Roger Mack VanFossan was my father’s name. He was my children’s grandfather. My friends and family knew how much he meant to me, I want my children to know also. “Mack” is what most people called him and that name described him very well. When I think of The name Mack, I think of a truck. Mack trucks label their trucks to be ” born ready for the toughest road conditions and long haul”. Quoted from their website. That was my dad.
He was born in the small town of Beaver , Ohio. My great grandmother and grandfather raised him. At the age of 13, he worked at the gas station in town. He washed car windshields and pumped gas. He grew older and raced cars with his buddies winning several trophies. I loved to hear those racing stories. Raven Rock and the old Atomic Speedway were his favorites. He loved rock n roll,as did most teens in the 50’s. Elvis, Chuck Berry,etc. Yes ,before segregation, kids, music knew no color. He loved gospel music. He said that ” Grandma Kate was going to make sure that he was saved…even if he was kicking and screaming the whole way to church.” He loved your grandmother, my mom. He had a car accident and his left arm was shattered. He said that he prayed to God that he could keep his arm. Luckily for dad, his friend Doc decided to scrape bone from his hip and rebuild the bone in his arm with it. To my knowledge , this had never been done before. Dad’s arm healed with only minimal limited range of motion. Dad then started driving truck for his uncle’s feed and grain company. He married and I came along.Mom craved watermelon in the middle of winter. He contacted truckers driving down south and was able to get her fresh watermelon from one of the drivers.He laughed when he said that HE had morning sickness when mom was pregnant with me. He had said,” Here I am driving an 18 wheeler with a 45 foot trailer, pulling off the side of the road with morning sickness.” Not the usual picture of a truck driver.When he had short hauls I could ride along. That is when I fell in love with the road. Dad continued to race for a little while.
Being in a small town with a family to feed, dad and mom moved up north to Columbus, Ohio, for work. He started at Suburban Motor Freight and joined the Teamsters local 413. He worked both driving truck and loading. Every year the teamsters had a picnic at the Columbus Zoo amusement park. There was always food and drink, we looked forward to it every year. Dad’s mom and sister (grandma Agnes and aunt Sue) moved to Columbus and always lived nearby. Dad said that there was talk of the company that he worked for was having financial trouble. The guys at work talked about it and voted to give up 20% of their pay to keep the company going. Well, the owner got sick and died. The owner’s wife decided to sell the company. Dad had lost his job.I know that a lot of people were upset with unions at the time, but the union gave him credit for all of the years in the trucking business, so when he started at Roadway he was able to keep all of his previous years at Suburban. Dad lived to go to the sprint car races. He would often say to his boss, “Well the Outlaws are going to be at Eldora next weekend, so I feel a cold coming on ;)”. That was the only time he would ever call in. He planned his vacations and sick days to travel to the racetracks. KC raceway was always close. My only regret is that he did not live long enough to see the Atomic Raceway resurrected.
Dad retired, with his pension, and was glad to spend time with his best friend Walter. They would go to the races together. I still believe that is what he lived for. I would see him in the winter but as soon as spring came, “it was racing time again.” He started to slow down and I tried to get him to go to the doctor. His stubbornness, which he gave to me, kept him from seeking medical attention. Since I was just as stubborn as him, I knew not to fight it. He finally went to the clinic after the last race of the season. I was relieved when he told me that he had a kidney infection. A couple of days later , I received a phone call from Dad at work. It was not like him to call me at work. He asked if the antibiotic that they gave him would cause him to ” pee blood”? I knew something was WRONG. He went willingly to the doctors and labs were drawn. I got another call at work , this time from my sister who told me that dad’s labs were bad. Being a nurse, I knew that he needed blood, and his levels were so low that I didn’t know how he was even able to talk. I left work and took him to the hospital.He had a tumor in his bladder and one on his lung.It was his second admission to the hospital that the doctors gave him the diagnosis of leukemia, chronic lymphocytic leukemia to be exact. This was two days before Thanksgiving. I had lost my job and in a way was thankful to spend time with him. I knew that he did not have long. We had the best Christmas ever. Even though we did not have money, it was nice to watch dad with his grandchildren and talk about racing. I thanked God for our time together. I talked to him about what he wanted at his funeral. As usual he smiled and jokingly said ,”It doesn’t matter, I will be dead.” Oh, his sense of humor. His only request: “I want a truck … With away on a long haul written on it because we will see each other again somewhere down the road.” He passed and I promised him … I hope he likes it. 🙂
