This column begins on the nights of November 25th and 26th, 2005, and 23 years ago. It starts, too, in Oklahoma City and Austin, Texas, and Chicago. It also ends on the night of November 25th, 2005, in Chicago. And maybe it doesn’t end at all.
At about 10:30 on the night of the 26th, chapter member and long-time BMW CCA national officer J.R. Schneider sent me an e-mail titled “Sad news.” In part, it said, “Please give me a call when you get this message…I need to…relate some news that would not be suited for email.” I was driving back to Oklahoma City from the Dallas area when J.R. sent the message, so I didn’t see it until the next afternoon. When I did, I called J.R. right away. He got straight to the point: Sunbelt Chapter President Austin Weismann had been involved in a one-car crash in a park in Chicago on the night of the 25th. At that time it wasn’t clear exactly when the crash had occurred or who, Austin or a friend, was driving the 540i but it was apparently some time before a police officer found the car and called for the ambulance. We learned later that Austin was the passenger and that the car had spun, backed into one tree, then slewed around into another one, hitting it on Austin’s side.
Austin was pronounced brain dead at the hospital. He was carrying an organ-donor card and as a result, his heart, kidneys, liver, pancreas, and corneas went to people who needed them, saving at least three lives.
I don’t remember exactly when I met Austin although it had to have been at a chapter event. The first memory that stands out was when he recognized me in the parking lot of the Keystone Resort at Oktoberfest 2002. I didn’t expect him to be there but as usual, Austin was doing the tech inspection for cars that were going to the driving events. A year later, he and I would team up for the TSD rally at O-fest 2003 in Austin, Texas. We’d never done a rally together—he’d never done one at all—yet we managed to place mid-pack in our class and even hit one of the check points exactly on time.
Not long after that, Austin headed off to the Orlando, Florida, area to go through BMW’s factory training program for service technicians. No surprise to those of us who knew him, he was exactly in his element there and excelled. His dream was to work on the BMW Formula 1 team.
Austin was usually quiet about his passion for BMWs but not always. I first saw the photo on page 1 in the Hoosier Chapter’s newsletter. They didn’t know who the crazy guy in face paint was at that year’s US Grand Prix, but the photo was too good not to print it, so they did. I’m really glad their editor was willing to send me a copy. And that Austin didn’t punch me out for putting it in the Sonnenflecke. I promised him I wouldn’t use it again but I have to break that promise: it captures the spirit of the man, even if it was a spirit not everyone saw. The quiet exterior hid a fire inside.
A couple years ago, several of us on the Board pressed Austin to become the chapter president. It was probably more than we should have asked of him but he was game. After a year, he wanted to move on but we convinced him to hang around for a while longer until we could put together a real election. Austin had to follow his dream, though, and earlier this year he moved to Chicago to work for Don Dethlefsen at “The Werk Shop.”
And that’s part of how he ended up in a wrecked 540i on a stormy Chicago night. On the Sunday after the wreck, J.R. called Mike Turek at Old Germany restaurant in Choctaw—a favorite of many BMW CCA members, Austin included—and in minutes they had a memorial gathering planned for Saturday, December 3rd.
Around 100 of Austin’s friends joined his mother Marsha, his father Ray, aunts Cindy Miller and Melanie Hughes, grandmother Ann Roe, cousin Andy Miller and his wife, and girlfriend JayDe Hayes, for an afternoon of memories. Don Dethlefsen came down from Chicago, too, and read an e-mail—a long, long e-mail—that Austin had sent to tell Don why he should hire him. In it, Austin’s passion for BMWs comes through laut und klar: “BMWs…just make me feel something…Factory training was like going to Oz.” His story of his first ride in an E30 M3 had the audience laughing, many recalling their own first ride. After Don had finished reading, Marsha said, “that was more than we heard in 23 years.” Yeah, that was Austin.
Don quoted David Massey, one of his techs: “Austin was infectious.” That was Austin, too.
Maybe the most telling story, though, was his dad’s. Ray was going to drive to Louisiana and had to take two-year-old Austin with him. How, he wondered, was he going to keep a two year old quiet and occupied on such a long drive? His decided to go to a hardware store and look for some inspiration. He found it in the form of a bolt, a couple of washers, and a couple of nuts. Problem solved. And when some of the pieces went missing before the return trip, there was nothing Ray could do but find replacements. At the age of two, Austin had found his calling.
At the end of the memorial, Marsha asked all of us to do just three things: “Be passionate about something in your life, wear your seatbelt [Austin did], and call your Mom.”
A few days later, the Sunbelt Chapter Board voted to make donations in Austin’s name to three charities that were special to him: the National Foundation for Transplants, the Red Andrews Dinner in Oklahoma City, and the Iron Gate Ministries in Tulsa.
Austin’s F1 dream never came true but his final request will. Some time next year, with the help of Austin’s many friends, including customer Everette Surratt, and his former employer, Jackie Cooper BMW, some of his ashes will be flown the Germany for a drive around the Nurburgring. That’s where they’ll stay, too, although we’re not sure exactly where just yet. Maybe at the apex of the Karussell or one of the other special corners. The rest of his ashes will be inurned in his family’s home town of Muskogee, Oklahoma.
If there is a Heaven, I have a feeling Austin’s been taken down to the garage, where the wrenches never slip, the parts bins are always full, and some very special Bimmers need a little TLC. And now they’ve got just the guy to provide it.
Gute Fahren, mein Freund. Auf Wiedersehen.