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Ricky and family enjoying old home week, Craven style If you didn't know him - or weren't looking for him - you would have missed Ricky Craven on Saturday, as he milled around in the Greenville High School cafeteria.There was no entourage for Maine's only NASCAR Winston Cup driver. There was no mad rush of fans to greet him. This was old home week, Craven style. Over in the corner, Craven's daughter, Riley, sold raffle tickets. Nearby, his wife chatted with passers-by. At the credential table, his mom, Nancy, kept track of the comings and goings of 600 fans, sponsors and friends. Especially friends. Craven appreciates the fact that his annual charity snowmobile ride - the attraction on Saturday - has become so popular. But even more gratifying is the fact that it's remained popular with the people who have been coming every year since it originated in 1998. "It's an event that has gotten a life of its own. It's almost perpetual," Craven said. "You see, annually, the growth, as a result of the same people coming back but bringing more enthusiasm." Yes, the enthusiasm is there. But it's not the kind of enthusiasm you might think. This gathering isn't about rubbing elbows with a famous race car driver. Not any more. In fact, it was hard to find an autograph-seeker on Saturday. Instead, the charity ride - which, for the record, raised a record $185,142 this year - is a chance for Craven to get back to Maine and spend time with people he has known for years ... and meet others he'll know for years to come. And make no mistake about it: This ride is a priority for him. Daytona looms. He tested in Las Vegas on Friday. But don't make the mistake of referring to the charity ride as "inconvenient." "The misconception is that the Daytona 500 is the beginning of the season," Craven said. "For me, the charity snowmobile ride is the beginning of the season. It's when we turn the page." Craven spends most of his time in North Carolina these days. His years toiling at Maine's small ovals are in the past. But he says he savors the time he spends in Maine a lot more now. Even during the winter, when the mercury dips below zero. "There are so many forms of entertainment in Maine, but you've got to be a little creative and a little open-minded," he said. "It could be climbing to the top of the highest hill you can find and sliding down on an inner tube. "Or it could be building a fire on the ice - which makes no sense to the natives of North Carolina - and whittling two 3- or 4-foot-long sticks for my kids to slide hot dogs on, and spending the whole day there, trying to pull some type of fish from this 12-inch diameter hole we created early in the morning." Recently, Craven had the chance to do just that. Craven ice fished a bit as a child. Not much, but a bit. But since he owns a log cabin on Moosehead Lake, getting back into the ice-fishing game was a natural. So he bought all the gear, got the kids bundled up, and went fishing. At first, things were slow, Craven said. Riley and Everett didn't care much for the drilling, nor the baiting. They did enjoy sliding on the ice and throwing sticks for the family dog to fetch. Then, everything changed. "When the flag went up, it was like 9,000 RPM. A qualifying lap," Craven said, drawing a comparison to his racing career. "It only lasts 30 seconds, but it is the most unbelievable lap of the day." Craven said it didn't take Riley and Everett long to forget about the sliding ... and the dog. "There was a dash from all directions to that flag," he said. "The kids were pulling the line in so quick there had to be smoke coming off the fish." Craven knows how fish stories work. And he already knows how fishing works. "For me, it's not about fishing. It's not about the trophy fish, because regardless of how big [it was], it will have grown by the time I get back to North Carolina. It's just about spending the whole day, uninterrupted, with Riley and Everett." I know you're wondering, so I'll tell you the rest of the story here. Craven and company landed a Moosehead Lake togue that he said measured about 18 or 19 inches long. No trophy ... but memorable. The reaction of Riley and Everett, he said, made sure of that. "You would have thought it was Moby Dick," Craven said with a laugh.
Appeared in Bangor Daily News January 28, 2003
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