Three weeks ago, one of my best friends passed away suddenly. Robert “Bobby” Stuhr was one of those special individuals that enter your life, bore themselves deep into your soul, and your life becomes a memorable ride.
I had met Bobby in Las Vegas at a Pantera club convention many years ago. We both owned one of these semi-exotic sports cars (Italian made with a big American V8 powering it). I was shooting the event for the club and leading some of the driving excursions. Bobby was there having the time of his life – seeing a few hundred Panteras instead of the couple that were on Maui at the time; getting rides on the race track from fellow owners; and drooling over the myriad of parts the vendors had brought to tempt pocket books.
Fast forward to 2001: My wife and I started contemplating moving to Maui, but my car was an integral part of my life. Was I on my own to fix things, or was there someone on island who could work on the more complex parts of the car? Would the car rust out in a matter of years, and God forbid the car need body work, was there a body shop that could be trusted to repair the delicate bodywork without smearing 200 lbs. of Bondo on the car?
I pulled the club’s membership directory from the bookshelf, grabbed the phone and dialed Bobby’s work phone.
“Detective Stuhr,” said the authoritative voice on the other line.
“Uhhh… Hi Robert. Scott Mead from the Pantera Club calling. Gotta minute to talk?” I asked.
The minute was more like an hour. Yes, there’s a guy on island that not only works on his and others’ cars, but he’s restored two Panteras. Someone else had a body shop, and he had previously worked for the largest Pantera dealer in the U.S. No worries – he had painted hundreds of cars. And rust? Well, everything rusts in Hawaii, but if you live away from the ocean (especially Upcountry), keep the car covered in a garage, it’s no worse than most of the rest of the Country.
A few years later, I’m pulling two boxes off the ATA Airlines baggage conveyor at Kahului Airport. My first of many trips I would make, flying back and forth bringing “essentials” to Maui. I climb into the SUV we had sent over and head to the house we had rented the week before. In the empty living room, I open a beach chair, sit down and dial Bobby’s cell number.
“Hey Robert, its Scott. Guess where I am?”
His reply was short and succinct: “You’re coming over for dinner tonight. Here’s how to get here…”
Half an hour later, I’m hopelessly lost in the dark depths of Haiku. I call him and he guides me to his home, where I meet his (then) girlfriend (now wife) and kids and we talked story while sipping beer and he charred a few massive steaks on the barbecue. As the night grew long and we talked about the cars we loved, the inevitable bond and friendship began.
Over the years, we worked on and polished each other’s cars, went on car runs, showed our cars at every opportunity and even formed a Hawaii chapter of the Pantera Owner’s Club of America. Bobby had T-shirts made and we wore them proudly. Everywhere we went, I had my “monster” DSLR camera, while Bobby had his point-and-shoot, each of us capturing the day. A few times, we got the cars together as a group and I’d fill up memory cards, printing a few and threatening to take pictures with us in them.
Up until November eighth, we’d get together whenever we could, though never often enough. Bobby was an investigator for the Maui Police Department, and was on-call 24- hours a day. My photography business had also turned into a seven-day proposition with few weekends off. When our calendars aligned, big horsepower V8s would be fired up and we’d burn copious quantities of high-test fuel with my camera riding shot gun.
One of our favorite runs was a trip up Haleakala Crater. My car was in the body shop for its bare-metal restoration and I was Bobby’s copilot. He carving corners and me hanging the camera out the window getting shots of the other Panteras in front of us.
Last Sunday, we made the same trip up the volcano, but this time, Bobby’s ashes were in the passenger seat of his car. One last run to the crater, gracefully nailing the apexes of the corners, enjoying the clear weather and the sound of the exhaust echoing off the volcano walls.
Back home, I pulled into the garage and let the Pantera idle for a couple of minutes, feeling the “blap-a-doo, blap-a-doo” of the big-cam exhaust reverberate through my body before shutting down the engine. Above, somewhere in the universe, I knew Bobby was looking down with a huge grin on his face, and I could almost hear his voice say, “When do you want to do that again?”
Next weekend is free, and the camera is already in the car. I think Bobby will be there too. He could never pass up a ride to the volcano or shoot some cool cars.
Aloha o’e, my friend.
What an amazing tribute. My guess is that he would reguard you the same, a great friend! I cannot imagine what you must feel with the loss of such a wonderful friend. My prayers are with you and his family! Your friend, Steph
This news is a shock to me. I just did a google search to try and find more information about Bobby after a mutual friend called and left me the news of his death. Bobby ( I use to call him “Spock”) was my roomate and training partner when he and I were both students at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. I will always remember him as a great friend and an extremely strong individual. I wouldn’t be surprised if his total and individual lifts in the 198lb. class were still state records. We spent a lot of time together and I am very sorry for his passing.
Mike Curtin
mecurtin@alaska.edu
my prayers go out to his 2 children..and his sister & mother. God bless you all.
we had MANY fun times growing up in wailuku.
i’d like to share a few. hope you don’t mind that i do it here scott. mahalo.
i’ll never forget being invited to spend the day with bobbie…and his father. his father flew the plane that once sprayed all the sugar cane fields here on maui. (i’m sure there are many folks still around that remember that lil plane zippin’ around. under and very close to electrical & telephone wires…like a toy remote control plane that the children play w/today. mr. stuhr was an amazing pilot.) being the only girl..”tomboy”..on a street w/ 13 boys…i was shocked when bobbie asked if i’d like to join them. and…all the times there after. i saw parts of maui that i have never seen before or since. heaven.
and…the times during our (school) summer breaks..his parents & lil sister…along w/the schmidts…& their 2 children…dennis & monica…would go to germany. when bobbie and dennis got back…they’d speak only german. completely forgetting how to speak english.:-/ anddd…they’d wear these “funky”..black..leather shorts w/suspenders attached to them. that first week was back was hell for everyone. they were both useless when it came to football. playing in those silly looking shorts..on asphalt/in the middle of the road..always ended after just a few mins. w/one or both of them going home…cryin’ ’bout something. :-/ 🙂
also the day bobbie & i first met. i met dennis first. he was my very first “boyfriend”. on the day my family & i moved into our new home…i was helping my father un-load our car. from the cornner of my eye..i kept seeing “something” really shiney & white…(lol)…poppin’ up & then down..on the otherside of our stone wall. (i)having what is today called..a.d.h.d..i walked away just as my father let go of a box he was passing to me. as i walked away…i heard the box hit the ground..& thinking…oh..man..mom’s going to be soooo mad. but i had to see what that “shiney..white thing” was. i looked over our cement wall..& all i saw (for the very first time to boot)was the bluest eyes..& the whitest skin & hair..on a boy my age(5). i introduced myself..and asked him his name. he said…”my name is dennis. will you be my girlfriend?” i asked him if he could throw a football…he said he could…& i said..”sure…i’ll be your girlfriend.” and for the next 10 years he was. 🙂 it was that very day…after a good spanking..& putting my things away in my new bedroom..that my “new boyfriend” & i walked down the street (bobbie and his family lived at the bottom of the road..last hse. on the right. or 1st hse. on the left… right above the stop sign…if you’re coming from “beach road). to meet his “best buddy”…bobbie. because bobbie & i were both “bull-headed”…it was only after a handful of fist-fights…which i don’t think he’d mind “now” if i told y’all…he lost every one :-)…did we become friends.
i could go on forever. after 10 years of being attached at the hip (we all were…all 14 of us)…there are so many wonderful…happy memories i’ll never forget. though i’m sure..if there is anyone still living on that road today…that lived there when we “owned” the road (it was a “rule”…that no game/play would be stopped because of traffic. we’d complete the play…and then diredt the traffic the way we saw police officers do. :-))..wouldn’t remember those days as wonderful and/or happy..lol.
i will! and i’ll NEVER forget you bobbie.
r.i.p. my forever friend.
scott..hope your doing well. sorry for your loss. the pain isn’t as sharp…but that empty feeling just doesn’t go away! don’t forget to buckle-up. “click it or ticket” 😉