Bob Hebert
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August 14th, 2024
August, 2024
We are sad to share the recent loss of Art’s father, Bob Hebert. A great father, wonderful husband, extraordinary racer, and daring spirit, Bob lived life on the edge of adventure, always accelerating.
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I am heartbroken to report that my dad, Bob Hebert, passed away on August 14th. He died peacefully with his family at his side, just a few miles from Lime Rock Park, a place where he enjoyed many great weekends of racing, and the company of fabulous lifelong friends.
Dad was born in his parent’s house in the center of Monterey, Massachusetts June 1, 1935. He attended the one room schoolhouse there through the 9th grade. With a high school education, he took over the family construction business, Hebert Construction, and would go on to employ many local families building lakes, dams, roads, bridges, and more.
In 1958 he married Linda Rabiner of Pittsfield. A year later their daughter, Cindy, was born. I would come along two years after that. We grew up in a lovely home with two great parents who taught us what we needed to know, supported us always, and led by example. Today dad is survived by four grandchildren, Ryan, Matt, Gunnar, and Lindsey, along with daughter-in-law Heather, and Cindy’s partner Chris.
In the late 1960’s Dad became interested in road racing. I discovered this when a yellow Lotus 51 Formula Ford appeared in our home garage in February, 1968. How cool was that?! Dad promptly fired it up and took off right down the road! Oh yes, the roads were also covered with snow. That didn’t faze him a bit. That was just dad.
His natural driving talent was immediately apparent. SCCA sent him home early from racing school when he beat his instructors. He would later get picked up by Lotus Racing East, importers of Lotus racing and street cars, to be a factory Lotus Formula B team driver. That would take Dad from the one room schoolhouse in Monterey to Canada and South America where he would race in Bogota, Columbia, and Caracas, Venezuela, against some of the best drivers in the world.
Dad’s racing took a hiatus in the later 1970’s as he concentrated on the construction business and raising his family. Then, in the 1980’s, he called me while I was away at school to ask me if I had ever heard of something called “Vintage Racing.” I hadn’t. However, soon we learned what it was, and embraced it. It would be the next chapter for both of us.
Dad would team up with Brian Donovan to race the fastest E-Type Jaguars in the U.S. Together they would go on to win from Laguna Seca to Lime Rock to Daytona. Dad was also voted SVRA Driver of the Year. In addition, during this period he was also retained by a French racing team to race their Dodge Viper in the 24 Hours of Daytona. Brian Lister (Lister Jaguars and Lister Chevys) came to watch Dad race, and win, at Daytona in his ex-Briggs Cunningham Costin Lister. Brian said he had never seen such natural talent since Archie Scott Brown. In 2012 Dad was inducted into the Road Racing Driver’s Club.
Lucky for me, and thanks to Brian Donovan, Dad and I got to race the Jaguars together coast to coast. Mom was always with us. It was truly magical to get to do that with my dad and my mom. Our barn is still full of dad’s racing memorabilia, including many trophies, photos, banners, checkered flags, classic cars, and so many wonderful memories. He won over 100 races in his career. Today his grandchildren, Gunnar and Lindsey, carry on his racing tradition.
Speaking of memories, there are so many, many, great memories of dad. I will just share two briefly here.
The first was in the early 1970’s when a steam cleaner we were using at my grandfather’s house burst into flames. The flames instantly engulfed my stunned grandfather who was holding a full can of kerosene. Instantly, my dad ran into the flames, picked my grandfather up in the air and threw him into a snowbank extinguishing the flames. He saved his life before I could even move.
Another time, I was seven years old racing my dad down a mountain on skis. I crashed, breaking my leg halfway down the mountain. Ski Patrol was not the professional operation it is today, so my dad skied the rest of the way down the mountain carrying me in his arms. Two weeks later, he broke his leg jumping off a bulldozer. One of my favorite photos is of us posing together with our two broken legs. I was so proud! He would later cut his cast off with a saw when he felt it had been on long enough. He hung it in the basement. I thought that was just the coolest thing!
My dad was my hero.
– Art Hebert
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