Dillon Holt runs his finger along the hood of the red, white, and blue 1977 Corvette parked on the Seymour Johnson Air Force Base flight line.
He looks back at his stepfather, Andrew, and smiles.
“I want to drive,” the 6-year-old says. “Vroom. Vroom. Vrooooooom.”
Andrew laughs.
“It’s gonna be a while, buddy. A long while,” he says. “Not a bad dream car, though.”
The two have no idea that the man sitting in a lawn chair a few feet away would give anything for a similar exchange — that the car they have been admiring for nearly five minutes is the last place Gary Artis saw his father, William, alive.
They have no way of knowing that this particular Corvette is a tribute to a United States airman who died in 1986 — that his son uses it to keep the memory of “the greatest man I ever knew” alive.
“He rode in this car just before he died,” Gary says. “It reminds me of him. Takes me back 25, 30 years, at least, every time I get in it.”
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The idea to create a “Thunderbirds” Corvette came to Gary nearly eight years ago at an air show much like Wings Over Wayne.
“I had taken my son to a show and it just stuck in my mind that we loved watching the Thunderbirds,” Gary said. “And I love Corvettes. So this is a way I could kill two birds — you know, commemorate my dad with something I want to drive every single day.”
And while he now owns some thirty cars, this particular ride is still the one he covets.
“When I’m driving, I can look over and see him, so it’s sentimental,” Gary says. “He made me the man I am today.”
In life — and death — William inspired his son to dream. And if those dreams centered around collecting muscle cars, that was just fine.
“He knew I was pursuing my dream, so he loved it,” Gary says. “He taught me how to dream. He taught me that if you love something, you go after it. Don’t just sit back. And let me tell ya, I’m living way beyond any dreams I ever had.”
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Jennifer Peterson bends her neck to get a better look at what’s inside.
There is Thunderbird memorabilia — including a Ken and Barbie set still in the box — but a framed letter from former President Ronald Reagan catches her eye.
“That’s a letter commending him for his service,” she says to her boyfriend, Dwayne. “It’s got Reagan’s signature on it.”
Dwayne puts his arm around Jennifer and removes his sunglasses.
“That’s somethin’,” he says. “Wonder who he was.”
Gary could have told them.
His name was William Artis.
And his son would tell you he’s at Wings Over Wayne right now — sitting in the passenger seat of his son’s “dream,” urging the 58-year-old to live life to the fullest.
“It means a lot when people see the name and ask me about him,” he says. “It’s absolutely breathtaking. … He’s here. Yeah. He’s here all right.”
