Back in the late '70s early '80s my mom was busy volunteering as a registrar at a number of events at Mid-America Raceway while my dad was on the track. At one particular event, Paul Newman and his crew showed up late at the track on Saturday and they missed qualifying. My mom, being the detail-oriented woman she is, begins the process of having everyone in his group sign the necessary releases so that she can give them the pit passes to enter the track. Paul begins to cuss my mom out up one side and down the other saying they don't have time for this. Another registrar steps in to double the efforts and they got Paul and his crew on their way quickly.
In the end, he started at the back of the pack in his Canon AE-1 Datsun and ended up finishing first overall. My mom still adores the man to this day and blames his outburst on any number of things from jet lag to a bad breakfast, or a fight with Joanne.
I met him on a number of occasions when he was in St. Louis to race and he was one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet. A class act both on and off the track.