Dale Earnhardt’s final NASCAR victory wasn’t just a race but a demolition derby of genius. On October 15, 2000, at Talladega Superspeedway, “The Intimidator” started 18th with five laps left, his black No. 3 Chevrolet seemingly buried in a snarling pack. A clinic in controlled chaos followed a five-lap blitz that cemented his legacy as NASCAR’s ultimate restrictor-plate master.
The win, his record 10th at Talladega, was Earnhardt at his brutal best. He bullied, barged, and outsmarted 17 cars, turning desperation into destiny. For fans, it was euphoria. For rivals, it was a lesson in why crossing Earnhardt at plate tracks was a losing bet.
Dale Earnhardt’s Masterclass in Talladega Traffic
The 2000 Winston 500 was slipping away. A late pit stop left Earnhardt mired in 18th, his car battered and far from dominant. Restrictor plates kept the field tight, but Talladega’s asphalt demanded more than speed. It required a sixth sense for air currents, traffic gaps, and the fearlessness only Earnhardt possessed.
“It was wild,” Earnhardt admitted post-race, “I was very frustrated, but I was also very lucky.”
Dale Earnhardt comes from 18th to 1st with 4 laps to go in the 2000 Winston 500. It was his last ever Cup victory. pic.twitter.com/RsOrrlTza8
— Nascar Nation (@nascarnation__) March 18, 2025
Stuck in 19th after his botched stop, Kenny Wallace became an unwitting ally. “I looked up in the mirror, and that black No. 3 was behind me leaving pit road,” Wallace recalled.
“I keyed my radio and asked what happened to Earnhardt. They said he had a bad stop, too.’”
But Earnhardt wasn’t resigned to fate. He carved through the middle lane, forcing three-wide passes that left tire marks on doors and rivals shaking their heads.
Rich Bickle’s car bore a scar from Earnhardt’s right-front fender after a dive to the apron. Matt Kenseth’s Ford nearly kissed the grass as Earnhardt squeezed past. Even his son, Dale Earnhardt Jr., leading with 10 laps to go, froze when his father’s car surged into view.
“I didn’t want to put all my chips on Mike and having him win the race,” Junior admitted. “Dad would be really pissed.”
Earnhardt’s white gloves flashed in Wallace’s windshield with two laps left, demanding a shove. Wallace obliged, hurtling the No. 3 past Skinner’s fading Chevrolet.
“It’s really simple. He knew how to get to that front,” Wallace said.
Legacy of Loyalty and the Last Checkered Flag
The checkered flag sealed Earnhardt’s 76th win, a number frozen in time. Months later, his death at the 2001 Daytona 500 transformed this race from triumph to tragedy. For Wallace, the runner-up finish became a badge of honor.
“They [fans] said, ‘You pushed our man to the last win of his life,’” he said. “It’s almost like I became this hero because after that, everybody would say, ‘I love you, Kenny Wallace.’”
Earnhardt’s post-race celebration was pure authenticity. He mixed Wallace a cocktail, Absolut vodka and Five Alive, toasting loyalty over engine noise.
“If you do what Kenny Wallace did for me if you stay loyal, we can win this race,’” Wallace recalled, a lesson Earnhardt drilled into Dale Jr. and Michael Waltrip before the Daytona 500 on that tragic day.
For Junior, the race stung with regret. Leading late, he lifted to avoid challenging his father, plummeting to 14th.
“I should have pushed the s*** out of Mike, pulled out, and won. But I was so worried Daddy would think I self-destructed,” he said. “We had no idea it would be his last win. It’s like watching Michelangelo.”
Two decades later, the roar of his engine still echoes—a ghost in the Alabama asphalt, forever teaching NASCAR how to dance on the edge.