One day I asked Tex how he came up with his iconic TV slogan, “that ain’t no bull.” His answer was more graphic and more physical than I could have imagined.
Tex told me he was filming a commercial at his Chandler ranch with cattle roaming in the background. He said that when his ranch hands had castrated those close-by steers, an abundance of skin was left hanging down, so it appeared that the animals still had testicles.
When one of the steers wandered close to the film crew, Tex spontaneously reassured them as to its lack of aggressiveness by pointing out, “That ain’t no bull.” Someone then suggested that he end the TV commercial with that line, and those four words subsequently became his television signature.
Even though Tex passed away in April of 2020, the auto dealership empire he founded (now superbly managed by his sons and grandkids) still occasionally finishes TV commercials with an old clip of Tex sitting on a bull (or perhaps a steer with a bit of extra skin), delivering those memorable words.
A Legacy Beyond Commercials
Tex passed away at the age of 89 during the height of the pandemic, which made it impossible to host the celebration of life he deserved. Every year around his birthday on December 9th I write about him in an effort to keep alive the memory of a man who showed me and many others how to live with kindness, generosity, and joy.
Tex’s success wasn’t just measured by the business empire he built; it was reflected in the lives he touched. He was more than a friend; he was the embodiment of what it means to live with a giving heart. In every moment I spent with Tex, he demonstrated that success in life isn’t defined just by what you achieve, but also by how deeply you care for those around you.
More Than Just Pancakes and Handshakes
Over our 20-plus years of friendship, our shared adventures were filled with his trademark gestures of kindness. Whenever we needed to refuel on our cross-country motorcycle rides, Tex transformed routine fill-up stops into a pit crew experience for me. He would make a point to pull up at the gas pump first, quickly get off his bike, and pump gas into mine so I wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of dismounting, setting the kickstand, and removing my helmet. On those rare occasions when I managed to beat Tex to the pump, he graciously accepted but I felt like I was robbing him of his greatest joy—giving.
Tex also frequently insisted on checking the air in my tires, which is extra important when you are motorcycling. He would drop down to his knees on the dirty concrete saying, “Greg, riding with low tires is how you end up on the ground.”
Tex’s larger-than-life generosity wasn’t confined to our road trips; it extended to every breakfast table and restaurant we visited. He’d playfully swipe pancakes from your plate only to later insist on picking up the tab. He would often walk around, introducing himself to patrons, instantly turning strangers into friends with his magnetic charm.
Unconventional Yet Unforgettable
Tex had a way of taking life’s little interactions and transforming them into unforgettable moments. Once, I asked him to write a recommendation for my application to join the Arizona Bar. In typical Tex fashion, he wrote one bold statement over the many pages of questions: “I’d trust Greg with my wallet and my wife.” The bar staff later told me it was the “most memorable recommendation” they’d ever received.
In my view, Tex’s greatest achievement wasn’t in his material possessions or his astounding business accomplishments, but rather the countless devoted friendships he forged. He once shared with me his simple yet profound philosophy: “How much can I do for how many?” That phrase was more than a saying; it was his way of life.
A Lasting Impression
As Helen Keller once said, “Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.” I can attest that riding through life’s twists and turns with Tex was like being blessed with the friendly warmth of the most glorious light.
Tex Earnhardt was more than a man of wealth; he was a man of profound worth. His life was a masterclass in kindness, generosity, and authenticity—qualities that continue to inspire all who knew him.
Tex, in celebrating your legacy this month of your birthday, I am reminded again of what I learned in those precious moments I was honored to spend time with you. You were the best-hearted, most genuine person I’ve ever known—the man I aspire to be. Truly, “that ain’t no bull.”
