Paul Vaillant Fox

Paul V. Fox lived a long, noisy, and often funny life that started on August 19, 1947. He took his final lap around the track on October 4, 2025. Born in South Carolina. Raised around the world. Eventually rooted in Colorado. He packed enough stories, opinions, and punchlines into seventy-eight years to keep any room entertained or exhausted.

He was the son of Morris and Claire Fox. The Air Force sent them everywhere: Japan, Germany. across the US, and finally landing in Mesa, Arizona. Germany was his favorite chapter. Teen freedom.

Fast trains. Faster cars. "If you could reach the bar with your money, you could buy a beer," he said.

Paul found his home in the car business. It suited him. He could talk to anyone and find comedy in the chaos of dealership life. He worked his way from service writer to general manager. He was both charming and occasionally grumpy, often in the same sentence. He loved to talk about horsepower. milage, and warranties with equal enthusiasm.

Cars were never just work for him. Racing was a lifelong obsession. Formula One. Indy. NASCAR Drag. Stock cars. Anything that made noise, had four wheels, and burned gasoline. If racing was on TV, he was watching. If he could get to the race, he was going. That passion started early. He was twelve years old when he camped in the German mud with a couple of school friends for the Grosser Preis von Deutschland. No parents. No plan. Just three days of rain, roaring engines, and freedom. He carried that memory for the rest of his life.

When the track was quiet, you'd find him with a shotgun or a golf club. He was an accomplished skeet shooter and a Lifetime Member of the National Skeet Shooting Association. He competed regionally and often did well. However, if there'd been money in the sport, he wouldn't have won any. But he loved the game. The people. The smell of gunpowder on a Saturday morning.

Golf came next. If there wasn't a race on TV, there was golf. Either on the course or humming quietly from the living room while he napped in his chair. When he was golfing, it was more about the company than the score. A place to swap stories. To talk business. To laugh. And sometimes to curse at a little white ball.

As the years rolled on, his engines quieted, but his appetite didn't. Food became his indulgence. He could tell you the best dish in any restaurant within fifty miles. His reviews were animated and opinionated. He had a way of pursing his lips and changing his voice when telling you how good it was. As if remembering something sacred. New Mexico green chiles were his secret ingredient for happiness. Dessert was a team sport. He'd finish yours if you hesitated too long.

He also loved watching cooking competition shows. He and Barbara would sit together critiquing dishes like seasoned judges, with Barb occasionally trying something from the show to surprise him. He even arranged a special trip so they could be in the studio audience of The Chew in New York, on the return leg of a trip to Europe. The show was one highlight of that trip.

Somewhere in there, Barbara showed up in his life. Everything after that was just we.' She became his favorite passenger. They built a life together starting in Albuquerque and through Atlanta, Austin,and Las Vegas. Going from dealership to dealership together. In 2000, they ultimately settled down in Grand Junction, Colorado. Las Vegas was the fun stop. Enjoyable shows, food, and an occasional win in the casinos. The best part was family and friends always "happening to be in town" to visit Vegas. Grand Junction ultimately was home. Family is nearby. Familiar faces. Peace.

Paul was charming to strangers. Occasionally grumpy to family, or when he wasn't getting his way. But he was always himself. I think he wanted people to laugh and feel at ease. Was he perfect? Not close. Authentic? Absolutely.

He is survived by his brother, Jack (John) Fox; his children, Matt (Paul) Fox and his three children, and Leslie (Fox) Boyce and her three children; stepson, Mark Cherkitz and his five children and seven grandchildren; and stepdaughter, Christy (Cherkitz) Ahrens and her two children. He now joins his wife, Barbara, who passed earlier this year, surely reminding her she was still right about most

things.

A Mass will be held on November 15, 2025 at Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Grand Junction, CO, followed by inurnment at the church columbarium.

He carried a small card in his pocket in his final weeks with The Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi. I include it here:

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled, as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved, as to love;

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

We hope his prayers for peace are answered.