‘Really sorry to see him leave us’ – Bobby Rahal tearfully bids farewell to Honda Racing legend Robert Clarke

In the high-stakes world of American open-wheel racing, where engines roar and rivalries burn as fiercely as the California sun, few figures have left an indelible mark quite like Robert Clarke. The architect behind Honda Performance Development (HPD), now evolved into Honda Racing Corporation USA, passed away on September 20, 2025, at the age of 75, succumbing to heart failure after a lifetime of pushing the boundaries of innovation and excellence in motorsport. News of his death rippled through the paddock like a sudden red flag, prompting an outpouring of tributes from drivers, team owners, and executives who credited Clarke with reshaping the competitive landscape of IndyCar and endurance racing.

Born in 1949 in California, Clarke’s journey into the adrenaline-fueled realm of racing was anything but conventional. After studying architecture at Texas Tech University and earning a degree in art and industrial design from the University of Notre Dame, he spent five years as a professor at the same institution, imparting lessons on creativity and structure. But Clarke’s true passion lay in the sleek lines of motorcycles and race cars. In the late 1970s, he dabbled in aftermarket motorcycle design at Vetter Corporation before landing at American Honda Motor Corporation in 1981. Starting in the motorcycle accessory and product planning departments, his keen eye for detail and unyielding drive for perfection soon propelled him toward the company’s nascent racing ambitions.

By 1993, Clarke had become the founding general manager of HPD, a modest engine rebuild shop in Santa Clarita, California, that would balloon into a 123,000-square-foot powerhouse employing over 125 associates. Under his stewardship as president from 2005 to 2008, HPD transformed Honda’s U.S. racing footprint. The numbers tell a story of dominance: 298 IndyCar victories from 544 starts, 16 Indianapolis 500 triumphs, 15 drivers’ championships, and 11 manufacturers’ titles. In sports car racing, through the Acura brand, Clarke’s vision yielded 123 wins, six manufacturers’ championships—including two American Le Mans Series crowns with Highcroft Racing—and eight drivers’ titles. His programs conquered IMSA’s marquee endurance events, from the Rolex 24 at Daytona to the 12 Hours of Sebring, proving that Japanese engineering could thrive on American soil.

Yet, Clarke’s legacy is woven as much from triumphs as from trials. When Honda dipped its toes into CART in 1994, partnering with Rahal-Hogan Racing, the debut was a baptism by fire. The overweight, underpowered HRX engines in Lola chassis failed spectacularly to qualify for the Indianapolis 500, an embarrassment that strained relationships and nearly derailed the program. Bobby Rahal, the three-time CART champion and team co-owner, fired off a terse fax in August of that year, announcing his split from Honda at season’s end. It was a low point that could have sunk the fledgling effort, but Clarke, ever the resilient visionary, refused to yield. He pivoted swiftly, allying with Tasman Motorsports and driver Andre Ribeiro to keep Honda’s engines humming in the series. That gamble paid off handsomely; by 1996, Honda had secured its first IndyCar win, and the rest, as they say, is history etched in checkered flags.

Rahal, now 72 and co-owner of Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing, reflected on that turbulent era with a mix of regret and profound respect during a tearful interview at the team’s Indianapolis headquarters on September 23. “Really sorry to see him leave us,” Rahal said, his voice cracking as he paused to compose himself, eyes glistening under the fluorescent lights of the garage. “Bob was more than a partner or a competitor—he was the guy who believed when no one else did. That first year with HPD, it was rough. We butted heads, sure, but he took our frustrations and turned them into fuel. Without his grit, Honda might never have become the force it is today. He was a gentleman racer at heart, always sketching ideas on napkins, dreaming bigger. Godspeed, Bob. The Brickyard won’t sound the same without you in the stands.”

Rahal’s words echoed sentiments across the motorsport community. Chip Ganassi, whose team delivered Honda’s inaugural IndyCar win in 1996, called Clarke “the shoulder on which a lot of our success rests.” HRC US President David Salters, in a poignant statement released on X (formerly Twitter), described Clarke as “badge #1 at HPD” and a mentor whose guidance was invaluable. “He coached me over lunches at a local spot, freely giving time and wisdom,” Salters wrote. “Thank you, Robert. You were an inspiration and a brilliant mentor. We will miss you dearly.” Even in his post-HPD years, Clarke’s influence endured. After retiring from HPD in 2008—handing the reins to Erik Berkman—he served as CEO of De Ferran Motorsports, guiding the team to second place in the 2009 American Le Mans Series. In 2014, he took the helm as president of SCCA Pro Racing, infusing the organization with fresh energy drawn from his roots as an amateur SCCA racer since 1959. Though he stepped down in 2016 to pursue personal projects, Clarke remained a fixture at vintage events, piloting his cherished Chevron Formula Atlantic.

Beyond the boardrooms and blueprints, Clarke was a man of quiet intensity, an amateur racer who competed in karts, motorcycles, Formula Vee, and beyond. Colleagues recall his infectious enthusiasm for the sport’s grassroots soul, often sharing stories of his first race with his father or late-night strategy sessions fueled by black coffee. “Creation was at the core of Bob’s life,” said one longtime HPD engineer, speaking anonymously. “Excellence was the byproduct.” His death, announced just days ago, leaves a void felt from the hills of Santa Clarita to the ovals of Indy. As the 2025 IndyCar season winds down, teams draped their cars in black armbands during practice at Laguna Seca, a silent salute to the man who engineered so many of their crowning moments.

In an era when corporate racing can feel sterile and calculated, Robert Clarke embodied the raw, challenging spirit of Honda—innovative, relentless, human. His farewell isn’t just the end of an era; it’s a reminder of the dreamers who steer the wheel when the track gets slick. As Rahal wiped away a tear, he added softly, “He made us all better. That’s the real win.” For a legend like Clarke, the checkered flag waves eternal.