Seth Hatfield, 1977 ~ 2013
Aug 08, 2013 | 2668 views | 0 0 comments | 115 115 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Seth Paul Hatfield was born June 8, 1977, in Monticello, Utah, to Paul Hatfield and Beverly Retherford. His new journey with God started on June 25, 2013, in Moab, Utah.

Left to mourn and carry on his legacy are his father, Paul, and wife, Rhonda, of Cortez; mother, Bev, and friend, Jerry, of Moab; his grandfather, Charles, of Dove Creek; and grandmother, Helen Ayers, of Cedar Edge; his brother and best friend, Jonce, and wife, Jennifer, of Dove Creek; his four nieces, Marissa, Grace, Hadley, and Emma Hatfield, all who were very special to him. Many uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends will miss him dearly. His two friends, Nugget Shupe and Ben Wilson, were like brothers to him.

Seth was his own man. He was not defined by the world or its demands. He walked his own path and treasured the simple moments. His passion in life started at the age of 4 when he tore down his first carburetor. He never stopped. He loved cars, especially old cars, muscle cars, and drift busting 4x4s. His knowledge of automotive engineering and meticulous attention to detail was unmatched. If you asked him a question about a car, pickup, or specific motor, he would know how many were made, what year it was, the horsepower, and would have a hundred ideas how to make it go faster.

He would share his passion with anyone and help them make it happen. He changed a whole generation of kids around Dove Creek. When they were looking for a direction, something to do, he gave it to them. Overhauling an engine, tearing down a carburetor, getting an old clunker to run, building up a pickup to bust snowdrifts, stuck in a mud hole, mud rooster tails, he was at the front. Mud, snow, gas, oil, grease all over him and grinning the whole time. If he was under a hood – whether his car or your car – it would be fixed and there would be five more horsepower on the ground. He loved the 50s and 60s generations, whether the cars, the movies, or an Andy Griffith show. He was born too late; he was an “old soul.”

He loved his mountains. If you mentioned Fish Creek, you would get an immediate grin. He loved the serenity, the simplicity; he loved being close to God.

He knew he was not of this world. He chose his journey; he took the road less traveled, and those of us who knew his heart were blessed to call him son, brother, uncle, friend – or just “pard.”

The road he chose took him to his Savior and because of that choice, his destiny is secure. He is with his King, living in eternity, looking out over the mountains of heaven, and probably asking Jesus if he could build a drag strip.

We will mourn, we will miss him, but we who believe in Jesus expectantly wait for the day we will see him again. His legacy will live on in all of us, and when we see or hear a hot car, or a jacked-up pickup, we will think of him with that sly grin, a twinkle in his eye and a “wow, pard, listen to that.”

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