A lifetime walking among tribes without ever leaving home
Photos by Jamie Plain
Announcer. Veteran. Artist. Mentor. Hall of Famer. Author. All of them can describe Army Armstrong. Yet none of them, on their own, really explain who he is or how he has lived. That’s just fine by him, because he’s never believed much in titles anyway.
“I’m just a guy from Owensboro,” he said. “What you see is what you get.”
That may be true in the simplest sense, but Armstrong’s life tells a more layered story, one built on community, faith, service, and a rare ability to move easily between worlds that rarely overlap. Motorsports. Business. Art. Youth mentorship. War. Fatherhood. Fame. Obscurity. All of them, in one way or another, trace back to the same place.
Owensboro.
Armstrong was born and raised in western Kentucky, growing up between Owensboro, Central City, and the surrounding communities. He lost his father, a pilot, in a plane crash when he was 8 years old and was raised by his mother alongside one sister. He has lived in the same house for decades, built a life rooted in the city, and never seriously considered leaving, even as his career carried him across the country and into rooms few Owensboro natives ever enter.
“When you travel a lot, you learn how important a small nucleus of your life really is,” Armstrong said. “Your buddies. Sitting around. Going to the Dairy Freeze. Driving around. Those things matter.”
That sense of place would shape everything that followed.
THE VOICE OF A GROWING INDUSTRY
Armstrong’s deep connection to motorsports began early. As a teenager, he worked around racetracks, learning the business from the ground up. By the time he was in high school, he was already immersed in the culture, working events on weekends in Hardinsburg, Owensboro, and Bowling Green.
What he stepped into was not just a sport, but a movement that would eventually grow into a billion-dollar industry.
The roots of indoor motorsports, Armstrong said, trace back to a group of Owensboro-area farmers known as the Owensboro Boys. In the winter months, when fields were idle, they looked for something new. One conversation led to another, and soon tractor pulls moved indoors, into arenas that had sat empty for much of the year.
“That world didn’t exist before that,” Armstrong said. “Those buildings were empty except for a circus or a mobile home show. Then all of a sudden, they’re booked full.”
The innovation did not stop at spectacle. Practical problems had to be solved, including ventilation, safety, and measurement. Farmers-turned-problem-solvers applied their everyday knowledge to new environments, developing systems that are still used in major facilities today.
“People are sitting in these massive arenas now, not realizing the guy who helped design that lives right down the road from them,” Armstrong said.
Armstrong was there as the industry grew, and he grew with it.
EXPLAINING, NOT EXAGGERATING
Over time, his voice became as recognizable as the machines themselves. He developed a style that was less about hype and more about storytelling, explaining what people were seeing and why it mattered.
“I never felt the need to scream,” he said. “Just tell people what they’re looking at. Explain it.”
That approach resonated.
Armstrong went on to announce nearly every form of motorsport imaginable, from tractor pulls and monster trucks to sprint cars, drag racing, and motorcycle events. He worked live public address systems and then recorded voiceovers for television broadcasts, becoming a familiar presence in living rooms across the country.
For years, families structured their weekends around his broadcasts.
“I’ve had people tell me they wouldn’t eat supper until I finished calling the race,” Armstrong said. “That’s humbling.”
His work eventually extended beyond motorsports. Armstrong provided voiceover work for Microsoft’s gaming division, contributing to motorsports titles and other projects. While under contract, he traveled regularly to Redmond, Washington, where he met and worked alongside some of the most influential people in the technology world, including Microsoft founder Bill Gates.
Despite the stature of those rooms, Armstrong said what struck him most was how ordinary those moments felt.
“Everybody’s just a person,” he said. “Power doesn’t change that. Diapers don’t care who you are.”
That philosophy has guided him throughout his life.
WAR, FAITH, AND PERSPECTIVE
Armstrong served in Vietnam, returning home on Christmas Eve in 1971. Like many veterans of that era, he came back to a country that did not yet know how to receive him. He said it took decades before the weight of that experience fully surfaced.
“For a long time, I was just mad,” he said. “I didn’t even realize why.”
His faith, which he has never hidden but never forced on others, played a central role in his ability to process that chapter of his life. Baptized at 8 and again decades later, Armstrong said faith has always been personal, grounding, and deeply tied to service rather than performance.
“I was never alone,” he said. “That’s what I always realized.”
NOTICING PEOPLE
After returning from Vietnam, Armstrong launched a screen-printing and T-shirt business that quickly expanded beyond anything he expected. Leveraging his motorsports connections, he supplied merchandise for major events and venues, shipping truckloads of product across the country.
From there, he shifted again, dedicating years to Junior Achievement. Under his leadership, the Owensboro program became one of the strongest in the nation. He worked with young people who reminded him of himself, kids who needed someone to notice them, challenge them, and believe in them.
“Sometimes all it takes is a pat on the shoulder,” Armstrong said. “That sticks with people.”
It is a theme that runs through his life and now through his book.
WALKING AMONG TRIBES
Armstrong released his memoir, Walking Amongst the Tribes, in November. The book was ghostwritten by local author Danny May, who said Armstrong’s openness and authenticity made the project unlike any other.
“He had a story to tell,” May said. “And he was willing to open up about parts of his life he hadn’t really shared publicly before, including Vietnam.”
Rather than following a strict chronological structure, the book is organized as a series of interconnected stories. Each chapter weaves together moments from different stages of Armstrong’s life, reflecting the way he has moved between communities, careers, and identities.
“It’s like putting together a quilt,” May said. “Each piece connects to the next.”
The “tribes” Armstrong refers to are not just motorsports categories, but people. Racers. Veterans. Artists. Kids. Families. Believers. Communities. All of them intersect in his story, and all of them lead back to Owensboro.
Recently, Armstrong was recognized again during a Racer’s Reunion Breakfast, where racers and fans gathered to reconnect and share stories. He signed books, told stories, and did what he has always done best: listened.
At 78, Armstrong is still creating. He paints. He designs. He builds model cars. He restores bicycles and dollhouses to give away to children. He continues to mentor, encourage, and notice people.
He is also managing Parkinson’s disease and other health challenges, which he speaks about candidly, not for sympathy, but perspective.
“We’re all just trying to work through this thing called life,” he said.
For Armstrong, the measure of a life well-lived is not found in titles or accolades, though he has plenty of both. He is a member of multiple halls of fame, including international recognition in monster truck and drag racing circles. Still, he speaks of those honors matter-of-factly, almost as an afterthought.
“If I have to tell you how great I am, then it probably doesn’t matter,” he said.
What does matter, to him, is helping the next person along the way.
“There’s some kid out there right now who just needs somebody to notice them,” Armstrong said. “That’s it. That’s how things change.”
In a life that has touched millions through a microphone and countless more one-on-one, Army Armstrong has never chased recognition. He has simply shown up, stayed rooted, and kept walking among tribes, carrying Owensboro with him wherever he went. OL
