John Phillip Farrington

John Farrington left us on the Fourth of July, 2025 - fitting, really, for a man who lived with quiet strength, deep independence, and a steady respect for his country - with a particular fondness for Texas, naturally. He was 62.

Born in Little Rock, Arkansas, to Ann (Settle) Farrington and Phillip Henry Farrington, John spent his early years between Massachusetts and Arkansas before finding his true home in Texas. He was a man of strong convictions, razor-sharp focus, and unwavering loyalty - never one to follow the crowd, always one to follow his own compass.

John was a cabler by trade and a road warrior at heart. Before starting his own company in 1999, he worked jobs across the country with his tools in the back and a fishing rod always within reach - never passing up a chance to cast a line wherever the water called to him. Eventually, the pull of amateur motorcycle racing brought him back to DFW. He started later than most, sleeping in his truck at the track, stretching every dollar on tires and parts, and chasing speed on two wheels with sheer determination. It was the perfect outlet for his mix of technical precision, physical strength, and gritty, low-budget craftsmanship.

Motorcycles were more than a hobby to John - they were a way of life. Whether he was riding, racing, wrenching, or reading about them, two wheels were always close by. The obsession started early: as a kid in Massachusetts, he traded his best baseball cards for one ride on a neighbor's minibike. That ride sealed the deal.

In the 1990s, John raced in the CMRA and TMGPS circuits, chasing the podium with a fire he rarely spoke of - but those who knew him knew second place didn't sit well. When the racing slowed, he turned that same intensity toward restoring classic bikes - especially vintage Japanese and European models - with a level of care and precision that bordered between obsession and art.

What he cherished most, though, was the conversation: a good MotoGP debate, a shared road story, the thrill of tracking down a rare part, or just the satisfaction of swapping insights over a freshly tuned engine. Some of those conversations turned into friendships. But even when they didn't, talking motorcycles was its own kind of happiness.

Outside the garage, John had equal passion for fishing and preserving wild spaces. He planted Texas wildflowers, tended land and critters, and had a soft spot for crows - always grinning as he'd say, "I'm watching a murder in the front yard." He cared deeply about protecting native ecosystems and had strong opinions about invasive species.

He is survived by his wife, Denise Fagan; his father, Phillip Farrington; his sisters, Mary Farrington and Amy Farrington; Mary's husband, Kevin Woolley; and their sons, Phillip and David Woolley.

He was preceded in death by his mother, Ann, who passed along her love for animals and quiet natural places.

John lived simply and purposefully. He didn't need much - just the right tools (or ones he built himself), a good fishing spot, and some land to tend. He had a deep, unspoken respect for those who served - especially members of the military, law enforcement, and fire services - and quietly admired anyone who stepped up when others turned away.

John hated funerals. And dressing up. His version of "fancy" was a button-down shirt. To honor that spirit, a Celebration of Life will be held Friday, August 29, 2025, at 11:00 a.m. at Old Frankford Church, 17400 Muirfield Drive, Dallas, TX 75287. Come as you are - motorcycle tee, work boots, Sunday best - whatever reminds you of him.

The church and its prairie grounds are lovingly maintained by the Frankford Preservation Foundation - a mission John respected. In lieu of flowers or gifts, please consider a donation to the Foundation in his honor.

Directions note: GPS can be a little quirky. From the Dallas North Tollway and Frankford Road, head east on Frankford, then take the first right just past the Taco Bell onto Spyglass Dr. Go about 0.7 miles and turn right on Muirfield Dr.

In John's memory, take time to notice the wild things, respect the land and water - and let the creatures be.