For several years running, when I reached the “mixing bowl” in Northern Virginia on my way to a Washington Redskins game, it was time to make a phone call.

I would hit my speed dial and ring up my friend Warner Hessler in Newport News. Warner was not just a friend. He was a long-time colleague. He worked for the Newport News Daily Press, and he and I covered the Redskins together for 20 seasons. Then, Warner left the newspaper business and entered the world of car sales. To the surprise of no one who knew him, Warner was a terrific salesman. He always was a people-person first.

Warner died Wednesday after a brief battle with cancer. He was 66. Everyone who knew him has been sad ever since. Warner was a fine writer and a wonderful guy to know. He had a good sense of humor, never had a discouraging word about anything and loved what he was doing. He churned out incredible amounts of copy year-round, but when he was at training camp or a Super Bowl, it seemed as if he never stopped writing.

I missed him at training camp, at Redskin Park and in press boxes throughout the league. But I still got the benefit of Warner’s wisdom on those Sunday morning drives. I’d call him when I reached the “Mixing Bowl” for two reasons. First, since that was around 10 a.m., I figured it was late enough in the morning that I wouldn’t wake anyone. Second, the final 45 minutes to FedEx Field can be extremely tedious. With Warner on the other end of the phone, the time flew by.

Warner never lost his interest in the Redskins. He would quiz me on what was happening with the team, why, for instance, was Mark Brunell starting and Patrick Ramsey not playing. Then, I would quiz him on the automobile business. Warner sold Hondas, and he sold them like few others in the country. He believed in what he sold, and it was evident from talking to him.

Warner was a guy who appreciated everything you did for him. After one election, there were all these “Warner for Governor” signs (Mark Warner) in the median on the road to Redskin Park. So, I stopped and pulled one out of the ground and took the sign off sticks (I disposed of the sticks properly). I got to Redskin Park ahead of Warner, and I put the “Warner for Governor” sign on the back of his chair.

Warner loved it. For weeks, he kept saying, “Woodman, let me to this or that for you.“ I finally said, “Warner, you don’t need to do anything for me.“ And he said, “You put that ‘Warner for Governor’ sign on my chair.“ I think I said something like, “Warner, all I had to do was stop the car and pick up the sign.“ I think he might have paid for one of my sons’ college tuition if I had asked.

That’s just the kind of guy Warner was. We miss him already.