Bads Mr2 Crew
09-14-2006, 02:57 AM
I usually crew for two cars each weekend, but this time we only had one, so I had a bit of a reprieve. I could actually watch some racing whilst at the track.
So, intent on that, my dad and I decided to go down to the carousel and watch the Small Bore race on Monday, as they are always entertaining. We walked down the long dark road and sat at our usual spot, top left corner of the lower carousel grandstands. You can watch the cars appear down the chute, go through the twisty bits, and then go off into the distance up the hill.
A couple of laps into the race we noticed an SPU Mercedes trying an inside pass on a Baby Grand in 7. After the first tap, I thought for sure the Baby Grand was going off onto the grass. I mean, this was a tap from a Mercedes, but the little guy corrected and kept it on the track. Unfortunately, the Mercedes was occupying the space the Baby Grand needed, and there was another touch. This one was just enough to jolt the Mercedes a bit too far to the right and proceed off the track into the grass.
Now, I had seen this happen many, many times, cars coming at us at 7-8, but they always corrected, or just slid a bit and tap the tires, or, at worst, hit the tires and the embankment and come to a jarring stop. Not this time.
I was watching a movie. The Mercedes hit the tire wall at full speed (for that area) and it didn’t stop. It blasted into and over the tire embankment and through the beautiful brown fencing that surrounds the track.
On Sunday I remember seeing a Buick park in that area and set up their camp. They put up their tent, moved their car, and watched racing. By Monday, the car had moved a bit again, and the tent lay flat.
The Mercedes helped it move again, after it had cleared the lain down tent.
After brushing off the Buick, the Mercedes was aimed right at us. I mean, I could look the headlights straight in the eyes. And I did, as I watched it coming right at me. I kinda stood. I almost ran. But I kept thinking, it wont make it this far, it won’t hit us. I know my dad was to my right, but I couldn’t see him. My entire line of site was taken up by this car. I watched it in high-speed slow motion. It wont make it this far. It won’t hit us. I remember sort of crouching where I was, not yet ready to run. What if I ran and it didn’t hit, I'd look a fool. There was this pretty blonde to my left a bit.
Besides, it won’t make it this far, it won’t hit us.
And then it hit us.
Imagine sitting in a chair and someone comes up behind you and pulls the chair out from beneath you fast enough so that for a split second, you are sitting on air. That is what it felt like when it hit. So, if you can imagine the steepness of the grandstands, we were instantly about 2-3 feet in the air, not so gracefully. It wasn’t so bad… until we landed. Pesky gravity.
The left side, where we were sitting, or crouching, was pushed back about four feet back, off its foundation, the right side almost a foot. The grandstands actually cracked in half.
When I picked myself up, I saw dad, pretty much upside down, a couple rows below me. I guess he didn’t crouch.
We stood there for a second. It was kind of surreal. We started asking ourselves if we were all ok. And we all were, thankfully. Then the driver got out of his car and, luckily, he was fine, going so far as to try to wave off the ambulance.
But what to do next. You don’t just sit back down and continue watching racing after something like that, the driver, a knee on the fence, helmet by his feet, watching the race end.
Then, moments later, we were surrounded by orange shirts. They were everywhere, instantly. They immediately took charge and told us all to sit back down and get off the grandstands.
Some of use tried to do both.
Then they, and we, decided it was probably best to vacate our broken seats and get looked at. The orange shirts circulated the crowd checking for injuries. It was amazing how efficient it all went. The worst that I saw was my dad with a wee bit of blood on his elbow. Eyeing some of the tasteful rust spots decorating the grandstands, he opted for some antiseptic and a band-aid.
Soon after, we spotted some friends that had seen what had happened from other parts of the carousel heading towards us to check everyone’s well being. We were just a bit shaken and stirred.
Then I saw the red flags. The race had been stopped. One question answered.
The driver was ok, and we were ok. The grandstands, and the unlucky bicycle that had been resting up against the corner of the grandstands, were not. But thanks to the EV crews and corner workers, the situation was under control and all was being taken care of.
I went around back, underneath, to get my water bottle and found the hat my dad had been knocked out of. We hitched a ride with some friends back to our paddocks.
I have been going to Summit Point for 29 years now as a spectator and as crew. I’ve seen some wins, and I’ve seen some spins, but this will stay with me for a long time.
Thank you again to the Corner Workers and the EV Crew of Summit Point Raceway. Here’s to a bigger, better tire wall.
So, intent on that, my dad and I decided to go down to the carousel and watch the Small Bore race on Monday, as they are always entertaining. We walked down the long dark road and sat at our usual spot, top left corner of the lower carousel grandstands. You can watch the cars appear down the chute, go through the twisty bits, and then go off into the distance up the hill.
A couple of laps into the race we noticed an SPU Mercedes trying an inside pass on a Baby Grand in 7. After the first tap, I thought for sure the Baby Grand was going off onto the grass. I mean, this was a tap from a Mercedes, but the little guy corrected and kept it on the track. Unfortunately, the Mercedes was occupying the space the Baby Grand needed, and there was another touch. This one was just enough to jolt the Mercedes a bit too far to the right and proceed off the track into the grass.
Now, I had seen this happen many, many times, cars coming at us at 7-8, but they always corrected, or just slid a bit and tap the tires, or, at worst, hit the tires and the embankment and come to a jarring stop. Not this time.
I was watching a movie. The Mercedes hit the tire wall at full speed (for that area) and it didn’t stop. It blasted into and over the tire embankment and through the beautiful brown fencing that surrounds the track.
On Sunday I remember seeing a Buick park in that area and set up their camp. They put up their tent, moved their car, and watched racing. By Monday, the car had moved a bit again, and the tent lay flat.
The Mercedes helped it move again, after it had cleared the lain down tent.
After brushing off the Buick, the Mercedes was aimed right at us. I mean, I could look the headlights straight in the eyes. And I did, as I watched it coming right at me. I kinda stood. I almost ran. But I kept thinking, it wont make it this far, it won’t hit us. I know my dad was to my right, but I couldn’t see him. My entire line of site was taken up by this car. I watched it in high-speed slow motion. It wont make it this far. It won’t hit us. I remember sort of crouching where I was, not yet ready to run. What if I ran and it didn’t hit, I'd look a fool. There was this pretty blonde to my left a bit.
Besides, it won’t make it this far, it won’t hit us.
And then it hit us.
Imagine sitting in a chair and someone comes up behind you and pulls the chair out from beneath you fast enough so that for a split second, you are sitting on air. That is what it felt like when it hit. So, if you can imagine the steepness of the grandstands, we were instantly about 2-3 feet in the air, not so gracefully. It wasn’t so bad… until we landed. Pesky gravity.
The left side, where we were sitting, or crouching, was pushed back about four feet back, off its foundation, the right side almost a foot. The grandstands actually cracked in half.
When I picked myself up, I saw dad, pretty much upside down, a couple rows below me. I guess he didn’t crouch.
We stood there for a second. It was kind of surreal. We started asking ourselves if we were all ok. And we all were, thankfully. Then the driver got out of his car and, luckily, he was fine, going so far as to try to wave off the ambulance.
But what to do next. You don’t just sit back down and continue watching racing after something like that, the driver, a knee on the fence, helmet by his feet, watching the race end.
Then, moments later, we were surrounded by orange shirts. They were everywhere, instantly. They immediately took charge and told us all to sit back down and get off the grandstands.
Some of use tried to do both.
Then they, and we, decided it was probably best to vacate our broken seats and get looked at. The orange shirts circulated the crowd checking for injuries. It was amazing how efficient it all went. The worst that I saw was my dad with a wee bit of blood on his elbow. Eyeing some of the tasteful rust spots decorating the grandstands, he opted for some antiseptic and a band-aid.
Soon after, we spotted some friends that had seen what had happened from other parts of the carousel heading towards us to check everyone’s well being. We were just a bit shaken and stirred.
Then I saw the red flags. The race had been stopped. One question answered.
The driver was ok, and we were ok. The grandstands, and the unlucky bicycle that had been resting up against the corner of the grandstands, were not. But thanks to the EV crews and corner workers, the situation was under control and all was being taken care of.
I went around back, underneath, to get my water bottle and found the hat my dad had been knocked out of. We hitched a ride with some friends back to our paddocks.
I have been going to Summit Point for 29 years now as a spectator and as crew. I’ve seen some wins, and I’ve seen some spins, but this will stay with me for a long time.
Thank you again to the Corner Workers and the EV Crew of Summit Point Raceway. Here’s to a bigger, better tire wall.