Railbird
10-24-03, 02:16 PM
CAUTION!.. no racing content contained
Petit Lemans 2003
Waking up in a tent on a cold morning can only mean one thing, I'm at a racetrack.
Walking up to a track you've never seen before as the sun rises is as near to spiritual as a mud-shoe like myself gets.
Leaning on the fence checking the place out through the fog with my kid makes all of life's bullsheet worthwhile.
but I digress
It was a cool and rainy morning in Indy...
Freakin' 5am is early no matter where you're going, and a cool rainy darkness makes it that much worse. Between packing up the gear and waiting for the kid we hit the road shortly before 7a. About 11 freakin' hours later we parked at the track.
The trip down was no cake-walk with a little rain confounding the usual Friday commuters, but it all went to hell about twenty miles outside of Atlanta. I don't know if those folks are always that bad at driving in the rain or if it was a special display of incompetance played out just for us, but it sure as hell slowed things down. Trust me here racefans, the 20/23 goat path is the way to go.
Arriving with the sunlight slipping away we busied ourselves with finding a campsite in an already crowded infield. A casual conversation with another fan concerning an open place to pitch a tent in the area bordering turns 2, 3 and 4 led to an invitation to occupy a choice spot under a few trees overlooking one of the main access roads. Rookie Luck, nothing like it.
After pitching tent we strolled around the campsites and then venture down into the paddock. While most of the teams were locked down for the evening a few were still in full thrash mode. Banana Joe's LMP was undergoing some extensive body work while the Prodrive team was pulling off a last minute engine swap. Watching those guys complete an engine change in the length of time it took me to polish off a frosty one is proof enough that myself and them chose the proper career paths. Seeing those beautiful V12s rolled around on little carts like a blue light special at Kmart was worth the trip itself.
Back to the camp for dead meat on the grill and a smokey fire to wind down from an eventful day.
Gotta love the sportscar fans, no AC/DC, no Skynard, just a litte "best of" Clapton blues wafting through a campsite full of good fans sitting around fires talking about the sport they love. Nice
Saturday morning found the kid and I watching the sun rise over a cold and foggy track with nothing but bad coats and foo-foo coffee to warm us. Then, shortly after sun rise, a welcome voice came over the PA followed by that sound we all live to hear. Morning warmups brought out a screaming combination of wild ass V12's and turbo V8's mixed in with Porsche 6s and pushrod eights to push the fog and cold back and usher in a perfect day for racing.
The "arrive and drive" race offered us a chance to gather souvineers and make one more visit the paddock, then it was time to watch a looong race.
A stiring anthem was only upstaged by a spetacular fly-over. F18s at full tilt boogie always serve to remind me why I'm glad my ass isn't planted on a camel spouting some bs from a toy religion.
Drop the Damm Flag!
Since the race itself has already been described and debunked by the pros, I'll just try to fill in the details from the other side of the fence.
Watching the start from the entry of the esses was nothing short of thrilling with a thunderous mixed bag of racers going for it as if starting sprint rather than an enduro. Tire smoke and dirt kicked up from the apexes filled the sky to ad to the already spectacular view.
Great Stuff!
The next few hours were spent walking the course and checking out different sight lines. Let me tell you something racefans, this ain't no "Nancy Boy" racecourse. Although I had seen it many times on TV, as usual, the real thing was completely different. Some unbelieveable elevation changes laced with a challenging combination of high speed esses, long winding straights and uphill/downhill curves soon had me convinced that I was visiting the most difficult roadcourse I have seen up to this point in time. From the view of the esses from Spectator Hill to the high speed downhill 11/12 entry to the main stretch this course presents some spectacular vistas for the fans.
Back to the campsite for a quick break and to catch some SPEED updates on the trusty scanner.With the network being "off air" at the time the chattter was a little more revealing than usual, not to mention a bit more spicey. Between the on-air talent speculating on what they had just seen and the production weenies doing their best "Klink and Burkholter" imitations we were exposed to a somewhat different slant on the Beila/Joest troubles.
After watching an interesting mix of motorized whatevers and curvaceuos whoevers pass by our campsite we saddled up once again.
A pass through the paddock had us on top a few pitstops and driver changes which was pretty interesting. Watching Johnny O'Connell fiddle incessantly with his helmet/hans while Emanuaele Piro made a helmet-on last minute dash by on his way to the loo brings to mind how much adrenaline is pumping in the "at rest" drivers. Touring the paddock during an on-going event with the sun warming you and a cold one cooling you is surely as good as it gets for this racefan.
Over the Suzuki bridge we found a tent converted to a fully functional sports bar, with two big screens keeping the tired and thirsty up to date with all the on-track happenings and a foxy little milf serving up a full array of hops products, this place turned out to be a good mid-race rest stop.
Did I mention the hotties astride the mechanical bull?
maybe later.
Back to the campsite for warmer clothes and the scanner, we headed buck uuuuuuuup to spectator hill to watch the field negotiate the esses in the dark. What a sight! Having never seen a race in the pitch black this was somewhat of an epiphany for us. As always TV does this excersice no justice whatsoever. The ALMS practice of using different tints in the headlamps is a real help for the fans and I'm quite sure an intimidating warning to the backmarkers. Seeing the Joest Audi closing at ten tenths must still be getting a mental replay in the minds of the GT drivers a week later.
Unbelievably we realized this race was quickly coming to an end. Who would have ever thought that after ten hours one would still be ready for more? But the end was near so we started schlepping for the paddock hoping to view some of the podium ceremonies.
And view we did, after watching from above for a while we managed to slip the guards and join in ourselves. Getting sprayed with champaign while shaking hands with some of the contestants was a way too cool way to cap off a great weekend of racing.
After a bit of sleep in another chilly Georgia night it was back on the road for the trip home.
We shall return!
Petit Lemans 2003
Waking up in a tent on a cold morning can only mean one thing, I'm at a racetrack.
Walking up to a track you've never seen before as the sun rises is as near to spiritual as a mud-shoe like myself gets.
Leaning on the fence checking the place out through the fog with my kid makes all of life's bullsheet worthwhile.
but I digress
It was a cool and rainy morning in Indy...
Freakin' 5am is early no matter where you're going, and a cool rainy darkness makes it that much worse. Between packing up the gear and waiting for the kid we hit the road shortly before 7a. About 11 freakin' hours later we parked at the track.
The trip down was no cake-walk with a little rain confounding the usual Friday commuters, but it all went to hell about twenty miles outside of Atlanta. I don't know if those folks are always that bad at driving in the rain or if it was a special display of incompetance played out just for us, but it sure as hell slowed things down. Trust me here racefans, the 20/23 goat path is the way to go.
Arriving with the sunlight slipping away we busied ourselves with finding a campsite in an already crowded infield. A casual conversation with another fan concerning an open place to pitch a tent in the area bordering turns 2, 3 and 4 led to an invitation to occupy a choice spot under a few trees overlooking one of the main access roads. Rookie Luck, nothing like it.
After pitching tent we strolled around the campsites and then venture down into the paddock. While most of the teams were locked down for the evening a few were still in full thrash mode. Banana Joe's LMP was undergoing some extensive body work while the Prodrive team was pulling off a last minute engine swap. Watching those guys complete an engine change in the length of time it took me to polish off a frosty one is proof enough that myself and them chose the proper career paths. Seeing those beautiful V12s rolled around on little carts like a blue light special at Kmart was worth the trip itself.
Back to the camp for dead meat on the grill and a smokey fire to wind down from an eventful day.
Gotta love the sportscar fans, no AC/DC, no Skynard, just a litte "best of" Clapton blues wafting through a campsite full of good fans sitting around fires talking about the sport they love. Nice
Saturday morning found the kid and I watching the sun rise over a cold and foggy track with nothing but bad coats and foo-foo coffee to warm us. Then, shortly after sun rise, a welcome voice came over the PA followed by that sound we all live to hear. Morning warmups brought out a screaming combination of wild ass V12's and turbo V8's mixed in with Porsche 6s and pushrod eights to push the fog and cold back and usher in a perfect day for racing.
The "arrive and drive" race offered us a chance to gather souvineers and make one more visit the paddock, then it was time to watch a looong race.
A stiring anthem was only upstaged by a spetacular fly-over. F18s at full tilt boogie always serve to remind me why I'm glad my ass isn't planted on a camel spouting some bs from a toy religion.
Drop the Damm Flag!
Since the race itself has already been described and debunked by the pros, I'll just try to fill in the details from the other side of the fence.
Watching the start from the entry of the esses was nothing short of thrilling with a thunderous mixed bag of racers going for it as if starting sprint rather than an enduro. Tire smoke and dirt kicked up from the apexes filled the sky to ad to the already spectacular view.
Great Stuff!
The next few hours were spent walking the course and checking out different sight lines. Let me tell you something racefans, this ain't no "Nancy Boy" racecourse. Although I had seen it many times on TV, as usual, the real thing was completely different. Some unbelieveable elevation changes laced with a challenging combination of high speed esses, long winding straights and uphill/downhill curves soon had me convinced that I was visiting the most difficult roadcourse I have seen up to this point in time. From the view of the esses from Spectator Hill to the high speed downhill 11/12 entry to the main stretch this course presents some spectacular vistas for the fans.
Back to the campsite for a quick break and to catch some SPEED updates on the trusty scanner.With the network being "off air" at the time the chattter was a little more revealing than usual, not to mention a bit more spicey. Between the on-air talent speculating on what they had just seen and the production weenies doing their best "Klink and Burkholter" imitations we were exposed to a somewhat different slant on the Beila/Joest troubles.
After watching an interesting mix of motorized whatevers and curvaceuos whoevers pass by our campsite we saddled up once again.
A pass through the paddock had us on top a few pitstops and driver changes which was pretty interesting. Watching Johnny O'Connell fiddle incessantly with his helmet/hans while Emanuaele Piro made a helmet-on last minute dash by on his way to the loo brings to mind how much adrenaline is pumping in the "at rest" drivers. Touring the paddock during an on-going event with the sun warming you and a cold one cooling you is surely as good as it gets for this racefan.
Over the Suzuki bridge we found a tent converted to a fully functional sports bar, with two big screens keeping the tired and thirsty up to date with all the on-track happenings and a foxy little milf serving up a full array of hops products, this place turned out to be a good mid-race rest stop.
Did I mention the hotties astride the mechanical bull?
maybe later.
Back to the campsite for warmer clothes and the scanner, we headed buck uuuuuuuup to spectator hill to watch the field negotiate the esses in the dark. What a sight! Having never seen a race in the pitch black this was somewhat of an epiphany for us. As always TV does this excersice no justice whatsoever. The ALMS practice of using different tints in the headlamps is a real help for the fans and I'm quite sure an intimidating warning to the backmarkers. Seeing the Joest Audi closing at ten tenths must still be getting a mental replay in the minds of the GT drivers a week later.
Unbelievably we realized this race was quickly coming to an end. Who would have ever thought that after ten hours one would still be ready for more? But the end was near so we started schlepping for the paddock hoping to view some of the podium ceremonies.
And view we did, after watching from above for a while we managed to slip the guards and join in ourselves. Getting sprayed with champaign while shaking hands with some of the contestants was a way too cool way to cap off a great weekend of racing.
After a bit of sleep in another chilly Georgia night it was back on the road for the trip home.
We shall return!