That's just racing. . .

            In the last segment of the blog we had just completed the heat race.  I had gained a couple of spots, and kept the car in one piece, however, contrary to what I believed going into that afternoon, stock car racing, even at this level, was much harder than I had anticipated.

            I sat on the edge of my trailer after the heat race, with a million thoughts running through my head.  For the life of me, I really couldn’t remember the race.  It all happened so fast, the green flag dropped and I followed ten other screaming racecars into turn one.  The next thing I knew, the checkered flag was flying.  I sat there, wondering what I had gotten, not only myself, but all my friends into.

            I was informed by the chief steward, and the race director, that since I had no prior experience in these cars, I was going to have to start in the back of the pack.  I acted upset about it but, in all honesty, I was relieved.  The feature was called for and my crew got the car ready for action.  I suited up and strapped in.  There were 19 cars competing that night in our division, and I was starting shotgun on the field.  It is said that growing up racing the Saturday night short tracks of America, gains you invaluable experience.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to gain a whole lot of experience.

            The field got the 1-to-go signal from the head flagger, and the lights went out atop the pace car.  While the leaders were exiting turn 4, I was still on the backstretch due to the amount of cars.  The green flag was displayed and we were turned loose.  I got up to speed and shifted into high gear.  I was able to pick up 2 spots on the first lap, and I was gunning for more.  The car felt like it was all over the place, but I was able to gain on the cars ahead of me.  I passed another car and set my sights on the 15^th and 16^th place cars.  They were side by side and banging off of each other.  I remembered thinking to myself, “This isn’t where I want to be, these guys are getting into it.”  That thought was interrupted by the car on the bottom starting to spin going into turn 3.  I started to check up to avoid the car, in doing so, the car that was behind me went to my outside and blocked me on the bottom.  Somehow the car that was spinning kept it on the bottom of the track and did a 180 degree spin to face me.  At the speed we were traveling and the car to my right, I was not able to move to the outside and get around him.  So I tried to go low, and in doing so I hit his right front with my right front.

            After I hit him I somehow regained control and tried to understand why all this smoke was coming from the front of my car.  What I realized was, the smoke was steam from my radiator, and steering was getting much harder.  I was limping down the frontstrech when the flagger started waving the black flag at me and race control was yelling at me to stop where I was.  I stopped the car and shut the engine off, lowered my window net and climbed out of the car.  I walked around to the front of the race car, and saw that I no longer had a front bumper, and a big puddle of water underneath the car.  I refused a ride on the ambulance, waived to the crowd and walked back to pits. 

            I was upset, to say the least.  I changed out of my firesuit and waited for my car to be towed back to the pit area.  The tow truck came and dropped the car off, and drove away.  The front of the car was absolutely destroyed.  The right front tire was pushed back into the right door, and the whole front of the car was ripped open.  The only thought I had at that moment was, “How in the world was I getting this thing on the trailer”.  It only has 3 wheels that roll, it can’t steer, and I have no idea if I hurt the motor.

            To make a long story short, we winched the car onto the trailer and packed everything back up.  We left the speedway and headed home, with a much different mood in the truck than 9 hours before.  I only completed 3 laps of the feature, and I had a check for 110 dollars in my pocket for my troubles.  This was not how I envisioned my first race.

            Thanks to everyone who follows this blog, leave a few comments- let me know what you think.  As always- please check out my sponsors on this page, they help me out so see what they are about.  Happy New Year to all- stay safe and start the new year off right.  Check back January 4^th for the next update.

My First Race. . .

            We made the two and a half hour drive from our shop( it was really nothing more than a one and a half car garage) and pulled into the pits.  The ride up to the track was scary enough, especially with an overloaded pick-up truck.  Now it was time to go racing.

            Anyone who has raced in their past, knows the procedure of competing at a local short track.  For those of you who haven’t raced, let me explain the environment that you are about to enter.  You and your crew, or friends, who have blindly followed into this endeavor, have to sign a waiver of rights and wrongful death.  Along with that you must hand over thirty dollars, and let me be clear- you have just done all this at the most broken down looking building, run by some less than inviting people.

            Now that you’re legal, so to speak, its time to find a parking spot.  Since jacking a car up on a jack, in a stone driveway is almost impossible, not to mention really unsafe, you fork over another 35 bucks to buy a paved parking spot.  Once you park you set up your pits, and get ready for the nights action.  It’s important to note; when you left the shop- not more than 3 hours earlier- you were feeling high on yourself and all the hard work that you did.  This is a summary of what it was like for me, at least, when I went to the track for the first time.

            I walked around the pits and suddenly felt very small and insignificant, other teams spent more money on the trailer that brought the cars to the race track- than I had in my entire operation.  I saw multiple sets of tires being measured and matched up for later on in the night.  Teams with matching shirts, and fancy looking cars lined the pits.  I heard the call for practice and headed back to my pit area.

            Although I had rented the track two weeks prior to this day, I was going to be out on the track for the first time with other cars.  I strapped into my seat and started the engine; I have to honestly say, at this point, I was ready to throw up.  I don’t think I was ever as nervous as I was at that moment.  To make a long story short, practice went fine, we didn’t wreck and we were starting last for our heat race.

            One of the next things I got to do that night was go to my first drivers meeting.  I always envisioned that really important stuff was talked about in those meetings.  Although safety topics were discussed, nothing was really different from my karting days.  I was really expecting to have some sort of profound experience, but instead I walked away wondering what I was about to do.

            My crew readied the car for the heat race, which in those days, consisted of making sure the tires weren’t flat and it had enough gas to make it to the end of the race.  Once again I strapped into the seat and out onto the track I went.  We all lined up, and got ready for the green flag.  The knot in my stomach was being twisted around and I was in sensory overload.  The sights, sounds, and smells all bombarded me at that moment.  On a side note; the smells inside a racecar are one of the most vivid details to me.  I often don’t remember the race in great amounts of detail, or be able to tell you what was happening at a certain lap number- mostly because of how intensely focused I am, but the smells stick with you forever.  The racing fuel exhaust, the rubber of the tires, the odor of the brakes, gear oil being burned on an engine’s header.  That’s the smell of racing, the smell of my racecar- and each one is just a little bit different.  Anyway- like I said I was in sensory overload, and the green flag was about to drop.

            I would love to lie to you and tell you when the green flag dropped we drove right to the front of the pack.  I would love to tell you the car worked beautifully and I looked like Dale Earnhardt, or Jeff Gordon, effortlessly maneuvering my machine in and out of traffic.  This is just simply not what happened, in fact, I really don’t remember too much about that race- except I started 11^th and finished 9^th.  I completed the race and pulled the car over to our pit area.  I climbed out of the car and flopped down on the edge of the trailer.  This was not nearly as easy as I thought it was going to be, but at least I was racing.

            Check back on December 29^th for the conclusion to my first race, the feature got really interesting.  As always please check out my sponsors on this page, they help support my effort- so help support them.  Please have a safe and Merry Christmas, and enjoy the time you get to spend with family and friends.

The Next Step. . .

           The transition from go-karts to stock cars was a big one.  Most kids were going to micro-sprints, or a small 4 cylinder cars to gain some experience.  I didn’t have the money to spend a few years in those lower classes so I went after a car in the class of pro-stock.  It’s basically a dumbed down asphalt late model, and a lot more complicated than I gave it credit for.

            I remember the day I bought my first stock car.  I thought I was going to go conquer the asphalt racing world.  One Saturday morning in June of 2002, I traveled to New Jersey and bought the car, a trailer and a whole bunch of spare parts for way to much money.  The only thing I knew at that moment, was that I had a racecar and it was coming home with me.  At the time, I didn’t have a shop, so I convinced my parents into letting me keep it in the family home’s two car garage.  I crammed it so full of parts I had absolutely no room to work.  This was also the time I realized that neighbors in a rural sub-division do not share my enthusiasm for racecars.  It was time to find my own space.

            I found a garage to rent that was close to home and convinced the landlord that I wouldn’t be loud or cause any trouble.  The costs of racing were quickly mounting, and although I was living at home still, I was starting to run out of money- and I hadn’t even been on the track yet.  To this point, I was doing most of this by myself, I had been able to line all of this up, and to this point make it happen.  This didn’t seem too hard, but I quickly learned I needed extra help.  I enlisted a buddy of mine, we were friends from high school, and more importantly his girlfriend was friends with my girlfriend.  I remember that our first race was going to be in August of that year, and we spent that summer getting the car ready to go, painting it and making it ours.

            It is important to note, at this point, the racecar was definitely taking more of our time than we thought it would.  The summer of 2002, I realized that girls might think racecars are cool, but they don’t like it when their boyfriends spend more time with a car, than they do with them.  Life is just full of lessons.

            August came and so did the Saturday that would be our first race.  Picture 2 guys, a beat up Chevy pick-up, which was completely over loaded with stuff we didn’t need, a trailer that was too heavy for the truck, and a racecar that barley fit on the trailer.  Throw it a 19 year old kid that never really towed anything and you have a recipe for disaster.  We packed the truck, with our girlfriends, and a few sandwiches, and down the road we went, not realizing what laid ahead for us, just chasing a dream of going racing.

            Check back on December 22^nd, I will have another update, and please check out my sponsors on this page, they help us out- so click them and see what they are about.

A little bit about the beginning

To let you fully understand where I want this dream to take me and my family, you must first have an understanding of where I've been.  I certainly do not want to paint a picture that I had a terrible childhood, or a rough upbringing.  In fact, I was very fortunate to have great parents, ones that cared about the person I would become someday.  They tried their best to teach me what I needed to know, and how to succeed in life.
       On the flip side, We didn't have tremendous amounts of money, or connections with people who did, there were no silver spoons, no trust funds, or opportunities just being dropped on our door.  In my opinion, we were pretty normal.  If I wanted something, I was taught that you had to work for it, and that if you really wanted something, it was going to take lots of work- but it wasn't going to kill you.
        When I approached my parents about buying a go-kart, I'm sure they had no idea of what was going to come of that, but what they did see, was an opportunity to teach me something.  They told me to research what I wanted, talk to people in the industry, and learn about it.  So a few months later I presented with what I found out, they seemed pleased- and I told them I needed 3000 dollars to buy a karting operation.  They told me that they would loan me the money, but it was just like any other loan.  They had terms and conditions, and a rate of 9% with a payment book they made for me.  So at age 11, I signed my life away and borrowed the money.
      About a month later, life taught me a huge lesson- that hard work, knowledge, and perseverance do NOT guarantee success.  I destroyed the kart in my very first race and spent the remainder of the borrowed money to fix it.  I continued to race and had moderate success, but more than that I was learning all of the life lessons that I would rely on later in life.