Rambling Words, Rambling Wheels

There is so much more to racing than what the drivers get to do. And just like the chance that regular folks get to drive in ChumpCar, regular folks get the rare opportunity to work trackside at ChumpCar.

I had no idea what to expect when I volunteered for the 2010 Iowa ChumpCar event. I had decided long before the event to clear my calendar for the weekend to volunteer, whatever that meant. I filled out the volunteer form suggesting that I would work however the ChumpCar needed; cleaning fluid spills, fixing meals or running as “gopher”. It all amounted to an experience that I won’t soon forget.

There is so much more to racing than what the drivers get to do. And just like the chance that regular folks get to drive in ChumpCar, regular folks get the rare opportunity to work trackside at ChumpCar.

I had no idea what to expect when I volunteered for the 2010 Iowa ChumpCar event. I had decided long before the event to clear my calendar for the weekend to volunteer, whatever that meant. I filled out the volunteer form suggesting that I would work however the ChumpCar needed; cleaning fluid spills, fixing meals or running as “gopher”. It all amounted to an experience that I won’t soon forget.

I’m a car guy. I follow a lot of racing, and I know classic and contemporary cars fairly well. I do my own repair work, when possible. I even have an classic in my garage to tinker with. I have zero track time, but I look forward to hitting a few apexes someday.

Closer to the Action

Getting “closer to racing” became a goal. A couple years ago after meeting an IndyCar official shortly after the Indy 500, I realized working at a race gets you close to the action. So, I started looking for ways to sate my hunger. But, big series require big credentials and travel.

ChumpCar offered the chance I was looking for. My vision for the weekend was to get back to the roots of racing. You know, a bunch of motorheads and friends dragging a few cars out, working hard to drive fast. Like the drivers in nothing but a polo and khakis from the ‘60s. Or, the opening fan sequences in the Steve McQueen classic “Le Mans”. Raw, organic, ragtag and enthusiastic racing.

And, it’s not just for the drivers and teams.

On my first shift, I manned the caution lights on the road course portion of the track, and helped the spotters in the tower. After helping Erik place their supplemental lights, I clipped on my radio and headed to a distant portion of the track. I spent the next eight hours between two concrete barriers that formed a point. On one side was the oval’s back straight that turned into the first road course turn just off the tip of the point. The other side faced a later series of turns, with cars coming toward the barrier, separated by grass and a gravel trap. Two track emergency workers were stationed at the location for the first third of the event.

Cars came flying past from the back straightaway, diving into the first road course turn. It seemed I could have reached out and touch them. My focus, however, was the seven turns that made up the infield road course. I got in the groove fairly easily, clicking my caution light remote controls at the command of the tower. It may seem trivial, but keep in mind the rules that go along with cautions. Passing is prohibited; speeds are regulated. If I turned a light on too late, a driver could be penalized for passing because of my mistake. Back on too late, and a driver misses a chance at a pass on the restart. That’s pretty important stuff in racing.

I also took my responsibility to help the tower spotters very seriously. If a car was suspected of leaking fluid or dragging parts (remember, these are crap cans), I would radio in confirmation. See a car go off course, call it out. I even helped spot a section of the course that needed better marking (using cones) to keep drivers on the track.

I learned the car numbers, which were used to identify them on the radio. I picked up on their driving styles. One Saab driver would always get up on three wheels going into the first road course turn. A Taurus SHO would drive clear to the end of the turning zone, then stand on the brakes, hoping (and often failing) to make the sharp left hander. I became very aware of the sounds of each car. I could tell with my back to the straightaway who was entering the road portion.

And the work was mentally draining. The constant attention to the action, tracking each car, picking up on problems. There wasn’t much time to do anything but observe. The near constant sounds of cars was a symphony.

And it was phenomenal. I was in the center of the action at a 24-hour race. I was helping keep the drivers safe, even shaping the way the race was run. There’s no better way to truly be a part of a race.

After my first eight-hour shift, I got closer to convincing the lead Chumps that I was there for the duration. We tried to run the lights from the control tower, but it wasn’t possible. I pulled another half shift that evening, got some rest, then was back at it for the final five hours of the race. I kept doing the same job because, well, I was good at it. I know the cars and the track, and was able to help.

In all, I worked 18 hours of the 24. But, it really only takes an eight-hour commitment to be a big help. You might end up checking cars in as they enter pit lane (like Alex did the same weekend, and he was even less experienced that me). You might get to track the cars as they do their work in pit lane. You could even try to do my job better.

As I’m writing this, a tweet was posted from some distant location. “I just pray one day, God will let me get a job in racing. Any job...even sweep the garage floors...I don’t care. :-)” (Twitter, jsummerton, 7/1/2010). Guess what, ChumpCar answers that prayer. Get out there, and don’t let the drivers have all the fun!

Next >