Never the Same IC #25 The Big Day Part 3

Kirk had come a long way, in more ways than one, to drive at the speedway. As a kid, he play raced in the old field car, but this was the real thing!

 

Kirk might have been grim in his racing picture, but one thing you could say for him he was responsible. In this case, the race official told him to study the on-track rules, so when Kirk got back to his pit parking spot, he sat down on a tire and opened the rule book.

 On his return, he had noticed that when Mike came back from technical inspection, that he had a yellow sticker as well. Nothing was said about both cars having yellow stickers indicating they had technical discrepancies to be remedied. Don in the meantime had busied himself with getting tools out ready in case something went pear shaped with the cars. As it neared driver’s meeting time at one o-clock, Kirk became more apprehensive about the whole situation of mixing and racing with experienced drivers. Mike wandered through the pits, shooting the breeze with the other drivers he knew from past seasons. Kirk recognized some of the drivers’ names on the cars’ rooves, but he didn’t know any of them from Adam.

Kirk saw that there were as many older guys, obviously not racers, as the number of drivers and mechanics. He assumed they were fathers, uncles, maybe even grandfathers supporting their racing progenies. Kirk’s own father couldn’t care less that he was going to start racing. To him it was a waste of time and money, a frivolous pursuit that took Kirk away from the farm. On an up note, Kirk felt glad to be far from the farm and there at the track infused into the realm of speed. He continued his perusal of the NASCAR rule book.

Of course, there were separate sections concerning technical and safety requirements and other sections about the different grievances including on how to protest a race’s outcome. Kirk didn’t think he needed to know about any of that stuff. He moved on to actual competition rules. He was drawn to flagging rules and how to respond to each.

Of course, everyone who attends races knows that the green flag starts the race and remains flying with the green light shining as long as the race commenced without incidents.  With the paving of the tracks, NASCAR installed the red/yellow/green light system. The yellow flag means caution, and drivers should slow and hold positions usually with the help of the redeployed pace car. A red flag or light means an immediate stop whether a wreck, debris, or other impediment is blocking the track creating a danger to continued car movement. When the track cleanup crew is on the track a red flag would be flying. A white flag means one more lap whether the last lap of the event or the last lap of warm up or practice.

 Other flags are less familiar to spectators. Like the black flag means a driver should get off the track because of excessive damage, sheet metal loose, leaks, or other problems that could cause a hazard to others. A driver could be black flagged for dangerous driving behavior and so this flag can also be called the consultant flag to clarify with officials afterwards if necessary.  A black with a white cross flag means a car was disqualified most likely for not obeying the black flag. A yellow with a red stripe flag is not used that much but means there is debris on the track. A blue flag with a diagonal yellow stripe means a slower car(s) are being overtaken by faster lapping cars and the slower cars should politely yield and give the faster cars room to pass without impeding their speed.  Two flags, the red and black displayed means that practice/warm up laps are over. 

When one o’clock neared, Kirk noticed a general wandering toward the two officials at the inspection area. It was time for the driver’s meeting. Kirk set the rule book inside the truck cab and decided that he didn’t learn anything new from the book so expected a rude awakening at the meeting. He invited Don along to the meeting and so the older friend tagged along. When they strolled up, they saw Mike already there laughing it up with another driver. After a few minutes, the officials shouted for everyone’s attention.

“Welcome to the first day of the new racing season. As you are well aware of by now, our tracks are now sanctioned by NASCAR which means rules will be followed a bit more tightly this year.” Kirk heard a couple snickers in the crowd. “Yeah right, George, this applies to you!” More snickers erupted with some of the guys turning to an older squat man who wore a greasy, well-worn firesuit who gave a sharp salute toward the official. Kirk assumed the forementioned George was the Late Model driver who had been around forever, usually a mid-pack finisher. Kirk had heard he was a regular cut up off the track.

 “Okay, I hope everyone has had their car inspected, if not, you must get inspected to be allowed on the track today. No exceptions. If discrepancies were found during the inspections they must be resolved before next week’s races. We recommend all drivers read through the NASCAR rule book even you old heads that have been racing forever, George! 

“Today’s practice will be run as in years past. We’ll start with late models and work through the classes with only six cars on the track at a time, fifteen minutes each. There will be no race speeds during practice, just like normal warm up laps on race days so keep your feet off the floor. Does everyone understand? We don’t want any of those shiny paint jobs marred on practice day, do we?” Kirk wondered if he was referring to Mike and his bright silver cars. The official paused and scanned the drivers. “If you need alone time on the track, George, you can sign up here for a ten minute block to get your car dialed in.

“Hope everyone has a good racing season with minimal grievances, right George? Also, finally, our sister track at Holland is having their practice day tomorrow. Same schedule as here today, so if you want, just show up. Good luck to everyone during this racing season.”

Kirk let out a silent sigh while taking in the small crowd of drivers that slowly dispersed. He and Don walked back to their parking area. Mike was somewhere else. Kirk nervously looked at his car. He walked around the car taking a close examination here and there though his brain wasn’t registering a single thing he looked at. It didn’t occur to him that he could drive his Firebird like a mad man with tire burning drag races and illegal one-twenty plus speed runs on the open highway and here, here he was nervous as hell. Sucking him out of his inner dialog, several Late Model cars fired up. Yep, here it begins.

Kirk really couldn’t think of anything to do on the car or himself before it was his turn to go out on the track. He didn’t want to be in the first practice wave for his class so he’d hold back. From his vantage point in the pits, all he could see of the track was the front straightaway and the distant parts of the first and fourth turns. The flagman climbed up to his perch and arranged his array of flags. Currently, the red flag flew along with the red light that he could see on turn four.

The public address system (PA) squawked causing Kirk to jump out of his wits and nearly fall off his tire seat. The officials announced line-up for the practice of Late Model class cars. Within minutes, the first Late Model cars lined up on the dirt lane by the track gate, the sweet low rumbling of high performance V-8s filled the air.  The fumes of high-octane air/fuel ratio wafted in the air. Already up, Kirk’s adrenaline began inching up; his heart rate increasing.  

As he watched, the pit steward swung the gate, a section of the guard rail, wide open and he waved the cars on the track. He stopped the lineup with the seventh car so they stuck to their guns with how many they wanted on the track. Kirk saw the light change to yellow and the flagman hung the yellow flag out. The gate closed as the cars made their way around the track slowly. After three slow laps, the flagman waved the white flag. The engine noise increased a bit. As the cars made their way around, the light on the fourth turn turned green and the flag man waved the green, and they took off. It was louder, faster, but Kirk could tell the difference between this controlled speed and the wide-open rushing roar during races. They went on like that for several laps before coasting down. Kirk noticed the red light and the red and black flags were out. That bunch finished and rumbled off the track with the next six waiting in line. Kirk wiped sweat from his forehead and wrung his hands in anticipation.

During the third wave of Late Models, the PA blared that Kirk’s class should begin lining up. Kirk jumped up and snatched his firesuit out of his car. He sat on the car’s nerf bar fumbling his boots off, his socks resting on the dusty ground. He pulled up his suit, zipped it up and secured the Velcro closures. In the meantime, Mike came back already wearing his firesuit. Without a word, he crawled in his car, donned his helmet, fired off the engine and headed for the track gate. Don gave a thumbs up to Kirk and headed to the pit stands to watch. Kirk thought it just as well Mike got in the first wave because he sure didn’t want to be on the track at the same time as his “experienced” brother-in-law, Mike. Kirk pulled on his boots, laced them up tightly, and snugly closed the Velcro pantlegs. He noticed the last Late Models coming off the track. He crawled into his car. His seat position was a bit different than in normal cars because his legs were almost stretched out horizontally, but it hadn’t bothered him in the couple times he actually worked the pedals.

Kirk sat a moment holding a deep breath. Letting it out, he pulled up the kill switch, pumped the gas twice, pushed in the clutch, and hit the start button. The engine roared to life, and he feathered the accelerator a little to keep the cool engine running. The oil pressure gauge sprang up which all he had other than the temperature gauge which still sat on the cold peg. He threw the shifter into neutral and let the clutch out. He pulled on his helmet and looked to the track to see the first wave of his class already on the track. He carefully backed out and followed another car from his class to the gate. It looked like he was the seventh car in the line. He waited pondering what would come next. What would it be inside the asphalt banks? Would it be intimidating? Claustrophobic? Overwhelming?

As he pulled into line, he could see the light change to green with flashes of cars flashing by through the gaps in the guard rail. The temperature gauge inched up as he sat there and idled.

Soon enough, the first practice wave finished that included Mike. When he drove by Kirk, he gave a curt wave. Kirk nervously waved back wearing his smiley grim expression. With the gate open, the steward waved the cars on the track and of course stopped at Kirk. On the grade, he stepped on the brakes noticing three cars sitting behind him. Kirk hit the kill switch which immediately struck a nerve with Kirk making him wonder if it would restart. Why wouldn’t it? He swallowed hard knowing he’ll be leading the pack of cars onto the track not exactly what he wanted to do for his first time! There he sat hearing the cars on the track, the cars idling behind him. And he sat, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel hard, his foot pressing hard on the brakes. It seemed like the other cars were on the track and awfully long time, but just as he thought it, through the gap in the guard rails, he saw the light flash to red; the engine noise subsided.  

The track steward rolled his arm in a gesture for him to start up. With a fumble, he pulled up the kill switch and pumped the gas. BIG MISTAKE! When the engine is warm you don’t do that. He hit the starter and the engine cranked and cranked, it stuttered a bit like it would start, and he cranked some more. The steward gestured for him to hurry. Kirk floored the accelerator to help clear the engine of extra gas. With a couple more spins, the engine roared to life, revving way too fast. The steward waved him forward.  Fumbling the transition with brake, clutch and accelerator, Kirk rolled backwards, but he let the clutch out too fast, and he lurched forward almost stalling the engine, but he caught it in time.

Entry from the track from the outside gate is an uphill grade, meant there was a high spot where the entry lane went up over the paved edge of the track. Kirk went straight over instead of at an angle. CRRUUUKKKKK! The car bottomed out on the edge because the car had such a long wheelbase. As he coasted onto the track turning right onto the third turn, Kirk wondered if he ripped off the bottom of the oil pan. The oil pressure gauge still registered where it was supposed to at fifty pounds of pressure. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he didn’t see oil on the track looking in his mirror. Creeping along in first gear Kirk was awestruck being on the track. It was like being in an oblong bowl of asphalt with the banks higher on the end turns. The other cars closed in tight behind him, too tight for Kirk’s comfort, though his comfort level was at rock bottom at the moment anyway. Kirk drove on hugging the low inner edge of the track, the lowest side of the pavement next to the dirt and grass of the infield veering sharply around the turns.

Kirk didn’t even notice the flagman’s flag, but he saw the signal light was yellow on the first turn. He remained going slow in first gear as the whole experience of being on the track boggled his brain. So he stayed low and slow with the cars tagging behind on his bumper. Going past the entry gate, the steward had the gate closed, but he waved to Kirk to go faster so he stepped down a bit. Heading down the front straight, the flagman waved the white flag but he also waved him on to go faster, but they said not to go fast in the meeting Kirk reminded himself. Kirk kept cruising slowly around the track afraid to go too fast and set a pace that he could get black flagged for. They all came around third and fourth turn and the green light flashed on. As soon as the bunched-up pack passed the flagman tower, ALL the cars immediately went around Kirk, leaving him behind. The blast of exhaust noise from each car assaulted his ears as they accelerated past.

Well, he thought they’d probably come up behind him again quite quickly at his slow pace, so he geared up to second gear and feathered the accelerator down a little. He had known from bench racing with Mike that the cars were set up to run at race speed in second gear. Kirk saw the cars across the infield definitely going faster than he was at the moment. He speeded up a bit more, but basically, he just drove around the track. Comparing his engine sound to the other cars, he thought his engine sounded like a loud truck not unlike the old car hauler. The sound and vibration through his seat, feet and hands increased with his speed and engine RPMs.  Going into every corner, approaching the banked turns, it looked and felt to Kirk like the approach to a steep hill though instead of going up you turned left to go along the slope of the imagined hill with the car leaning left side down. Kirk thought the super-smooth pavement rolling under the car looked and felt remarkable.

The car had been somewhat set up before by Mike so that meant the car more or less wanted to go in circles, and Kirk only had to aim more or less around the track. It was moments, barely into the second lap, that the other cars caught up and passed him again. Actually passed him pretty quickly. Still staying low on the track, Kirk gradually pressed down on the accelerator. Never being on a track before without an experience of race speeds, he still thought his car seemed awfully slow. He thought maybe he could hold the accelerator to the floor and still not go as fast as the other cars not that he wanted to. He couldn’t be sure because he wasn’t about to floor it, yet. When the other cars weren’t close by, he thought he’d try running the track the way racers do.

He went from low in the turns to high up on the straightaways, because as they say, it makes the turns less tight and the cars can supposedly can maintain a higher speed. Kirk didn’t think his car had much more of a higher speed. One more lap and the other cars were catching him again, and so, the flag man gave him the dreaded blue with diagonal yellow stripe. Apparently even in practice, he epitomized the mocked turtle car. He wondered if the cars out there with him were the fast bunch or the slow bunch though he couldn’t really tell from experience or because they drove by so fast. After several humiliating laps, the white flag flew; everyone slowed down and the gate opened. He was the last to get off the track and on exiting, Kirk made sure he went over the hump at a diagonal so he didn’t scrape again.

Back at the pits, Don walked up to ask him how it went, but Mike didn’t have much to say. Kirk thought Mike was probably embarrassed to have a “team mate” like Kirk. Kirk told Don he needed a lot more practice track time to become halfway race capable.  He didn’t add that he was completely intimidated by the experience!

And by the way, Kirk peeked under his car and saw that the oil pan had scraped going onto the track but also saw that the frame rails had heavy, deep, shiny metal gouges so they had taken the brunt of impact relieving Kirk of possible future oil pan problems.

 It was one heck of a day, but Kirk couldn’t say he actually enjoyed it. In Kirk’s typical manner, he couldn’t define what he felt. One thing for certain, if he committed to racing every weekend at that slow rate it would be a very long summer.

Well, we already know Kirk was a responsible guy, so maybe he was already committed….