Page 89 of The Legend
“Crazykid,” Tommy smiled. “Let’s go. You got a race to win and I got a hundred bucksridin’ on it.”
Heat lapswere done and now it was time, for the first time in years, to roll onto atrack with the legends of our time.
14.Attrition – Axel
Attrition –The rate at which cars drop out of a race. This is due to mechanical failuresor crashes.
Hopping onthe back of the 4-wheeler, Tommy drove us over to the driver introductions werethey introduced each of us one by one and then had us do a quick interview.Dads’ was the most comical and even got a standing ovation from the crowd asdid grandpa.
“It’sanyone’s race.” Dad said to the announcer with a smirk directed at the otherdrivers.
Dad smokedus in hot laps. He clearly had the cold temperatures pegged and Justin wasn’tfar behind him.
The trickwith the cooler temperatures was the tire pressure. The colder the air, themore horsepower you create but the car reacts entirely different in the coldresulting in lower tire pressures.
Tires mayseem tough when you think about it but they are extremely sensitive, especiallyin colder temperatures. Not only that, but Knoxville is notorious for shreddingtires with its high speeds. The faster the car goes, the more pressure put uponthe tires. More grip of course but also more pressure. The more pressure themore damage to the tire that is acting like a spring.
Sincetires are bias-constructed, air pressure determines the majority of the springrate within a tire. Tires, on a night like tonight, were just as important asthe setup.
Tommy andWillie were all over it for me. That was one of the vast differences between meand my dad. Where I relied on Tommy to change my setups based on my feedback,dad changed it himself. He knew sprint car setups better than he understood Cupcars.
Racingwith my dad, my Grandpa and some of the guys that helped me along the way wasenough to send me into some sort of hysteria but I held my own, no tears fellthat I like to say but I’d probably be lying.
I was upfront with my dad, Grandpa and Justin on the front row of the four abreast withCody and my buddies Shane and Easton behind us.
Dad revvedforward, taunting me as he paraded around 4-wide. I did the same when theflagman motioned for us to do hot-laps.
The raceitself was a wash really. You had guys like Justin and Tyler who dominated theearly part of the 100-lap feature they split into two segments and then you hadmy dad and grandpa who were dominating the final fifty. I wasn’t in the mixduring the second half, just hung back in the seventh for most of the race.
The trackwas shredding tires like a road grater. I couldn’t keep my right rear fromsliding all over the place. Dad and grandpa seemed to have no problems with itand flew around the half-mile track like it was no problem.
That wasuntil lap fourteen of the second-segment, a lap I would never forget. It was alap that changed everything.
They wererunning one and two with dad leading and grandpa right behind him. I had aclear view in front of me as I made it up to fifth and got around Easton.
Withoutwarning, grandpa shot to the high side in the sweeping corner of one and twoand then bounced off the wall coming out of two onto the straight stretch. Hecut down right in front of dad.
It wasn’tsomething grandpa would have done ordinarily. He wouldn’t make that move, onsomeone on the outside, at a place like Knoxville. But he did, and we watchedin horror as the wall bit back hard with dad on this inside of him, taking themboth out.
It allhappened in a split second. Before I could see what went wrong or what washappening through the dust, sprint cars were flipping and metal was everywhere.The flashing tree of red lights on the wall only confirmed my theories.
Theystopped us where we were. Tow trucks and ambulances blocked our view and I knewit was on purpose. Any time an accident happened of this nature, the safetycrews, sensing the destruction, blocked the view of the drivers and spectatorsby design.
There isan eerie feeling that comes over a track when tragedy strikes. Even before anynews release happens, drivers feel it in their bones. If you’ve been aroundracing long enough, you know when a wreck is fatal, you just do.
When thepace car brought us down past the wreck in turn two, I knew something wasn’tright just looking at it.
Grandpa’scar was up against the wall, the top wing was laying some twenty feet away.Another car, a driver out of Australia was smashed against him pinning the carto the wall.
Dad’s carwas upside down on the outside barrier, the rear axle assembly was broken offand lying on the other side of the wall in the grass field. Cars and parts werescattered everywhere.
Justinstopped his car alongside them, ignoring the safety crews trying to push himback away. He knocked one to the ground, ripping his gear away to getloose. Tommy, Willie, Spencer and Aiden who were in the pit grandstands, werealready down on the track hovered around their cars; motioning toward thesafety crew for help.
I couldn’tbreathe, I couldn’t speak. They had us start the cars and move forward to givethe ambulances better access.
My handswere trembling so violently when I passed by the carnage, the wheel was jerkingfrom side to side in my hands. I could feel the adrenaline radiating throughoutmy body, surging in my joints, hot and blinding all at once. I felt like I wasgoing to vomit any second.
I blinked,steadily trying to focus enough to catch a glimpse of the two of them, but theywere still inside the cars with safety official’s frantically working aroundthem. I had no idea if they were injured or not at this point, but the eeriefeelings wasn’t helping me and the way everyone was screaming around them, withno movement from my dad or grandpa, wasn’t reassuring.
