Just Call Me Chief

I'm at risk of being a meme here, the one that goes like:

No One:

Literally No One:

Me: So let me tell you about the racecar.

I'm also at risk of being a meme when I explain that this idea came from a friend asking about racing.  No, really, a friend.  They did!  I swear.  I was asked the other day what I actually DO when we go racing.  This isn't the first time I've gotten that question.  But at least this time, it wasn't condescending. (yeah, it happens. Not as often as it used to be)

There are many things, some of them very little but important.  I will start at the beginning.

I help load the trailer, which is a lot of work.  I hate helping load the racecar.  It takes visual acumen that I don't have.  Luckily for me, the family can help hook the truck up and load the racecar most times.

Once we're at the track, pits have to be set up. Think of this like camping.  We have a giant mat that goes on the ground so that goes first.  Then canopies that go the length of  the car trailer.  Unloading the racecar is easier than loading it for me so that's usually next.  Then the tools of the weekend: a big fan, air tank, generator, and worktable.

That's just outside of the trailer.

Inside, I set up the office.  If you know me in reals, it will be of zero surprise to you that it's highly organized and every need met.  Everything is labelled.  To be fair, Kevin is more OCD than me.

We have a laptop for the racecar that we download and manage data from after each race.  We have a log book to keep track of said data, and we use our phones for different data gathering (weather, altitude) and social media.  I set up an actual desk with everything we need, including chairs that don't leave the trailer.  Yes, we are that specific.  (And they're really nice chairs.)

  Breaking down is the reverse, of course, but there is some continual tear in the time/space continuum that makes it take twice as long. Unless it's raining, then our organization skills are out the window.

Once it's time to go racing, my job is to listen for the call because Kevin doesn't have that kind of attention span.  I don't either but we usually figure it out.  Once we're on standby, it's time to make sure that the car is safe and ready to go.  Fuel, proper amount of air in the tires, parachute ready, and everything fastened.  Kevin has to get in what I call his jammies, otherwise known as his firesuit.

Then once we're "in the lanes", which is exactly as it sounds, it's time to buckle Kevin in.  This is sometimes like wrestling a toddler because he tends to wait until he has to hurry. This makes me grit my teeth every.time.

I posted a photo a bit ago of him sitting in the car so you see the fire suit, the helmet, the c-collar, the gloves, the boots.  Next are the belts, which are five-point, not unlike a car seat - continuing with the toddlerness.  Then the window net which covers the driver's window.  One last check of the car and now it gets fun.

I will attempt to keep the racecar nerdery to a low level.  I am on the track before Kevin.  The reason is that I find a pathway for him to put his car onto.  This is not easy or obvious, like it might sound.  It actually requires a person to walk and see where the path is stickiest.  (think spilled jam on the floor that's been there a minute)

Then I pull him through and out of the water, which is a puddle  provided to help the tires spin.  The tires spin to make them hot and sticky.  So when it's time to go, all the power can be applied without the tires spinning.  Think flypaper.  When he rolls out toward me, we guesstimate that he's doing about 25 mph.  So: trust exercise.

I make sure he is squared up, which is exactly how it sounds, then I step back and video his pass.  I'm standing less than ten feet from the car at that point, one of my favorite places to be.  For the math/physics nerds: He travels the quarter mile (1320 feet) in 8.84 SECONDS and is doing 150 mph.  He travels the initial sixty-feet, from dead standstill to about 75 mph, in 1.22 seconds.

I am not a big cheerer or screamer.  If we do something cool, I'm usually pretty low-key. At most a fist bump to the Nephew.  This being said, there is a video where you can hear me say "There you go!" and giggle a little - to quote the Nephew "evilly".  I just feel like it's poor sportsmanship.  There are exceptions, of course, like setting a record or winning a championship.  Also, we're in Canada, the country of low-key.

Once we return to the trailer, the fan is put onto the engine, the hood removed, and anything that needs addressing gets worked on.  I know how to do stuff with the carburetor, gap spark plugs, and  some basic mechanical  tasks.  It has a parachute and that is my least favorite thing to do.  It's like folding a giant flag that's being held in by a giant spring.

This is where I get to get my Nerd on. We have a data acquisition system on the car that records data on a large SD card.  I run it through a program on the laptop so we can see what's happening with the car.  It will tell us if there is a problem or where any adjustments can be made.

It can also tell you nerdy stuff like the car pulls 2.12 G's at the hit of the throttle.  This is more than what you feel upon takeoff when you're in an airplane.  Yeah, it's ridiculous.

Then I log, with Kevin's help, all the information.  I document other information like the weather then update his social media.  All of this takes twice as long as the actual race.  I load the video onto the laptop because not only is it cool, we can gather information from that as well.

Last weekend I was actually REQUESTED to video a friend's car. I was surprised at how happy I was to do just that. And that he thought enough of my skill to ask.  Kevin also asked me to watch and video someone who shall remain nameless BROTHER  who is the only person who ever treats me like a girl at the racetrack.  "You can tell me better what's going on than he can" Kevin whispers.  Ha!

We have a friend who lives in the midwest who has helped us tune the car for the past five years or so. I message him information and he'll give suggestions or encouragement.  He's started calling me Crew Chief and it makes me laugh.  He treats me as a peer and I'll always love him for that.

I use our social media as a way to not only to update everyone but to let our engine builder, manufacturers/sponsors know of our progress.  Kevin feels awkward about it because he worries about bothering people or humblebragging but we've had some really good feedback and payoff by doing it.  Sorry not sorry for friends in real life. (hahaha)

So, it's not necessarily a relaxing weekend.  It's a job. Wrangling Kevin can be the most challenging sometimes.