I just got this email from my dad. He came to watch FM for the first time this Labor Day. It was a surprise to see him and I thought you might care to read
his race report:
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IMPRESSIONS OF A CAR RACE
Last Monday, Labor Day, 2008, I attended my second car-racing event at the famous Infineon Raceway in Sonoma County. The first time I found myself at Infineon was the NASCAR event, which is held every year in June; I was there in 2000. That year, Jeff Gordon, in the last few laps, went on to win, probably for the third or fourth time in a row.
The reason for my second visit to Infineon, eight years later, was to watch my son Shawn race his Mazda, formula something, which I am uncertain of, along with about 32 or 33 other similar race cars. Arriving at the track at approximately 9:30 AM, I was astonished to find literally hundreds of work areas, side by side with various crews, friends and even family members all working and watching while last minute details were attended to before race time.
After parking, I walked down to the staging area where all cars were assigned precise positions before proceeding, two by two, to the starting area. Here, it was interesting to observe dozens of uniformed volunteers orchestrating the various fleets of racecars to their pre-start stations. "I've been doing this for fifteen years", one lady volunteer told me, "I don't have the money to have my own car so this is my way of being a part the pageantry for free". She was right, this was RACE DAY and along with the noisy public address system announcements, the exhilaration and anticipation was building moment by moment.
It's now 10:30 and here come the Mazda's, one by one; each directed to their prospective waiting point, Shawn's point is number 26. The race will start at exactly 10:50 and it will end at 11:20, only thirty minutes. After many weeks of dedicated preparation, the intense excitement of this race will all be over in half an hour, not a long time period but the camaraderie, emotional stimulation of fulfillment and satisfaction will bring drivers back again and again, year after year.
In order to race at Infineon, one needs to be properly suited and during the final minutes before the start, drivers check their gear, put on their helmets, gloves, and adjust their safety belting systems, all state of the art and all designed to prevent serious injury should an altercation occur. Finally, Shawn adjusts his miniature headphones in order to communicate during the race with his teammate, who, in this instance, is his sister. Everything is working and all is ready.
At exactly 10:48, the lead volunteer receives the lineup order, engines are started and he signals the drivers to immediately proceed in a systematic two by two approach to the starting line. Within two minutes the first two cars are at the line, the flag drops and the race is on! The intense roar of thirty something engines is deafening and in all of my life I have never seen a group of small race cars start a race at seemingly sixty miles an hour and after negotiating the first broad curve, achieve a velocity of twice that speed.
From my position in the grandstand, the cars temporarily disappear from view and suddenly without warning, a most amazing event happens, I begin to cry, the kind of momentary uncontrolled emotion that overwhelms one's body. There goes my handsome young son looking more like Jeff Gordon than Jeff Gordon, zooming along on what I can only imagine to be the ultimate, the highest of highs. How grateful I am at that moment that the race is only thirty minutes, "be safe, be safe" I whisper. The cars suddenly re-appear and I spot number 50, Shawn's white Mazda, cruising along somewhere in the middle of the fleet.
Composure regained, I am now caught up in the excitement of his position. The cars are almost blurred as they literally fly past the grandstand and it's difficult to spot the one car you are interested in. Unknown to me at this moment, Shawn is gunning to overtake one particular foe and somewhere, out of sight, either on a curve or the straightaway, he achieves his goal, slips around him and for the final remaining minutes maintains his position and passes under the checkered flag in second position. "Not bad" I say to myself, "not bad at all", congratulations Shawn! Later during the post-race get-together, where drivers discourse with one another, I am introduced to the winning driver. Apparently he has won the last twenty or so races and has the admiration and respect of everyone. On top of that he appeared to be top-notch guy.
On my solitary drive back home I had the opportunity to recount the events of the day. Pretty special in every way, I thought, but why the momentary emotions of the race start? Perhaps concern and apprehension that something could go wrong, after all, I've been in a similar situation a time or two crossing a vast ocean on a small boat. I guess one difference that I see in comparison, however, is traveling at 10 or 12 knots rather than 110 or 112 knots. Another possibility is that although Shawn and I are, at this time, geographically near to one another, we rarely spend time together because of each of our personal busyness and time constrains. The true answer may swirl a bit around the unknown but what I do know for certain, I loved seeing my son achieve and enjoy one of his passions and I would not have traded my time at this Labor Day car race for anything else!
Love, Dad
PS: If any of this gets out, I will vehemently deny it!
=====
-Shawn
=====
IMPRESSIONS OF A CAR RACE
Last Monday, Labor Day, 2008, I attended my second car-racing event at the famous Infineon Raceway in Sonoma County. The first time I found myself at Infineon was the NASCAR event, which is held every year in June; I was there in 2000. That year, Jeff Gordon, in the last few laps, went on to win, probably for the third or fourth time in a row.
The reason for my second visit to Infineon, eight years later, was to watch my son Shawn race his Mazda, formula something, which I am uncertain of, along with about 32 or 33 other similar race cars. Arriving at the track at approximately 9:30 AM, I was astonished to find literally hundreds of work areas, side by side with various crews, friends and even family members all working and watching while last minute details were attended to before race time.
After parking, I walked down to the staging area where all cars were assigned precise positions before proceeding, two by two, to the starting area. Here, it was interesting to observe dozens of uniformed volunteers orchestrating the various fleets of racecars to their pre-start stations. "I've been doing this for fifteen years", one lady volunteer told me, "I don't have the money to have my own car so this is my way of being a part the pageantry for free". She was right, this was RACE DAY and along with the noisy public address system announcements, the exhilaration and anticipation was building moment by moment.
It's now 10:30 and here come the Mazda's, one by one; each directed to their prospective waiting point, Shawn's point is number 26. The race will start at exactly 10:50 and it will end at 11:20, only thirty minutes. After many weeks of dedicated preparation, the intense excitement of this race will all be over in half an hour, not a long time period but the camaraderie, emotional stimulation of fulfillment and satisfaction will bring drivers back again and again, year after year.
In order to race at Infineon, one needs to be properly suited and during the final minutes before the start, drivers check their gear, put on their helmets, gloves, and adjust their safety belting systems, all state of the art and all designed to prevent serious injury should an altercation occur. Finally, Shawn adjusts his miniature headphones in order to communicate during the race with his teammate, who, in this instance, is his sister. Everything is working and all is ready.
At exactly 10:48, the lead volunteer receives the lineup order, engines are started and he signals the drivers to immediately proceed in a systematic two by two approach to the starting line. Within two minutes the first two cars are at the line, the flag drops and the race is on! The intense roar of thirty something engines is deafening and in all of my life I have never seen a group of small race cars start a race at seemingly sixty miles an hour and after negotiating the first broad curve, achieve a velocity of twice that speed.
From my position in the grandstand, the cars temporarily disappear from view and suddenly without warning, a most amazing event happens, I begin to cry, the kind of momentary uncontrolled emotion that overwhelms one's body. There goes my handsome young son looking more like Jeff Gordon than Jeff Gordon, zooming along on what I can only imagine to be the ultimate, the highest of highs. How grateful I am at that moment that the race is only thirty minutes, "be safe, be safe" I whisper. The cars suddenly re-appear and I spot number 50, Shawn's white Mazda, cruising along somewhere in the middle of the fleet.
Composure regained, I am now caught up in the excitement of his position. The cars are almost blurred as they literally fly past the grandstand and it's difficult to spot the one car you are interested in. Unknown to me at this moment, Shawn is gunning to overtake one particular foe and somewhere, out of sight, either on a curve or the straightaway, he achieves his goal, slips around him and for the final remaining minutes maintains his position and passes under the checkered flag in second position. "Not bad" I say to myself, "not bad at all", congratulations Shawn! Later during the post-race get-together, where drivers discourse with one another, I am introduced to the winning driver. Apparently he has won the last twenty or so races and has the admiration and respect of everyone. On top of that he appeared to be top-notch guy.
On my solitary drive back home I had the opportunity to recount the events of the day. Pretty special in every way, I thought, but why the momentary emotions of the race start? Perhaps concern and apprehension that something could go wrong, after all, I've been in a similar situation a time or two crossing a vast ocean on a small boat. I guess one difference that I see in comparison, however, is traveling at 10 or 12 knots rather than 110 or 112 knots. Another possibility is that although Shawn and I are, at this time, geographically near to one another, we rarely spend time together because of each of our personal busyness and time constrains. The true answer may swirl a bit around the unknown but what I do know for certain, I loved seeing my son achieve and enjoy one of his passions and I would not have traded my time at this Labor Day car race for anything else!
Love, Dad
PS: If any of this gets out, I will vehemently deny it!
=====
-Shawn
