11 October, 2013

ALMS Laguna Seca: It Takes A Village to Race a Car

There's a saying that "It takes a village to raise a child" — that a child is the product of the entire community in which she was raised. Something similar is true of car racing (and especially endurance racing).

What wins races isn't a driver, or a car, or a mechanic, or a designer. It's a team that manages to effectively combine those aspects plus a variety of others. It's a group of folks who know how to work together to make the most of the pieces at their disposal. But the village in this case is more than the team; it's the community that supports the team and enables it to flourish. The community is what enables the team to execute consistently.

So while there are certainly mechanical and technological aspects to racing — you can't win consistently without a great car — there's also a significant human aspect — you also can't win consistently without a great team and a supportive community.
Many of the steps that go into winning a race happen before the car even makes it onto a racetrack. There are months or years of development (engine, suspension, chassis, aero, cooling, etc.), along with significant amounts of tuning and refinement. Much like a growing child, a race car carries forward the fingerprints of all the people who helped it reach the point of maturity, regardless how slight the influence.

Then there's tuning and race prep that happens once the car actually gets to a track, starting at least a few days before each race. The goal of that process is to tailor the car to the specific requirements of that race. For instance, a bumpy track might favor a softer suspension. A particularly high ambient temperature might require a less-aggressive engine tuning. A car with less downforce might do better on a track with lots of high-speed sections and sweeping corners.

Above, team members of the #23 Team West/Alex Job Racing Ferrari F458 Italia perform some last-minute race prep a half-hour before reporting to the Laguna Seca track entrance.
And then once the race starts, it's up to a different team (though often with overlapping individuals) to actually keep the car running well and racing well. How long can the car last between fuel stops? Can the driver hold off an oncoming competitor without using too much fuel or putting too much wear on the tires? Should the car carry more fuel, or carry less fuel (less weight) and plan on more pit stops? A race team includes people who plan the race strategy, and others (including the drivers) who execute that strategy.

In the photo, the #56 Team RLL BMW Z4 GTE pit crew watches as the driver takes off after a tire/fuel stop.
Of course, a team is more than a set of individuals who can work well together. At times it's a support structure, a group of people who can share the burden when things go poorly, and who can help keep you motivated when there are tough roads ahead. And often the community itself forms part of that support structure — they celebrate with you in times of joy, and they endure (and sometimes grieve) with you during times of hardship.

Above, a member of the Muscle Milk Pickett Racing team greets family and friends after the team's #6 HPD ARX-03a car finished in the overall lead after four hours of racing.
Then there are the fans. While they do help to finance the teams, venues, and events; they are, most importantly, advocates of motorsport to people who aren't yet part of the motorsport community. They spread the love of the sport, and they can help cultivate a friend's passing interest into a lifelong passion.

Above, fans watch the race from near the Corkscrew, which is the iconic segment of the Laguna Seca racetrack, and, really, one of the most well-known sections of any racetrack, anywhere in the world.
Which brings us to heritage. Just like that child who grows up to help guide the next generation, the "village" of motorsports is also self-sustaining: the teams are points of interest that draw newcomers into the motorsports community, and when the teams need new members, they draw from that same community of impassioned friends, fans, and family.

Maybe it's someone who has accomplishments under her belt, but is looking for the next step. Or maybe it's someone who's watched races every weekend, but is finally getting his own chance in the sun. Whatever the case, the village helps to keep each team racing toward the horizon.
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02 October, 2013

I need your help.

Howdy, y'all. I recently discovered a service called Patreon, and I've decided to give it a shot. Patreon allows anyone to pledge any amount of money (say, a dollar) per blog post that I publish. It also gives me a venue to interact directly with the people who are supporting my work, while still allowing me to keep the blog ad-free and freely accessible for anyone to enjoy. So if you like my blog posts and would like to see them more frequently, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

Why now? This blog has always been a labor of love. That said, my life is pretty full now, and I've noticed that I haven't been spending as much time writing as I'd like. But even so, it also felt difficult to prioritize the blog over the things that had come to occupy my time. In short, I've had to consider more closely how I spend my time and what I get out of that time.

How does Patreon help? For the blog, I have two primary goals. First and foremost, I want emotional satisfaction. I want to pour my heart into this thing, and get feedback that you appreciate what I'm doing. I'd also like for you to feel empowered to take some control over the content that I publish. Which posts should I work on first? Should I do another poem? How quickly do I need to publish about a current event for it to be useful? Patreon gives me a mechanism to identify some of the people who are willing to invest in the work that I'm doing, and at the same time gives me a way to offer them some ownership of the blog itself. That's a win-win in my book.

My second main goal is to have the blog contribute toward my photo business. Ideally, when I make investments of time, money, and energy into photography, I'd like to see a return that I can then reinvest in my photography. I'd like to be able to fix equipment and periodically purchase new equipment, both of which will help me do a better job of capturing and telling the stories that I witness.

At this point, returns from the blog have been few and far between, which sometimes makes it difficult for me to choose to invest the 2+ days of effort that go into each and every blog post (including this one). Patreon changes that equation by providing some assurance that I'll have a monetary return on the time I commit to blogging. In other words, if broken equipment keeps me from shooting, I can work toward repairing the gear by continuing to write high-quality blog posts. That's a pretty exciting prospect.

Why Patreon? I really dislike ads, and I want to share my work with minimal restrictions. If someone can't afford to get past a paywall or buy a subscription, I still want that person to be able to see and enjoy my work. L aptly described Patreon as creating an NPR-like model, where sponsors offer their assistance to maintain a free resource for the public good.

Why me? By becoming my Patron on Patreon, you can have a direct impact on the frequency, quality, and audacity of my blog posts. This is your opportunity to put your stamp on this blog.

Moreover, you'll have an opportunity to see a sample of photos I take, regardless of whether they ever make it onto the blog. To put this in perspective, in 2012 alone there were at least 50 shoots that never saw the light of day. So far this year, there've been at least 30. Do you want to see what they were? Do you want to pick the which photos deserve to get posted? This is your chance.

Any other questions? If you have any other questions, definitely leave me a comment on the blog, on G+, or on Facebook. As always, I will answer every question and respond to every bit of feedback that I receive. Thank you for reading this far, and I hope you decide to join me on this journey.

20 September, 2013

It wasn't supposed to end this way… again…

Third race, third DNF. *sigh*. At least this time we've got some idea of how to keep this from happening the next time around. But hey, let's start from the beginning…
Thursday night, we were in high spirits. The car was in good shape, the radios were working for the first time ever, and we were ready to rock and roll. After our usual trip to "tacos," I hopped in the driver's seat to roll the car up on the trailer. That's when we hit our first snag. And by "we," I mean the car, and by "snag," I mean that the car didn't have enough clearance to avoid crushing the side-exit exhaust pipe against the leading edge of the trailer. So what was once a 3" pipe now had less exhaust capacity than the original Beetle. Great.
After lots of post-arrival craziness with three pry bars and a punch set, we got the exhaust pipe somewhat de-mangled. Saturday morning, the car took the green flag and was running pretty well; huzzah! All four of the drivers got some seat time before the car encountered… uhh… phantom transmission syndrome. Basically, an important bolt disappeared, and a different important bolt started backing itself out, at which point the transmission started separating itself from the engine. Oops. Completely fixable, though. We fixed everything up, took it for a test spin, and waited for Sunday's racing to begin.
I woke up shivering at 4am Sunday morning after being misled by an abnormally-sweltering Friday night at the track. As I walked to my car to get my sleeping bag, I noticed some faint light silhouetting the Turn 5 flagger station. Ever the impulsive photographer, I pulled out my D7100 and my handy mini-tripod and took some pictures, finally ending up with an 8-second exposure. I already knew this from the 25 Hour race, but Thunderhill is amazing at night.
In the morning, we discovered that our engine was broken. Whoops. And so our race ended unexpectedly, without any particular incident worthy of finger-pointing. Initial diagnosis was a broken oil pump that stopped working "at some point." Well, that was abrupt.