Doc's Place: Racing

How To Watch A NASCAR Race On TV

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 09:27:05 GMT

Do not bother to watch the pre-race show unless you wish to know about the most recent penalties and the latest ways to ~~cheat~~ improve performance. This also avoids the redundant repetition of repetitive and multiply performed generic driver "interviews," which are actually commercials for the sponsors and repeated praise for the respective pit crews and team owners.

Do not tune the TV to the channel on which the race is being broadcast until 15 minutes following the beginning of the broadcast of the race. All you will "miss" is the usual obligatory generic Christian blessing, the Star Spangled Banner generally sung badly in a country twang, and a flyover by whatever warlike aircraft may be stationed nearby. In the most recent race I partially watched, it was four A-10 "Warthogs."

Watch the start (Boogity, Boogity, Boogity!) and about the first 20 laps to see how the field sorts itself out and the lap times of your favorite cars. They're testing at this point to find out both how the race setup of their car is working under current track conditions and to determine who they will really be racing in the last 20 laps.

At this point, you might seriously consider taking a nap. By doing this, you can avoid many commercials, blathering commentators, "The Big One," (a crash involving several cars which will be replayed at least a half-dozen times following the race,) the irritating little "Gopher Cam," superimposed advertising and streamed "information," cartoon graphics that appear over in-car camera shots, screen-in-screen shots, and the general advertisification of the whole NASCAR extravaganza. Believe it. There is always something distracting going at the top and bottom of the screen, the lower left corner, and frequently in the center. You might be interested in the pit stop coverage, often more interesting than the race itself, as occasionally some unfortunate team member gets his foot run over or is hit by an overzealous driver (the competition's or his own.) You clearly recognize that this is not racing coverage when you begin to prefer the commercials.

Try to determine when the last 20 laps will occur. It is then time to tune back in. This will be the real race, and is much the same as the last two minutes of a close basketball or football game. There is almost certain to be a caution and subsequent "race to the finish." Over 50% of the time, the excitement is heightened by a yellow flag condition occurring during the last few laps, resulting in a "green-white-checker," two lap sprint to the finish. The fan-demanded burnout by the winner is sometimes fun to watch. Recently the winning car was filled with so much tire smoke that the driver had no idea where he was going. It can also be entertaining to determine the "sponsor to words spoken ratio" uttered by the winning (and other) drivers during the post-race interviews. Then again, I used to time the blink rates of speakers at major hospital management meetings.

Am I mocking NASCAR? Yes and no. With the advent of the "Car of the Future," the imposition of so damn many rules and penalties with inconsistent application, and oversell by artificially enthusiastic announcers, commercials, advertisers, and the like, yes. I am mocking it. The drivers, crew, design teams, mechanical engineers, and owners, - No. They are professionals subjected to requirements beyond their direct control. But they choose to stay for the money.

When I heard the first "NASCAR Sprint Cup" ad, I actually became enthused. I was ill informed enough to believe that this might mean Sprint Car coverage, rather that the latest in a series of major sponsors (Winston Cup, Nextel Cup, etc.) NASCAR has come to closely resemble the International Race Of Champions (IROC,) which I dislike at least as much as restrictor plate racing, since its inception many years ago. IROC's premise was to prepare eight (or more) cars as exactly alike as possible and then put the top drivers from various types of racing in them and turn them loose on differing race courses. The first I remember used identically prepared Porsches, differing only in color. A writer of the day (Brock Yates maybe? in a magazine of the day, Car and Driver? Road and Track?) commented that the race resembled nothing so much as "a gaggle of mistreated jelly beans." That is today's NASCAR, as far as I am concerned.

Obviously I am biased. Even NHRA drag racing has become too commercialized and concentrates only on the top of the top classes. I would much rather watch a Saturday night dirt track race or the "little guy" classes of drag racing than almost any of the big money races of current interest to most fans. This is undoubtedly a longing for my own roots when I raced with no sponsor, no "team" except my friends, and a governing body that cared somewhat about driver and fan safety, but had a competition category for nearly anything that came to the strip. Those were the much simpler "Run what ya' brung" days. *sigh*

Peace, Doc

"Nostalgia is like an anesthetic; you experience no pain, only a beautiful haze. When you grow older, what matters is not the way it was, but the way you remember it." - Roger and Natalie Whittaker

Thwarting Speed Trap Technology: Then And Now.

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 22:13:26 GMT

The words "speed" and "limit" have never had a high associational value in my mind. I've written before that I tend to take them more as a suggestion than an absolute. Most recently, I have the ticket from Village of Elburn, IL, and the certificate from a safe driving course with a perfect score to substantiate that. (I just love to mention The Village of Elburn in my blogs. It has ranked me above any of their official sites, including the Mayor's Office, on Google searches in the past.) Being forced to pay money and take a course that I would rather have written simply irritates me. "Where were you in '62?" I was talking my way out of a ticket for 115 in a 70 zone and I had seen the trap and slowed by 15-20 mph.

In those days speed ~~traps~~ "enforcement zones" were common, but much less technically sophisticated than today's. The arresting officer had to be in court, and there were several ways to legitimately argue that the radar had not produced an accurate reading. It also amused some of my speed freak friends (that had a totally different meaning in those days) and me to torment the DeMotte, Indiana police when we knew they had carefully set up an "enforcement zone." Our methods were quite low tech, requiring only some cardboard, two sticks, and a can of paint. A simple sign stating "RADAR AHEAD" posted by the side of the road about a mile on either side of the trap was both satisfying and effective. Those were also the days of long, open country roads with little traffic and equally little reason not to double the speed "limit" suggestions.

Those roads were less than 50 miles from Chicago. Now, the urban sprawl with its fairy ring growth circle has made those roads, as well as the ones where I live in Illinois, unsafe at any speed. The technology has also changed. CB radio warnings, radar detectors and jammers, and numerous other measures and counter measures were tried.

Now, speed sensing cameras and laws that state that the camera is always right are in place. Like voting machines. Loaning one's car to someone who runs through an Illinois Tollway I-Pass lane without a transponder isn't a good idea. The picture that is automatically taken is of the license plate, and the owner is ticketed. Not being the driver is not an acceptable defense. That is written clearly on the ticket. No presumption of innocence, anymore. Smoky plastic covers and light diffracting license plate lenses were developed to foil the cameras and were quickly outlawed. About 1/3 of new cars have "black box" recorders, like aircraft, installed on them. As in many other aspects of our lives, privacy is a thing of the past. Clearly that can be used for good or evil and we are not in control of the process. That is why I smiled so broadly when I found this article:

Peace, Doc

“Speed provides the one genuinely modern pleasure.” - Aldous Huxley

Pop Quiz

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 03:59:35 GMT

I'm not concentrating well just now, certainly not well enough to put together a coherent post. In such a case, I think it might be fair to turn the effort over to my readers via a pop quiz dealing with topics likely of interest only to me.

What do Harley Earl and Zora Arkus Duntov have in common?
What is Royal Pontiac of Royal Oaks Michigan famous for?
What was the license plate number on John Milner's (Paul LeMat) 1932 Deuce Coupe in "American Graffiti?"
How is that number related to George Lucas?
What special meaning would the number 1320 have for me?
When am I ever going to be motivated enough to finish getting this apartment free of "junque?"

Two (maybe three) correct answers win.

Peace, Doc

From the 2006 animated movie "Cars":

Filmore: [looking at a stoplight blinking yellow] "I'm tellin' you, man, every third blink is slower."

Sarge: "The '60s weren't good to you, were they?"

Time Machine

Sat, 12 Jan 2008 05:08:14 GMT

Since my move, I have watched and re-watched the movie "American Graffiti" at least a dozen times. Probably more. The more I watch it, the more I see in it, and the more of myself I see in it. I want to be there again.

Now and Then

Long ago he lived

American Graffiti

Once was not enough

Peace, Doc

"Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door." - Saul Bellow

Magna cum Laude

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 03:13:57 GMT

Be It Known To All

that

Dr. Thomas A. Blood, Ph.D.

Has Attained a Perfect Score Upon Testing, Thus Successfully Completing All Post-Doctoral Requirements Necessary for Grudging Recognition as a Safe Driver, to the Great Consternation and Dismay of the State of Illinois, County of Kane, Village of Elburn.

Peace, Doc

“Just remember, once you're over the hill you begin to pick up speed.” - Arthur Schopenhauer (German Philosopher, 1788-1860)

Box of Gone US 30 - Part I

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 21:13:26 GMT

Once upon a time that seems much too long ago, but not all that far away, I was a semi-pro drag racer. I use the term semi-pro loosely because I won a little money on several occasions and I had no sponsor. The experience was really more about building something from the ground up, learning as I went, and once in a very occasional while, actually beating one of the real, sponsored pros. One had to solve problems as they came up (and hope that the really embarrassing ones didn't happen in front of too many people.)

My family first became suspicious when they noticed a 1928 Model A Ford sedan body sitting on the patio. This had the effect of serving them with notice that I might be up to something again. Combining parts from the sedan with the 1930 A Coupe that was soon purchased, eventually turned into a race car. I found out things like how to have a transverse Model A rear axle spring reconditioned and that a Chevy rear gear and axles would not even come close to withstanding the horsepower that was produced. I found that out by wrapping the rear axle housing around itself in front of the town policeman's house. I built a set of ladder bars that went from widely spaced anchor points on a 1963 Olds rear axle housing with the only positraction third member that would match up, a 1964 Pontiac, to a forward point about 2/3 the length of the car's boxed frame. As long as we used Chevy rear gears, we blew them up. Once this occurred on the starting line, the reaction being the car's rear jumping up about two feet, the coupe moving forward about four feet, and then being pushed off to the side so the oil-dry could be used. At least the clean up crew was impressed that I had blown up the whole housing into three pieces.

We went up through a series of gear combinations that went from a normal highway gear to a 4/11, to a 4/56 and kept blowing them up. When we finally got the Pontiac Posi unit in, we went to 5/38 Perfection rear gears and finally had the rear end problems solved. Other problems occurred. The top end speeds went down, but I was getting through the timing traps almost two full seconds quicker. The rear end is in a fixed place as is the business end of the transmission. The only way to tie the two together was by varying the length of the drive shaft. I will never forget how difficult it was to convince a welding and machine shop that I really did want a 13 inch drive shaft, measured from the frontmost point of the splined transmission connection into the Muncie box, back to the rearmost part of the Pontiac differential joint.

One also learned unique lessons like, "never start in third gear." I did that only once. I then built in a green dash light connected to a microswitch that would only light when I was in first gear. I also learned that if air can get into the car (through an uncovered windshield wiper hole) it will. Air under pressure will blow up the headliner, which you just sewed a few days before, like a balloon, pushing you down into the seat. You haven't a clue what is happening because you can't see much above eye level in a helmet and you are traveling along at about 140. I do remember steering with my left hand as I punched at the marshmallow over my head with my right. An early discovery of the usefulness of duct tape came as an "Aha!" moment until we could get the hole fixed properly.

We worked our way up from cheap rear wheels and recap slicks to American Mags with 12" wide M&H Racemaster "crinklewalls." I could afford these because my best friend Matt (and his family, really) had a wonderful relationship with one Mr. Sidney Immergluck, a diamond and fine jewelry wholesaler in downtown Chicago. This small town boy could not believe his eyes when he specified a carat weight and Mr. Immergluck poured about 50 clear whites out of a paper envelope onto his desk. I chose one and a solitaire mounting and fearfully awaited the price. It was nearly $350 less than I had expected. You gotta know that the next place Matt and I headed was to Eriksson's Speed Sport to buy the American's and the Racemasters. I got away with it for quite a while before Ex found out. That was a learning experience, too.

When we realized that even this combination was burning too much off the line, we started lowering the tire pressure, running tubes inside tubeless tires, and finally (to my absolute horror) had to drill holes all the way around the outer rims of the mags, inside and out, so that we could hold the tire in one place on the rim by twisting self tapping screws through the rims into the tire beads. That got us to a point where we could reduce the tire pressure down to 8-12 psi and not have them self-destruct. It put a much larger "footprint" on the track and had the added benefit of allowing the tire itself to expand at higher speed, effectively acting something like an overdrive gear. After we had that done, I became quite skilled at anticipating the lights by backing through them and then just barely creeping far enough forward to break the timing beam. That allowed me to release the clutch about 1/4 second sooner than the competition. After these changes, I cannot recall a single instance of any other machine, including fuel rails, beating us off the line. They would catch up rather quickly because the Coupe was so contra-aerodynamic, but we were learning.

This seems to be going on interminably and I've really only written about the back half of the car. It looks like there will be a Part II in the future. A couple pictures just to give you a feel for US 30 between 1962 and 1967 couldn't hurt, though. Well, it might bore you, but I'm having a great time with the memories.

Perhaps if you're all good boys and girls, I'll tell you about the front end, next time, and about the magick formula which predicted very accurately when I would win and when I would lose on any given Sundaaaay.

Peace, Doc

"The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good thing for the first time." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Bad Racing Sunday

Sun, 23 Apr 2006 18:41:55 GMT

I am certain that I have done something to anger the racing gods and that they are punishing me severely now. I cancelled the higher cable channels last year to save money because there was really only one channel out of the group that I watched. Annie watched many of them. When she had to leave, I thought I might as well cancel them because I was only getting a small return on my investment – the ability to watch certain races on the Speed Channel. I also cancelled any channel guides, newspaper TV listings, etc. I had little interest in TV, generally only watched news channels, and thought I could find online channel listings for other programming. I could watch the live timing, sector times, etc., on the F1 channel and that would be almost as good. This did not work out well. We are four races into the season and I have yet to see the internet version. To make this even more emotionally devastating, during the last F1 Gran Prix, I was chatting with someone who could hear it from the back yard.

The last time it worked was when we still had the Speed Channel, and could watch the race live and follow the statistics on the computer. Annie was an Indianapolis 500 Festival Queen in College and was an easy convert to F1 open wheel racing. We would awaken together to watch European races live at 5:00 a.m. or 6:00 a.m. The extra treat was specialty coffee which I made and Krispy Kreme donuts. Now that is a pleasant memory that I have substituted for a feeling of loss.

After six or seven attempts today to sign in to the Java timing applet, I finally made it in, only to have the computer tell me that this applet had been disabled. Re-enable, re-download applet, close and reopen all windows and it looks like it might work – almost. Download new java applet version and repeat most of the above. Finally, it worked and I was able to watch the charts for about the last six laps. At least Kimi Raikkonnen was not knocked out of the race in the first lap.

Oh well, I can at least watch the Nextel cup NASCAR race later in the day. I just checked the schedule. Last night? LAST NIGHT!!??

Rat poop! I will salvage something positive out of this yet. Matt Kenseth is leading the points standings. “That’s a good thing.” Grumpity, gampfingle, snafferfratz, bradfog!! There is, I suppose, a small possibility that I can find some buzzy little motocross race or people building motorcycles from scratch. Wait! I have not checked the drag racing schedule yet!

Hmm. About 45 minutes later, I have determined that there is no IRL or Champ Car race today. Both were yesterday. There is no NHRA drag racing (well, reruns.) Maybe there will be an IHRA race, and, if Comcast is to be believed, a rerun of the F1 race! We will see. If either of the latter two is true, I shall be significantly less cranky and may even pet my new used cat. Yes, a rescued cat, with pictures and cat naming contest coming soon.

Peace, Doc

Doc's First Auto Accident

Wed, 22 Feb 2006 04:02:32 GMT

Listen my readers and you shall hear my tale of overconfidence and understeer. A few months after I had gotten my Indiana drivers’ license, I had my first encounter with the vagaries and unpredictability of conditions about which we had been warned in our drivers’ training class.

Those included the little surprises like the funeral procession Matt almost ran over, being caught doing 120 mph during a night driving “experience,” and the like. It would help you to know that the section of the class we were in all had been driving anything from racing go-karts to tractors to motorbikes before we ever took the course. A local auto dealer loaned the training vehicles to the school and the one that we were so ecstatic to learn on was a special order, “stripped” 1963 Plymouth 383 V-8 with stick transmission, and “3 deuces.” This was not the average driver’s training car by any stretch of the imagination and was only loaned because the man for whom it was ordered could not afford it when it arrived. It was a 16 year-olds’ dream and the white paint often matched the color of the instructors face. I have no idea why, but he seemed to have a belief that he would live through the class and let us do pretty much what we wanted while offering a quiet suggestion or a shriek, now and then. The only thing he never admitted understanding was why we could not seem to learn to engage the clutch gently to start smoothly rather than doing a burnout. Only in a tiny country town would this have been possible!

Having learned the finer points of parallel parking and passed the course, the fools turned us loose on an unsuspecting world unsupervised. My first accident occurred only a few months after getting my license. I understand why they are called accidents. I certainly never would have planned it that way. On this particular morning, I was out early driving my folks’ Plymouth, determining the fastest possible speed at which certain corners and curves in the area could be taken. Here enters one of those little unexpected eventualities that made driving exciting. With no prior notice to me, the Porter County Highway Department had put fresh gravel down on an asphalt corner. No, to this day I do not know why they found it necessary to do that. The result, however, was finding myself in a full, four wheel drift as I hit the gravel about 35 mph faster than a sensible person would. I tried to do what I could to make the best of a bad situation and, to my credit, I missed both the telephone pole and the stop sign and the right side of the car was undamaged. There was the matter of the left side, however. I had driven into a ditch and was assisted in draining inertia from the vehicle by hitting fence posts; seven to be exact. It did not occur to me to call the police or to remain at the scene. I was simply scared witless about what my folks were going to do to me and drove home to tell them and “take my medicine.” Of course I was grounded and had to help pay for the repairs made on the car but the part of this event that makes it still stand out in my mind didn’t occur until late afternoon. The telephone rang and Pop answered. I could not hear exactly what was being said but he certainly did not appear pleased.

I learned that fences are put there, at least in farm country, for a reason. In breaking seven posts down, I had taken away the reason for the caller’s cattle to remain in their pasture. To the cattle involved, the grass was greener in the graveyard on the other side of the road. After further discussion with my folks, it was agreed that an apology and an offer to work off damage was due the farmer. I did indeed apologize and completely understood the logic of his disturbance at having to return most of his herd from the cemetery to their pasture. I learned a great lesson that day. I have never let a cow into a cemetery since.

Peace, Doc

Formula 1

Sun, 19 Jun 2005 19:00:26 GMT

This post has absolutely nothing to do with psychology, tips, or the proposed syllabus. The US F1 Gran Prix in Indianapolis is being run by only six (6) cars, all running Bridgestone tires. All other cars, running Michelin tires pulled out of the race after the warmup lap. The FIA governing body has done the stupidest thing since 1982 and the good Doc is definitely NOT amused or peaceful at the moment!

The fans present started leaving the course before lap 10 and I am switching to NASCAR.