For the most part, there were few problems during tech. Sure, a few owners or drivers got upset if their car did not pass the first time around, but they were in the minority. Most were able to correct any problems that had cropped up and were getting ready to race.
There was one car owner, however, who had to be sent home. This poor fellow's car was so far out of line on safety requirements that he never made it to the mechanical side. The rollcage was made out of galvanized tubing and the fuel cell was an old washing machine that had been sealed up with a rubber bladder in it. No one really wanted to break this guy's heart, so we called Frank on the radio and explained the situation. Frank came down and took him off to the side and explained to him that while he appreciated him coming to the race and the work that he had done to the car, he couldn't allow it on the track. Frank told him that he wanted him to run in the race, but not this year. He didn't want him to get hurt and told him to go home and get the car right for next year. The fellow was crushed as they pushed the car back to the garage, but everybody knew that it was the right thing to do.
The funniest thing that happened in tech involved a driver's uniform. I decided to not only check for the proper equipment, but also compliment the people who had new, quality gear and things like HANS Devices. Also, I would advise people about updating their equipment, such as replacing a 1995 helmet with a `98-or-better helmet. In one case, I told a driver's wife that the single-layer suit was fine for this race, but the driver should either get a double-layer suit or wear underwear. She looked at me indignantly and shouted, "He's wearing underwear!" Then she added, "He'll change it tomorrow, too, if he has to."
I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say to her while the rest of the place broke up. Eventually, we made her understand that we were talking about fire-retardant underwear.
As the start of the race neared, it was time for the safety crew to suit up in our own uniforms and head to pit road. What I was about to do during the race is the same thing that you see all of those NASCAR officials doing on pit road every race. As the cars came into the pits, I was to supervise the pit stop to make sure everything was done to the car and look for any infractions. If the car came in with a problem, I had to check for leaks, look at the suspension and sheetmetal, and make the call on whether it was safe for the car to return to the track. The only difference between us and the NASCAR officials is they have one official for every car, and there were four of us and nearly 70 cars at Kentucky Speedway.
From checking belts to inspecting fuel cells, to signing off on the inspection list, our good guy worked a full race day.
The starting field lined up on the track around the tri-oval, so we went to the track and, splitting the field up among us, went up to every driver to wish them luck, tell them to be careful, and remind them to cinch their belts and make sure that the window net was tight.
I have to admit, once the race started, I was extremely nervous. This wasn't like what I had done at Salem. Here, I was going to make calls that determined if a guy kept racing or was done for the night. Luckily for me, and probably for the racers, my section of pit road was relatively quiet during the race. Only a couple of my guys had problems that brought them to pit road, other than during the mandatory fuel stop at the halfway point. The fuel stop was interesting in itself, as all of the cars came down pit road at the same time. As the halfway point approached, I went down pit road reminding all of the teams that no one was allowed over the wall until all cars had stopped and the engines were shut off.
Of course, some teams elected not to listen, so there I was trying to scoot guys back over the wall. It was kind of like trying to stick your finger in the dike. I'd get one team over the wall and turn around and see two more going over. Thankfully, about this time, the last motor shut down and I let them go.
The refueling stop was interesting in itself. There was a wide variety of systems being used. Some teams had the same type of fueling setup that the NASCAR teams have, while other setups were a bit more primitive. The best one used an orange highway cone as a funnel, and it was a new one with not a mark on it. I went up to one crew member and asked him if the respective State Highway Patrol knew they had that cone. I forgot that in this job I was a figure of authority as the crew guy stammered for an answer, afraid that the team was going to get in trouble. Seeing his obvious discomfort, I just laughed, patted him on the back, and turned away.
For the rest of the race, my section of pit road was calm, with only the occasional crewman coming up and asking to check on the position of their car. Usually it was, "The scoreboard says we're eighth, but we should be sixth." So I would radio up to scoring and ask for a clarification and pass it on to the team.
The race ended and our first job after the checkered flag was to go to the head of pit road and make sure that the team members stayed away from the top 10 cars that were being held there for post-race inspection. Finally, it was all over and I headed to the car to get the uniform off, grab a beer, and relax. As I sat on the car's bumper sipping, I realized that I had just done something that I had never thought I would ever do. As I stood up, with my back aching and knees screaming after being on my feet and running around for so long, I thought to myself, Well, what's next?
We'll keep you posted.