Qualification Recap/Race Predictions - 2012

That was perhaps the least suspenseful Bump Day in recent history and maybe of all time. Oh welps, it was a beeyootiful weekend and I finally got to see the new cars in person. I must agree with nearly all accounts of them looking better in person than on TV. I'm also looking forward to the first laps in 500 race conditions with the new chassis. 


When comparing my previous post's predictions with the actual outcomes, I'm delighted to announce a tripling of accuracy from a year ago by correctly predicting 3 of the 33 drivers in their qualified position. Messrs Power, Bell, and Cunningham all spot-frickin'-on! Whoopty-do. Charlie Kimball's possible shuffle to the back of the field pending the outcome of repairs to the primary 83, however, could also shuffle my accuracy.  Yes, a whopping .0909 accuracy rating for me gives me the slightest hope for predicting the winner.


Now excitement shifts into top gear, for raceday is nearly upon us and I for one cannot wait to see what this ol' Speedway is going to give us this year... Last year's race prediction wasn't far off (if you squint) and given the fact that something out-of-the-already-special norm ALWAYS happens on years that end with 2, 6, or 7, I again foresee this race being one for the ages...


"Are you serious?", you ask. "You can't just have AH-MAZING every year!" 
Fair enough, but tradition and history have their way perhaps nowhere else more than at IMS, sooooo...


Ever the glutton for punishment, I'm not gonna just pick a winner, but a Top 10.

Penske's triple threat will prove to be too much for the rest of the field to handle this day and the continent of Australia erupts in wild celebration as an Aussie finally gets his mug welded to the Borg-Warner Trophy. 


Greg Norman and Vern Schuppan slug a beer and weep with the most bittersweet joy you can imagine. 

Willy P to send OZs into raptures

However, it shan't be pole-sitter Briscoe but Will Power winning his first 500 and Roger Penske's 273rd Indy 500. "Not a real surprise", you say? How about this, he comes from a lap down due to an early race Pit Road penalty (yet again), recovers and covers the field with the most superb and determined drives in the 2nd half of the race since Jaques Villenueve in 1995. It will also come at the expense of dominant teammate Castroneves stumbling late (tripped up by the ever-fickle racing gods perhaps), with his 4th win all but assured.


Marco Andretti 2nd (again), Dixon finishes 3rd, Hunter-Reay 4th, Bell 5th, Briscoe 6th, Kanaan 7th, Franchitti 8th, Rahal 9th, and Newgarden takes 10th and Rookie-of-the-Year voting.  


That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  Think I'm nuts and want to tell me so?  Please do. There's an old joke that goes something like... "I can tell you're crazy because, in those shorts you're wearing, I can clearly see your...  ANNNYWAYYYY, Leave a comment below.


Enjoy your race weekend (I know I plan to), and we'll chat again on the other side of this 96th Indianapolis 500!

Indianapolis 500 Gettin' Serious Time - 2012 (aka Cut-and-Paste Edition)

The rapidly approaching weekend means one thing and one thing only to me.  Gone are concerns for the condition of my lawn or the tidyness of my backyard from kids' toys or the amount of items crossed of my 'to do' list at home... it's qualifying weekend at Indy.

In the past, I've been tuned to some device to hear the qualifying events as they occur. This year, my family and I will attend Pole Day and despite 25 races over 33 years, I'm getting quite excited as I type. Banzai runs for myself and for all the drivers at IMS tomorrow. I plan to also catch as many of you as possible while I'm there.

Having said that, it is now time to make my qualifying predictions, in order, as I've done the previous two years. As we know there are precisely 33 entrants with motors that have tested. Will there even be any bumping? Who knows - it's Indy and it's May and nothing is over until it's over. 

I will guarantee you one thing; this list will be wrong, but such is the life of a 'seer of sooth, sayer of all'.

The PEAK Performance Polesitter: A Sandbaggers Delight - I'm going away from the Fast Friday beasts of Andretti Autosport and going with the suspiciously quiet Penske stable.  By a whisker this year for the pole... Helio Castroneves.
Pole Speed: 227.383

The Top 9: 
Row 1 - Castroneves, Andretti, Dixon, 
Row 2 - Hunter-Reay, Power, Hinchcliffe
Row 3 - Franchitti, Hildebrand, Briscoe

Mid-table Obscurity (18):
Row 4 - Kanaan, Beatriz, Newgarden
Row 5 - Carpenter, Rahal, Kimball
Row 6 - Viso, Sato, Saavedra,
Row 7 - Conway, Bell,Wilson, 
Row 8 - Jakes, Clauson, Pagenaud, 
Row 9 - Tagliani, Cunningham, Barrichello 

Danger Drives (6):
Row 10 - Servia, Jourdain, Bourdais, 
Row 11 - Legge, Alesi, DeSilvestro

____________ Bump Line _______________
Just missing out on this year's fun will be...
Only those who haven't driven to date.

I make these predictions just minutes after the conclusion of Fast Friday practice and prior to the Pole Day Qualifying draw. As always my caveat for predictions is that any mid-table or lower driver forced into a backup car (due to practice crash or what-have-you, will likely move them down a group. In the immortal words of 80s rockers Asia, only time will tell...

DZ's Davidsonian-Rambling Trip Memories... 2004 - Act III: Fin.

(CONTINUED FROM PART 2)

...I used every bit of personal soft good to insulate my head from sound, returning to whatever form of rest I could muster...

The next sound I remember hearing was the pitter of a merciful light rain on the tent. I noticed a more balmy temperature as well and settled my mind back to sleep. Waking with the traditional BOOM of the 5am gate-opening shells, we also continued to relax as the rain was also pittering away. I had warned the lads of the impending alarm and we lounged further into the AM.

Once I noted a rather significant presence of daylight, I was surprised to find we had slept to  just a tick before 9AM.  9AM??!! Recognizing the rain had stopped, I bolted up and out of the tent, fearing we were about to need a mad dash just to make it through Gate 6 and into our seats, likely missing much of the beloved pomp and circumstance.

Hearing via the WIBC radio coverage that the morning track schedule was delayed approximately 2 hours settled me into thinking about getting to some breakfast, water, and Acetaminophen into the system pronto. The others rose as well and quickly we fired up the mini gas-grill and polished off a hearty breakfast, secured the belongings and got ready for the Greatest Spectacle In Racing. 

Short of recapping the race, it was certainly memorable and the lads got to see a classic race start build-up. Enthusiasm was short-lived however as a shower came again around Lap 27 and the 2-hour red flag seriously hampered the early momentum. Fortunately, we had PLENTY of beer for just such an occasion. Reliving the previous day' events and we were happy to have the racing resume with Buddy Rice, Sam Hornish, and Dan Wheldon all hanging the top 3, but a crash and yellow and impending pits stops to be made for fuel, another ominous-looking storm approaching made the final strategies quite frantic. Seemingly there were lead changes every lap from 165 on and the thrill of the show was equaled only by the doom-like thrill of weather we faced to the west.

Buddy Rice was leading when heavy rains and lightning came crashing down for the final time of the race and the leader was declared the winner. Oh, "and by the way", it came across the PA system, "please DEPART THE STANDS IMMEDIATELY - THERE ARE TORNADOES IN THE AREA!" Ever-closer lightning strikes made us scurry from the aluminum Pit Road Terrace stands and into a concrete souvenir garage for safety. Thankfully the weather radar was on the TV but it didn't give us a very favorble overview. We passed another hour buying IMS knick-knacks for the loved ones at home (assuming we'd get to see them again), and trying to determine our next move.

The rain let up slightly and lightning seemed to subside. Some reports placed tornadoes both south and west of the Speedway area.  We decided to make our dash from the concrete cover, get wet perhaps, and dash across Georgetown into our Lot 2 confines to break down camp before doomsday struck. We were teased with a decent let-up of rain and headed for camp. About three-quarters of the way back into our run to camp, we could see the wall of rain approaching from the southwest... Time was most certainly our enemy.

The wisdom of the apparent early departure of the Wisconsin boys seemed more evident.  The air cooled as we knocked down soaked camp chairs, and began loading the van. The sweet smell of rain signaled the next wave approaching and we began to thrash violently to get the tents back to packed. Green-gray clouds enveloped us on all sides.  We knew we were losing this race so the mashing and tossing in of anything remaining was greeted with large and very cold drops, pelting us as we ambled into the van and began our navigation away from Lot 2 and hopefully away from danger.

Clearing IMS property, we asked a police officer a recommendation for evading possible tornadoes with surprisingly little assistance. We made a path to the north and west which appeared the next clearest direction, finally winding through neighborhoods to Lafayette Road area and out to 465. We cleared the Marion county North line and were felt as sense of comfort as the sky looked slightly better to the north.  Only as far as Kokomo did we make it before the trailing wall of rain hit us again and we parked at the Hardee's for some shelter and food (and mainly for our driver whose white knuckles were evident for all to see). 

We set out North again with a much clearer vision behind and west of us. The passengers watched in disbelief as the east and south view still contained some very angry-looking skies. We later found out we had missed the Indy tornadoes by being a bit north of the danger but, passed only minutes behind the ones which hit east of Noblesville.  By stopping in Kokomo, we also missed driving right into the second wave that bounced around Lafayette and again hit near Peru, Indiana, approximately 20 minutes north of where we stopped.  Here are the tornado tracks of that day: 

Needless to say we had a few beers remaining and those of us not driving all imbibed a 'bracer' for our final leg home. Our exit to Indiana 24 East found no lights at all (highway or otherwise) in Peru, scattered chunks of fiberglass insulation and siding debris in areas. We all felt as if we just missed something that would've ruined our trip in a major way. Darkness and more reasonable calm settled in the final hour's drive home and we were all thankful to arrive back home again in Goshen, Indiana, tired, thrilled, and a bit frazzled. Our mission to retrieve all personal effects and gear was graciously delayed to Monday. 

I don't recall getting into bed that night. I don't recall what I said to my wife or family either. As much as I wanted to watch the replay of the race, my mind and body let slip that day, May 30, 2004, with great memories and energy spent. 

I vowed to be content with the future decision these guys may make if they either never-ever wanted to try that trip again or if they dared to once again go with me to the 500.

They most certainly did.

DZ's Davidsonian-Rambling Trip Memories... 2004 - Part Deux.

(CONTINUED FROM PART 1)

...joy turned to shock as we discovered.. the beer's nearly ALL GONE!!


Suddenly everything became difficult. Indecision reigned. The heat haze of 90-degree, May 29, seemed to choke our beer and meat-addled brains' ability to comprehend reality. The steamy grass and gravel confines of Lot 2 had suddenly become a desperate place tinged with the smell of panic. Our ranks constricted into a more defensive posture. Even the slightest of issues so easily dispatched just minutes earlier, became cause for alarm. Gravel dust and sweat were mating with abandon on my skin. There are GRASS BLADES AND DIRT IN THE ICE SLURRY!! 


This trip will NOT end like this. We have the entire Indianapolis-fuckin'-500 tomorrow. The time to overcome obstacles was now. First up, each man took a quick inventory of beverages consumed. Preliminary calculations went beyond initial comprehension. In times like this it's almost as if the brain understands it is no longer functioning at 100 percent, furiously ignores the messages and signals from the most-affected area, and allows for basic logic and math calculations to be performed. 


Through some well-thought-out teamwork, we were able to arrange a party for supplies.  When they returned with two cases to last the remaining 20 hours, we were surprised with the extended bonus of cheap cigars and magazines whose theme seemed to revolve around a poorly-lit, yet vaguely art-like appreciation for the female form, complete with pages and pages of telecommunication ads, all in a foreign language that appeared to be Russian. I took this as a sign that things would be OK. For what remained of the now-scant daylight hours, we set about a final straightening of the camp site.


A sense of order restored, we settled back into our chairs, reconvening around our re-stocked cooler and makeshift soft-sided pictorial gallery.  We offered thanks for the fresh beer and a return to a more serene, seated conversation as our Wisconsin neighbors set about foraging for local food and investigating the rising nightlife on Georgetown Road.


Those moments, huddled as a small group far away from the trials and tribulations of everyday life, I believe gave us a better appreciation for the value of our adventure, comradeship, and even our friendships. Daylight and activity waned. Consumer-level fireworks popped and sparkled in the distance.  Music from other camps wafted as we noticed the campground nearing capacity. Sights were now beginning to affix on the remaining 20 hours that lay ahead.


Drinking light lagers continuously for extended periods of time prior to age 40 isn't terribly difficult nor is very complicated. It is almost cleansing in fact. It was easy for us to see why, as men age, they seem to increasingly treasure times like these - they afford us a respite and time for reflection. My race rookies and I even indulged in some poor-tasting cigars, salty snacks, and Indy 500 race conversation. As 1am beckoned and final arrangements made for tent-sleep, we all also settled the final tabs with our bladders and retreated to our modest nylon shelters, satisfied that we sucked the marrow of that Saturday with appropriate vigor. 


Regardless of how much we choose to believe the illusion of how evolved or civilized we are, the body and brain has it's millenia-old systems of well-groomed self-preservation if we dare to listen. 


I find mine becomes apparent only when asleep. This system was activated with a rustling of grass and snickers that were much too close to our defensively-placed tents near the vehicle and back of our lot. Ears pricked up and alerted all senses to an ominous shadow on the tent's far side, but it was already too late. Our playful neighbors had pulled a trump card from their camper and decided that we would be the victims. 


At approximately 3:11am local Indiana time, we were quite rudely awakened to a standard-issue crowd bullhorn just 12 inches from our tent and one of the Wisconsin boys singing some currently popular song and also imploring us to come out and play some more. We all remained motionless and through visual communication realized we had been had. Our first strategy was to ignore it and play 'possum even though no person would ever assume sleep could be maintained though a bullhorn's call. The strategy worked for a couple of minutes but the bullhorn was then set on the tent sidewall and the taunt continued.


At approximately 3:14am local time, nearby female voices giggling with our neighbor boys implored them to stop as the joke was clearly over and now were only antagonizing us. The one of us closest to that tent wall only later admitted it was only through both great fatigue and restraint that he didn't violently send the bullhorn back through the jokester's incisors and canines...


An uneasy calm returned to camp as the voices again trailed away whether back into the night or just into the camper, I don't know. Knowing the day's physical expenditure and requirements of the next day, I used every bit of personal soft good to insulate my head from sound, returning to whatever form of rest I could muster...

(PART 3 - THE FINAL 12 HOURS, TO COME)

DZ's Davidsonian-Rambling 500 Trip Memories... 2004: A New Beginning

For each of the estimated 375,000 race visitors who descend upon Speedway, Indiana any given Memorial Day weekend, I would conservatively estimate there MUST be no less than 5 stories to tell. When you extrapolate that, Rainman, you get 1 million, 875 thousand some odd stories... EVERY YEAR. 

Granted at least half of those fall into the 'too disturbing to recall/brain bleach' category or tied to the 'sworn to secrecy' pact, never to reach beyond that inner circle of mind-altered/beer-infused/traumatic-event bonded few who witnessed it. It's akin to being my generation's D-Day, storming the flatlands of central Indiana and invading the fortress known as IMS. Some stories that emerge from an event as such must remain sacred, others may be told. God, I love the 500.

But I digress. This recollection comes from the minority of stories which actually can be told publicly, and from a year which I introduced my current generation of friends to the glories of the Indy 500 - 2004.

Firstly, a slight bit of background I've not yet discussed on this blog...

(TANGENTIAL RAMBLE DELETED)

...so in 2004, and looking for a fresh, more enthusiastic bunch along, it was decided that 3 neighbor/husband/recent-father/friends (and newly minted poker buddies) with reserved seats and a two-day tent camping pass in Lot 2, would head to Indy at dawn on Saturday of the 2004 race.

A minivan replete with two tents, camp chairs, basic charcoal grilling gear, a (unbeknownst to me) huge Jack Stack Freight House Deluxe package of glorious (overnighted on dry ice) barbequed meats and trimmings, modest personal effects, and two large coolers filled with four cases of beer and ice. Certainly more than enough for 4 chaps for 36 hours or so...

...OR SO we thought.

I waited patiently for the a quieter moment at the first of seven county lines we'd cross during our three-hour drive to reach into my sixer-cooler and crack a beer. I did it with no warning or celebration, more just to signal intent for this day. Although I had broken beer with these guys before, this would be our first road trip without spouses or kids or much of any care at all...  >PSSHHhhrrrrrrrTK< ...the silence for the following seconds seemed a bit too long for my liking and was actually concerned that I had maybe overshot my targeted enthusiasm.  Silence was broken when the question came.

"Did you just crack a beer?"   ...  "Yes."   ...   "Alright then, gimme one too."

I suspected right then we had the makings of a winner. Ever-cautiously though, I explained it away by stating that my calculations had us back home in less than 36 hours remaining so every moment needed to be savored. It was agreed. The minivan's cruise control received a bumping-up of 4 mph. Radars be damned.

Six counties later, upon our arrival to Lot 2, we were eyeballed at the gate, asked to affix the camp sticker to the glass of the minivan, and directed to the lowest, muddiest spot to tent camp in the whole of the place. We humbly asked, as tent-campers, if we can be assigned a replacement spot. DENIED by our yellow-clad lot official. This amateur geologist assured us it would be dry before evening. The entire camp lot was half-empty. Rather than argue, we allowed this over-zealous ATV-jockey to hastily depart and we then found a much more suitable locale on our own beside a very demure and friendly-appearing couple with a towable camper in a small clearing of about five spaces. They were nice enough and quite sympathetic to our original placement story.

Our enthusiasm grew as the sun and temperature rose ever-higher that day. After the essential tents and grill were set, a ring of four camp chairs surrounding a large blue and white cooler full of beer was established in the direct sunlight of this latest of May Saturdays. Much commiserating, laughing, and ever-deepening pond of empty aluminum cans later, our serenity was broken again by the now harried yellow-clad jockey directing a 1-800-RENT-RVS camper to park beside us, again with nothing for tens of yards around. 

After The Wizard of Lot sped off again, and seeing the relative proximity of park and our washers and cornhole pitches, the driver came around and offered us the deal of the weekend - in exchange for their moving a half space away from us, we would share the wasted space between us (nearly a full slot) for all of our mirth and merriment. "DEAL!", I said to Mike from Wisconsin. Rapidly all of our gear became wider as did our neighborly stature. The camper, now parked with a sense of permanence, spat out four fresh-faced college-age lads, the fourth of whom was of larger stature than the others. His mission was clear - with beer bong in hand and already loaded, he ambled down the steps, set his feet to the ground, almost Armstrong-like, and hoisted the classic funnel tube engulfing the golden lager in three seconds. Cheers erupted. Spirits soared.

Duly impressed and eager to foster positive relations, we offered this phalanx of clean, cargo-shorted chaps some welcoming beers and a good-natured tone was struck. Several beers later however the tone turned to concern as the large fellow had surprisingly met his fill already and, nearly in the same spot as his triumphant bong, he stood erect and blew a foamy gusher of liquid beer-puke forward with a volume and force I'd not seen before. Much like a fireworks show, we all 'OOOHHed' and 'AAAHHed'. Once evacuated, he retreated into the camper only to emerge minutes later clean, composed, and with a fresh polo of new pastel color tucked into his khaki shorts. Unwavering, he grabbed a fresh beer, opened the top and drank it like the previous 4 minutes never happened. Cheering and laughs ensued.  While never having been formally introduced, I proclaimed him, for our the extent of the weekend, to be known as Derrick Geyser. 

More sporting skills were made evident and our very own collegiate basketball player dazzled the Dairyland visitors with repeated washers bullseyes using a basketball shot technique instead of the traditional underhand. Other fun was had and I even was so bold as to call a 2:00 minute penalty on the visitors for misconduct in which the violator spent the time in a not-so-very-large RV storage bin. More laughs and his mates agreed, so he served his time. Fair play is fair play and I credit him with acceptance of that call. As the games wound down our joy turned to shock then as we discovered... the beer's nearly ALL GONE!!

(PART 2 TO COME)

Jay Penske Redux and post-Election Diatribe

What was that?! Oh no... another post with "Redux" in the title.

A recapitulation of a previous post. Another lazy-assed post by a lazy-assed blogger.

Hard to argue, but after reading the details of the Jay Penske civil suit against Lotus by Marshall Pruett, I couldn't help but have this 'haven't we heard this before?' feeling.  

As my tens of readers will attest, I sometimes deal with emotional situations by making a parody song fit into the world of Indycar.  Pippa Mann was the most recent recipient back in March of this year.

I also had made a song about Jay Penske in April of 2011. When it seems all this guy wants to do is field an Indycar team, circumstances conspire to make it as difficult as possible for him.  In the words of Mister Calhoun Tubbs, "Wrote a song 'bout it. Liketohearit?hereitgo.."

Jay Penske's Lament

Now that you've re-elected me to Indycar blogger of North-central Indiana region, I wish to address some issues related to our fair sport...  
*guzzles double-shot of whiskey... deep breath*...  Okay.

- The Cars: 
NO the cars aren't the beasts they used to be in the 70s and 80s, and NO they most likely never will be again. Get over it already. There are two good reasons that these days are gone forever... money (the lack thereof) and liability (the abundance of it). 

The question of "How fast do you want to go?" will always be answered with the question, "How much money do you have to spend?" Even the supposed highest heights of worldwide automotive excellence (F1) have to set some restrictions and you now have a modified form of restricted racing. The days of 'unlimited budgets' are gone. Unlimited racing doesn't exist. What's left is the perceived level of performance relative to the technology of the day. For the record, NASCAR, while quite popular, I still consider a form of racer-tainment, not racing. It's more about the drama of the various characters and interactions (off- and on-track). Often compared to Professional Wrestling with good reason, Pro Rasslin' and NASCAR have for many years not been about the technical aspects as much as the character drama presented.

When the sport of open-wheel racing was at it's peak, people often got killed in racing cars. They still do, albeit much less frequently, and racers have always signed up for a occupation which is dangerous in the extreme, but when fans get injured, maimed, and even killed, that's when the 'shit gets real'. To add ever-increasing power and speed and danger to vehicles and place them in relative close proximity to thousands of fans is not asking the question of "if?" but "when?".  One way of mitigating this is to beg plead and promise the insurance companies and leagues that as venues, they're doing all they reasonably can to protect the spectators. Making the cars more dangerous and faster is doing the exact opposite and endangering the lives of drivers, crews, and fans alike. Quite honestly, you can print all the warnings and disclaimers on ticket stubs you like, the venue, league, teams, drivers, and hot dog vendors will be named in the litigation. Let's face it, without venues, we have no racing.

- The Venues:
I'm going to say that last bit again. Without venues, we have no racing. Venues must make money to survive. Racing venues trade danger and speed and perceived competition for your money and the right to see it at their place. They also have massive liability and the job of pleasing thousands of people at each event. I honestly think you must a fair bit nuts to want to own and run any sports venue let alone one made specifically for racing. When people pay money to an event, they want to see something they can't see anywhere else and can't on TV. With TV in this age, there is precious little the viewer doesn't see or isn't made aware of via graphics and statistics. 

For racing, I believe the 'Event' is the event and there must be more than the action on the track, especially when the action is diluted for the perceived safety of all. The Indy 500 is an example of that. It is one tremendous event, and the perception of a world-class event makes it a world-class event.

- The Product:
You may note I've used the word 'perception' several times. 'Perception' is roughly defined as 'what we believe we engage'. When we believe something is great, we vote with our $$ to support it. Likewise in reverse. Perception of 'greatness' and 'amazing' and 'forward' usually is rewarded by the eager onlookers of the public (and then sponsors eager to gain attention of the onlookers) with showers of money. Indycar as a series has lacked a perception of greatness for somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 years. Perhaps there was really nowhere else for it to go but down from the heights achieved in the 70s and 80s. I contend that it was as much a function of the loss of the greatest names from the greatest era of Indycar, in a span of 24 months as all other factors combined. Yes, the split was a huge factor as well, yet the without this loss of these great names so rapidly, I believe the split doesn't go down as it did.

I see one way the fans will perceive Indycar racing as great again (not merely 'good' or 'good enough', but great) and make them pour out money to see it. By giving the people something they cannot see anywhere else AND giving them something they haven't seen before, Indycar has a great opportunity to leap back into relevance. What that is, is for the Owners of Indycar to discern through major market study and analysis. What I believe the public is ready for is what I like to call.. brace yourselves... Ultimate Efficiency.  

The 'quest for speed' days are over. Been there. Been to the edge and back. Think of Indycar much like the Apollo program - there were failures and amazingly great successes in the Apollo program (at immense expense also) and we barely got out of Apollo 13 without suffering an incredible disaster with the whole world watching. Somehow, Indycar has survived the most dangerous, most reckless times relatively unscathed and now it's time to find a better way. A new threshold that I believe can capture the imagination of the public however is the pursuit of Ultimate Efficiency. So many products in this day and age have gone from power- and size-based values to efficiency-based value. How efficient can our propulsion systems be? What is the most efficient form of propulsion? Who will have the next amazing idea that will spur on automotive technologies?  How far and how fast can we go 500 miles on limited amounts of energy input? 

Those answers, I believe, should be answered in the form of the new INDYCAR series. Yes, folks, the new INDYCAR. The series and sport as we currently see it (much as I like it) is a dead-end, we're just waiting to hit the wall to be sure at this point. That wall may be 9, 10, or 11, 14, or 19 years away... no matter. If INDYCAR wants to be proactive and create something to supply the demand of an intrigued public (and future fans) for the next 50 years, I see the open world of multiple forms of propulsion and high-efficiency as the basis of what future fans of people will want to see.  I'm talking about combustible fuels of all sorts, electricity, hydrogen, solar, hot air, flux capacitors, whatever.  Establish a relative unit of energy for these various types of energy usage and set a limit for a given distance to be achieved through a vehicle with specified limits on dimension, weight, coeffcient of drag, and including a standard driver safety cell. Whoever can do it within the energy limit and do it the fastest, wins.

I happen to think that when you engage all the right people in the process of creating an inventive and engaging product (the world's inventing and manufacturing companies of propulsion systems, and to a lesser degree aerodynamics, suspensions, wheels, tires, etc.), I see them pouring money into the sport and creating a product that engages the public immensely.  The demand for personal mobility vehicles will never go away, it just changes over time.  A glimpse of the future is what the public wants to see. When that future-looking public is engaged, the sponsors will be there, the media will be there, and the money will be there.

IS INDYCAR the platform? I would like it to be. I would like INDYCAR to honor the history and tradition of innovation that built the sport. That innovation is what drove the people's imagination and desire. Innovation is what created the legendary vehicles (both great and not-so-great) and legendary pilots who drove them. 

Involving innovation (primarily through propulsion forms) is the ONLY way I see the sport of auto-racing surviving beyond the next 20 years.

Or do you think I'm waaaaay off-base? I'd love for you to read this diatribe, digest it a bit, and tell me what you honestly think.  I'm a big boy, I can take it.

INDYCON Level 4 and Origins Redux

Once upon a time (a simpler and shinier time before children and 9/11 and recessions came bouncing along) I had enough free time to work a full-time job and have the luxury of considering what to do with some bonus evening hours on the weekends while my wife worked (chief photog for our local newspaper).


I fell into the semi-occasional freelance writing gig for my local newspaper covering high school sports on Friday and Saturday nights during football and basketball seasons. This went a 'fer piece up tha road' to satisfying my personal need for a creative outlet. As a bonus, I picked up a few scraps of extra cash which I promptly dumped into little mods here and there on my freelance transportation vehicle (our 1994 Miata C-pkg red with tan leather... I really do miss that car).

This was about.. (oh, what?! It can't be!) thirteen years ago and just.. (oh, wow already?!) four years ago I discovered blogging. It wasn't long before I discovered just how technically simple producing a blog can be. My writing now had an outlet that actually could be read by as many as I wanted to see it. As I began to blog, one subject kept bobbing on the surface of my writing thoughts - The Indianapolis 500. This lead me to start a blog strictly for my fascination with the Indy 500 and Indycar racing which is what you read today.


Now, on this first day of May as I set my INDY-CON (INDY-500 CONdition rating system) to level 4, I realize many who read this blog now may be unaware of the origins. The first day of May is when I traditionally take a look back to one my favorite memories of my youth and of my father. 

Please forgive me as I take the road most lazy and give you the link to the aforementioned nostalgic post...

Synopsis, Part Deux, The End of the Beginning

What does the first day of May trigger for you?