The Ugliest Car to Qualify at Indy

One of the closest and most exciting finishes in Indy history came in 2006 when Sam Hornish, Jr. passed Marco coming down the front straight within 200 yards of the line on the final lap. Never in the history of the race had the lead changed so closely to the line. My seats were located on the front straight that day just beyond the start/finish line and the noise from the crowd was deafening as it had been only a few times before.

It was an amazing end to a race month that was filled with ugly weather and one of the ugliest cars to ever qualify at Indy.

The two Rookie Orientation days of the month went smoothly, but 7 out of the following 11 available days, including qualifying, were either shortened or cancelled completely by rain. Qualifying was compressed from the '11/11/11/bumps' four-day format to two days. Unfortunately for some teams, there was precious little time to get marginal cars up to speed. PDM Racing was just such a team. 

A smaller-budget team already battling money, time, and the elements just to have an opportunity to make the show. Their rookie driver Thiago Medeiros, the 2004 Infiniti Pro Series Champion, worked well through his Rookie Orientation Procedure in this cobbled together mess of a G-Force chassis on May 8th: 

(c) 2006, Jim Haines, Motorsport.com

The PDM effort was dealt a serious blow when Medeiros crashed and severely damaged (although judging by aesthetics, that may be a relative term) their lone chassis late in the limited practice of Thursday, May 18.

Just two days remained if PDM was going to be able to even attempt to make the race. One final day of practice on Friday and Saturday's Pole Day qualifying later, 32 cars were proven to make the grid, leaving the team of Marty Roth Racing and PDM the only two fighting for that final spot.

The team spent those two days scrambling to find money and parts and time to assemble their one chassis to have their lone, Bump Day shot at making the race. And what an ugly chassis it was. With some unpainted or scavenged, mis-matched parts, a few sponsor stickers, and lots of elbow grease, the PDM team worked for two straight days and nights to get the already abysmal appearing "Frankenchassis" of a Panoz to the limited practice available prior to the final day of qualifying on Sunday, May, 21st.

Due to lack of qualifying attempts, most of Bump Day remained open for practice as teams prepped their Race Day settings. Drama arrived late in the afternoon in the form of A. J. Foyt Racing who surprisingly pulled a third, prepared chassis from their stable and employed the experienced Ryan Briscoe to possibly qualify the number 48.

Adding pressure to what had already been a highly taxing 48 hours for PDM racing, they returned from the garages with less than 60 minutes remaining, following some final changes, a new sponsor sticker, aero parts from what appeared to be no less than 6 different origins, and presented their car for qualifying attempt number one at 5:03pm. 

(c) 2006, Dan Vielhaber, Indymotorspeedway.com

(c) 2006, Gavin Lawrence

It is fairly certain that to all who followed this story, breathing was done only as minimally as possible.  All of PDM Racing's hopes and aspirations for the 2006 Indy 500 were riding on the four laps that Medeiros was about to take.

Thiago managed to qualify the car on his first attempt, nearly bouncing the 32nd car to 33rd, but slowing enough on the final lap to be set "on the bubble" for the remainder of the day. As the clock ticked and Marty Roth presented a car for qualifying, his hopes were dashed in warm-ups when losing control of the car and colliding with the Turn One wall.

Perhaps mercifully, Foyt withdrew their third car from the qualifying line, and as the gun sounded at 6:00pm, ending qualifying for 2006, underdog PDM Racing and Thiago Medeiros must have felt nearly as jubilant making the field for the 2006 Indy 500 as winning it.

PDM's raceday version of the car was a sight for sore eyes and a marked improvement over what was until then, perhaps the ugliest car to ever contend during the month of May.

(c) 2006, Earl Ma, Motorsport.com

  

How Tennis Confirmed That I Could Never Drive an Indycar

I play sports as a way to get some exercise, but more as a way to challenge myself and assess my skills. I love to compete - fairly, cleanly, honestly. I play many sports for the competitive aspects or for the enjoyment of learning a sport new to me, but one sport I play simply for the fun of it is tennis. 

Currently my Monday nights are filled with a group of mixed doubles players that originated over 20 years ago. Only one of the original couples from that bunch still plays. They went from being the youngest couple at inception of this group to being the most senior couple currently playing. I've been playing with this bunch for about 9 years and am now in the upper half of ages now.

I find myself most excited about chasing down impossible 'gets' and returning them, to the dismay of my most-often younger opponents. It's a part of my DNA apparently, or perhaps I was a Golden Retriever in a previous life and chasing tennis balls is a purely joyful exercise.

Last night was no exception. As my partner and I attacked the net, I anticipated their lob over her and began to track back behind her. Their crisply-struck baby-lob just cleared my partner's racquet, dropped gently in the back of our court, and was headed away from me. I gave chase and managed at full-tilt to just flick a shot back over my shoulder feeling like it was just solid enough to return to the opponent's side of the court.

Now is where being the elder and trying a bit too hard became a liability.

My momentum from the all-out sprint, carried me well-beyond the back of the court, and in trying to extend myself fully to get a racquet to the ball, and losing balance, stumbled slightly which did not allow me to slow myself properly before hitting the chainlink fence behind the court. I still have a picture in my head of what I saw right before impact. 

There was a millisecond of silence after the ball left the strings and... >BANG<

I managed to collide with the fence right at a vertical post. With my face. My arms all splayed about trying to complete the list of things, perhaps in the wrong order (flicking the racquet into position for a shot, keeping my balance, protecting my face from the impending impact, etc.). Nevertheless, I quickly recovered to see that the ball was still in play, on the opposite side of the court, being easily volleyed away and we lost the point. 

It hurt.

I still have cuts and abrasions on my forehead and nose... and knee... and elbow... and cheek from the things I saw right before impact. The greatest pain found however, was my bruised ego.

Illuminated for me in an instant was a much more important point that wasn't tallied in this contest - sometimes trying too hard is not in fact beneficial to the overall result.

It reminded me that what happens in an Indycar isn't terribly dissimilar, only on a much more severe magnitude.  When I realized that it is, in fact, within my nature to chase things from a nearly-impossible position. I knew that this is a trait which is the precise opposite of what is required to drive an Indycar successfully. 

No driver I've ever seen in Indycar has said that they got more out of the car that it gave them. Drivers are instructed quickly very bad things happen when you try that.

Not that I could ever, but I think as Indycar fans, we all harbor the slightest illusion or fantasy of driving and Indycar at race speeds around IMS. Guess what? If you're reading this, it's likely in the extreme that you can't. In fact, pretty close to none of us can do it. Maybe a late-comer to feeling like I have enough evidence to believe this, but far too many people (an many newcomers to Indycar who comment on the live practice feeds) don't understand the difficulty of racing an Indycar at IMS around such a 'boring' oval.

I've even been fortunate enough to have done the two-seater ride and the single-seater ride at IMS. According to what I was told, my gear-limited top speed driving myself was approximately 149 mph. On the straights it was thrilling.  In the corners it was really quite overwhelming to the senses. And this was only approximately at 60% of what the current drivers experience, NOWHERE near the limits of adhesion that they deal with every corner of every high-speed lap. It was a bit of a eye-opener for me, realizing that there is something I could never physically or mentally do.

Not without smashing into a fence at some point anyway.

So, while watching these drivers on TV, try to realize that what appears quite like a simple Sunday drive around a simple four-turn course, isn't, and is something you most likely will never be able to. Appreciate the subtleties of high-speed oval racing.

Even if you can't see them, understand they're there and that because they make it look easy, should indicate just how great these drivers are.

Wake Up The Echoes

The line "wake up the echoes", as almost everyone from the northern part of Indiana would recall, is a lyric from the Notre Dame Victory March. The line is set within a stanza implores one to recall and revive the glories past;

Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame, 

Wake up the echoes cheering her name, 

Send a volley cheer on high, 

Shake down the thunder from the sky.

Growing up where I did, Notre Dame football and the Indianapolis 500 once held an unparalleled significance in both long-standing tradition and celebration on an annual basis. I still see similarities with this sentiment and the opening day at IMS.

Opening day of 500 practice reminds us of a few things that acknowledge time and place; another year has ticked by, we have indeed survived another winter (which for Northern Indiana tends to be a bleak and oppressive 4 months), the optimism of spring is well and truly beset around us, the greening of the landscape signals the onset of more comfortable climes, and the quickening of pace to all things Indiana, especially the cars at Indy. My recent visit to the Indycar Grand Prix followed by this opening day also has awoken my restful desire to write here again. 

After being at IMS this past weekend, I appreciate how I find something special each visit there. Whether recalling specific visits or events past, or how the physical grounds and surroundings change over the years, or a mixture of people, time, and place, each visit seems unique and never repetitive. This past weekend I was not only engrossed with the racing, but also noticing what's new around the track and in the museum.

Of special note to me was the A.J. Foyt exhibit in the museum and the demolished Lola tub on display that had been saved from his horrific crash at Road America in 1990. It takes very little imagination to see what damage was done to his body in that crash.

While presented as a testament to his incredible toughness and desire to return to racing following that crash, I am also reminded of how incredibly dangerous this endeavor is, despite the ongoing improvements to safety. Maybe it's my steadily advancing age, or the fact that I'll be attending my 30th Indy 500 this year, or that I've been following the sport for around 40 of my 49 years, but the fragility of life in the profession of Indycar racing seems all the more apparent now. In light of the length of my Speedway history, Hinchcliffe's crash still seems like yesterday to me.

There is that dark and rarely officially discussed thread of mayhem and death woven into the history of the Speedway and while there is no need to glorify it, I also feel it quite important and well overdue to more suitably, publicly, and solemnly honor, via a permanent museum place or exterior monument, all those (fans included) who have given their lives from the events within the confines of the Speedway.

There really needs to be no shame in doing so, I feel. The drivers all eagerly acknowledge this risk in trade for thrills, riches, and glory. To publicly exhibit some condolence to those who were far less fortunate seems a fitting and necessary counter-balance to the weight of glory.

Many acknowledge a 'spirit of the Speedway' that they experience when visiting. While difficult to substantiate in a logical way, I've felt it as well nearly every visit. I don't think it a stretch to consider that something well beyond our understanding may be 'touching' our psyche in those moments and to me, it feels as if it is from those who are gone.

Hokey-sounding perhaps, but I can assure you something I've experienced, and not imagined. 

So before I succumb to the annual rites of celebration and 'shaking down of the thunder' that arrive with my annual trip to the Speedway for the Indy 500 weekend, I'm feeling the need to take a moment today, this opening day at IMS, in solemn reflection of those whose lives were forever altered or mortally concluded at the Speedway. 

If nothing else, I'll take those moments when they come (much like today) to consider the lives lost at the speedway and extend into the sky/universe a solemn acknowledgement of their sacrifice.