Throw Some Tech at It

Auto racing has always been about the synergy between driver and machine. Racing celebrates and honors engineering accomplishment every bit as much as it does the striving towards the ultimate in human potential.

We trust our machines. We love our machines. We are at one with our machines when we are in the groove and we suffer with our machines when either one of us fails.

Some of us prefer a relatively simple machine, one that we can understand, build, diagnose, repair, and feel very much at home with. Some of us prefer exotic machines, ones with components that we can control but must leave to a team of engineers to fully understand.

Here's a simple test for you to take at home. Do you say 'wedge' or 'camber'? Do you 'downshift' or 'select a lower gear'? Is your 'black box' your engine mapping and control unit or where you keep your spare wrenches?

While I love the sound, feel, smell, and sense of power of Formula One cars, I'm more at home with technology I can understand. Often it works to throw some tech at a problem. Frequently it is more satisfying to reach down and find the best that is in yourself, and throw that at the problem.

A New Reality

Karl Wallenda, the great aerialist, said that ‘life is being on the wire. Everything else is just waiting’. He was describing a reality on the wire that transcends life on the ground, a reality in which all his senses are fully engaged and that survival means total concentration on the move he is making. This overwhelming awareness creates a more complete, a more real, a more eternal and unchanging Wallenda than existed before or would exist after.

Yogi Berra, the great baseball player and manager, said that 'you can’t think and hit at the same time’. He was describing the cleansing of the mind needed for micro-second reaction to the ball in flight. The batter is, at that moment, in a world completely defined by those elements necessary for the successful meeting of ball and bat.

Driving an automobile at high speed through a turn on a race track gives me the opportunity to experience just a bit of that mind-cleansing reality and become fully myself in a way that nothing else does. For fleeting moments I create a timeless space that remembers no past and envisions no future.

I approach the corner, remembering every inch of it from countless repetitions. I note my car’s speed, the sound of the engine, the feel of the throttle, the exact moment that I apply the brakes, the force that is applied to my body, the tuft of grass or pebble just off the track that is my turn-in point, the sound and the degree of sideslip of my tires and the loading of the outside springs.

I make constant tiny adjustments, with throttle and hand position, for the angle at which I am approaching the corner’s apex and for the feel of the application of power. I note the placement of my inside wheels on the rumble strips, the lateral forces on my body, the smell of rubber leaving the tires, the sound of my tires gripping the pavement, the angle and speed at which I am approaching the track-out point, the placement of my outside wheels on the rumble strip and the direction, speed and feel of my car as it heads down the straight.

Now, I’m only a middle of the pack amateur at high performance driving, but, if I am skilled enough, selfless enough and lucky enough, I am, for the briefest of moments, fully engaging my senses of sight, of touch, of sound, of smell, of trust, of accomplishment, of failure, of joy, of terror, of chaos, of serenity, of the miracle of life and of the certainty of death.