Snake

I have a friend named Snake. Well...no that's not really his name...it's his nickname. There's a story behind why, but I am told it's not safe for human ears. Heh.

I first met Snake when I was sixteen, back when Mum first started going to the track as a worker. He's been a fixture there since dirt. He once told Mum he'd like to take out his dentures and gum her. Yes. He did.

Snake has a mental lexicon of dirty Irish jokes that are knee-slappers. He's Irish by blood, American by birth.

I've worked turns with his kids and given his grandkids guest passes to the track when I had 'em. Our families have gone out to dinner together, camped together, and raised (just a little) Hell together. his Daughter C and my Mum used to tear up the dance floor (also known as the grass/dirt at Fitzy Park) together, dancing with each other because the fellas lacked the chutz to join in...or couldn't keep up.

For many years, Snake has been the caretaker of our radio equipment, keeping our aging and often ailing landline system going with spit and bailing wire and safe-guarding the handheld radios with the ferocity of a really irritated spitting cobra.

Snake is dying.

He's had cancer for...umm...wow, I can't remember how many years. A lifetime of smoking, drinking, sunshine and hard living caught up to him. Snake is a tough old bird, though, and hard to kill. Still...time and tide catch us all, and it is Snake's turn to dance the last dance.

He's in hospice care as I type this. There's not much hope he'll outlast the week...maybe not even the next day or so.

I'm not going to visit him. Not because I don't care - the idea of a world without Snake in it is disheartening, to say the very least. I'm not going because he's not there. Not the part of him that I know, not my friend. He won't care that I'm there, nor miss me if I'm not.

Instead, I am going to relate one of the racing stories he told me a very long time ago...to this day, it's one of my favorites. I've told it my way because I don't have the skill to capture Snake's style...
~~~~~
When I first started working turns, we had a fairly extensive "breaking in" period, with classes to help train us in safety and response and even a fire certification school. A popular pastime for more experienced workers was to tell us newbies horror stories. Snake liked to tell new folks about one particularly horrid incident, which may or may not really have happened and one incident that did happen. The story itself always elicited wry laughs...stick with it to the end and you'll see why.

During one event, there was a somewhat spectacular wreck, the kind that shuts down the session. Back then, we had a lot more workers on the turns, and we would run onto a hot track (hot meaning the session was still...er...in session, race traffic still on the go) if needs must. The incident was severe enough to warrant a call for medical, but it would take a minute to get there, so workers responded to the cars involved. One worker noticed a helmet on the ground by the track and ran to retrieve it - a helmet can tell the medical crew a lot about what sort of injuries to expect. Much to the worker's horror, there was a head in the helmet!

A few years ago there was a motorcycle event at the track. Motorcycles have always been notorious for spectacular incidents and more than a few bizarre injuries (and yes, deaths). New workers are usually given "quieter" turns where more experienced workers help them learn the ropes. At this event, one of the new workers had been initiated with Snake's head-in-the-helmet story, and was hoping that no such incident would occur on his turn.

All was well for the first day or so - good riding, very few riders going down.

Day two, however, was a zoo. Perhaps the riders had partied too hard the night before (What?? Never!!), or perhaps the gremlins were simply having a field day...whatever the reason, bikes were sliding all over the place, and workers were running response and calling for transport so fast and so often, it seemed more like an ambulance race.

Our new worker was sent to respond to one such incident. His corner captain couldn't understand what seemed to be a sudden fit of hysteria, the worker dancing about, waving his arms, signalling for an ambulance, and retching in the tire wall.

The rider was sitting up and seemed OK, so what was the problem.

Hmm.

Oh, wait...the leg still attached to the bike might be a clue.

Wait. Rider over here. Bike over there. Leg on bike.

And yet...the rider didn't seem all that concerned. Must be in shock.

Not so much.

You see, this rider had a prosthetic lower leg...a fact none of the workers knew at the time. While a prosthesis isn't particularly hampering to a racer, it can be a bit of a boor when the foot constantly slips off the foot-peg and hits the track - makes cornering a bitch.

Being a competitive fellow, and somewhat innovative, our rider decided that a judicious application of Duct Tape was in order. He taped the foot to the peg, problem solved.

Until he went down and the bike went one way while his body went another.

Ouch. And, erm...oops.

Eventually the new worker was made to understand the situation, poor fellow. The rider, with some assistance, reattached his leg, got back on his bike and limped (hah!) back to the pits. The worker returned to his station and was the recipient of some not unkind ribbing from his fellows, and the race went on.
~~~~~
So long, Snake...I'll miss you, you grumpy old cuss. The track just won't be the same without you. See you on the other side...

Let's Go Racin'

I won't be online as much as usual this week; the Petit Le Mans starts Tuesday, and I run worker registration and hospitality for the event starting Monday evening. That means eighteen hour days and no Internet while I'm over there.

I will be coming home from time to time - I live less than a mile from the track, and have a few hours mid-day when I don't have to be there, so I usually come home for a shower, a nap, and some quiet.

I plan to post daily, as always - y'all didn't think you were getting off that easily, did you??

I figured I'd tell you a little about what I'm doing over there (this week with the added bonus of lots of rain!) on a typical day:

4:30 AM - get up, get dressed, make sure the Evil Genius's clothes are ready for him, start the crock-pot if I'm using it to cook tonight's dinner, grab the handheld radio (it's been charging overnight) and cell phone and head over to the track. Everything else is already in the van, packed the night before.

5:00 AM - fetch ice from the cooler halfway across the property, 4 or 5 twenty-pound bags hauled out of the cooler, into the van.

5:15 AM - unload ice from van. Ice down water, juice, and soft drinks. Start coffee urns - there are three, but they have to be done two at a time and I can't turn on the lights until they're done or we blow the surge-protector and lose power. Unload registration box containing passes, car passes, waivers, pens, and schedules. Unload boxes of t-shirts to be given to the workers when they register. Put breakfast pastries and fruit out, and any snacks available for workers to take with them to their stations. Haul cases of water from the trailer and set them out for workers to take with them for the day. Set out flags, radios and communications equipment by station number.

5:45 - make my one cup of coffee for the day (this week, I will drink coffee or tea in the morning because otherwise I won't make it to lunch, let alone through the whole day) and tuck a danish roll away for the Evil Genius when he comes over with whoever leaves the house last in the morning.

5:50 - ready the registration area.

6:00 - Open registration, get workers and their guests signed in, hand out t-shirts and swag bags, check coffee, start new urns, place more breakfast pastries, fruit, and snacks out as needed.

10:00 AM - close registration, tidy up the tent area, fill coolers with water and soft drinks, fetch more ice and ice down drinks, turn off and empty coffee urns, load urns and registration gear into the van, wait for lunches to arrive, order lunches for tomorrow.

11:30 - sort lunches for delivery by zone, sort drinks for same, send them out with zone chiefs, make certain remaining lunches are enough to feed workers who report to the tent for meals, re-fill and re-ice coolers. Feed Evil Genius lunch and try not to notice how filthy he is from playing in the field that is out parking lot/hospitality area.

1:00 - tidy tent again, stow any extra lunches (hah!!), fill coolers one more time. Cajole, threaten, and bribe Evil Genius to get into the van, haul coffee urns and us back to the house. Clean urns. Fill water jugs - we don't have a water source at the track, so I have to come home for it. Load urns, water jugs, and afternoon/evening snacks into the van. Chivvy Evil Genius into the house, out of his dirty clothes, and maybe into the tub. Shower. Check on dinner in the crock-pot. Check e-mail, phone messages, and blogs, make phone calls. Nap, if there's time.

3:00 - load Evil Genius and self into the van, return to the track. Prep the coffee urns for tomorrow. Tidy the tent. Unload registration boxes, t-shirts, and snacks for the evening. fill and ice coolers.

4:00 - open registration. This is when most workers' guests will arrive. Update the bulletin board with tomorrow's hours, notes and menu.

4:30 - ice beer and wine for after-shutdown social.

5:30 - set out snacks for the social.

7:00 - close registration, load registration box and t-shirts into van.

9:00 - chase workers and guests away, close down social, tidy tent, turn out the lights, double-check the coffee urns (because coffee failure?? not an option!!), and head home with the Evil Genius if he didn't go back to the house earlier with Mum (who is working in the communications center for this event).

10:00 - load breakfast and snacks into the van fro morning, top up the boxes of swag bags so I don't run out, fill water jugs, bring in radio to charge over night, eat dinner if there's any left, visit with out of town guests visiting for the race, tidy kitchen, tidy living room, prep dinner for tomorrow, get Evil Genius bathed, read him a story, and get him to bed.

Midnight (if I'm lucky) - crawl into bed and die for a few hours.

4:30 AM - repeat above.

In between times, I'm usually running back and forth from the tent delivering ice and water to the workers or registering people who came in late (because I AM nice, damnit!!) and generally trying to help things run as smoothly as possible. It's chaotic, exhausting, and fun.

On Thursday, we'll have night practice and I'll be home even later, and Friday is the cookout and door-prize giveaway, so late again. Saturday is the final day, and I'll take the Evil Genius all over the track so he can watch the racing from every possible angle...and while we're at it, I'll haul water and ice around to anyone who needs it, fetch lunches and dinners for the workers, make sure Mum in the tower has whatever she needs, and nap once or twice. By end of race on Saturday, I'll have the tent tidied away for the last time, all the remaining drinks and snacks set out, and a bottle of Scotch ready to share with the event chiefs and my friends from out of town.

I may or may not get out of bed on Sunday. Or Monday.