Yesterday I went into a wall at RA’s S curves. Was head on. Was probably doing 80-85 when I hit. Spec3 in front of me blew a radiator hose. He went outside and I got off the gas and gingerly went inside in order to avoid whatever it was that I could see spewing out of his car. I thought I was clear of the fluid but then my rear end snapped around on me. I stood on the brakes so the car wouldn’t hook into a wall. Which is when it hooked sharply right.
My last thought was “I wonder how much that grass is going to slow me down”?
The impact knocked the wind out of me so I mostly just sat there and tried to get some air with shallow breaths while I pondered just how messed up I might be. By the time I could breath they stopped the race and pulled everyone off of the track.
I figured at that point it would probably be good to get out of the car in case something got suddenly worse. I figured that would also give me a chance to take a good inventory of body parts so I’d have answers for the ambulance when it showed up. So I crawled out of the car and on to the grass. I waited for the ambulance in a good prone position. It was quite comfortable.
I’m ok. I hit my harness straps so hard that bones moved in all sorts of ways that they’re unaccustomed to, but it’s nothing that motrin won’t take care of.
The car’s not ok tho. It’s a write off. If the engine had been pushed back any further it would have ended up in my lap. I claim the most severe SpecE30 crash the SE has ever seen. Those of you that took pics, pls post them at some pic hoster so I can get to them. My cell phone got swiped at Hutchinson so I didn’t get any pics of my own.
The guys were a huge help getting my car on to my trailer today…in particular Chuck Taylor, the Harnesses, and Robert Grace’s dad. I really didn’t do anything in that effort, other than to badger Fred to take lots of pics.
It’s going to take much of next year, I suppose, to build a new car. Is irksome.
Ideally I’ll find an '87 or '88 that someone started preparing, got a cage in, and then ran out of motivation. That person is now desparate because their wife found out about the mistress and will sell their car for beer money and a winning smile.