Weather...or not

(Val) Over the years, I've watched races from just about any imaginable place, bleachers, infield, NSCHoF suites, the sofa in my livingroom. Yesterday, however, was the first time I ever heard part of a race while crouching in our storm closet with the tornado sirens blaring outside.

To be honest, we did not intentionally turn on the race, but we have a TV band radio in our basement storage area so we can hear what's going on during dangerous weather situations. Because our local Fox affiliate does such a great job with their weather coverage, it just so happened that we already had them tuned in, which meant we got to listen to the race when they weren't breaking in with updates. So as I sat there trying to keep the kids and the dog distracted, it was kind of nice to have the race on to help divert my attention from the possible destruction going on outside.

As a midwestern gal born and raised, tornadoes are just a part of life. We know the signs, what to watch for, and quite often, we hit the basement before the sirens even go off. Such was the case yesterday afternoon. When the trees stopped swaying from side to side, and began twisting instead, we decided to head to the hidey hole.

My husband designed, built and reinforced our glorified closet a few years back, after many debates about whether or not our full-framed walkout basement was really the safest place to go during destructive weather. It’s a great storage place with a hallway long enough for the four of us to sit or stand. He built it before the dog came along, so it’s a little bit crowded now, but we don’t mind.

As much as small spaces bother me, I always feel pretty safe there. After watching the coverage of the destruction of the last few storms to hit our area, I am more thankful for our safe room than ever before. There's no place like home during an outbreak of severe weather.

Weather plays a huge factor in Motorsports, and not just for the drivers and their teams trying to drive a race or set up a car. Ask anyone who has logged on to the NOAA site in the hours leading up to a planned race trip and you may find out that we know more about weather patterns, storm fronts and barometric pressure than fans of any other sport ever imagined.

Quite often, that radar screen, combined with the weather report, will make or break a race weekend. However, erring on the side of caution can also cost us when we’re wrong. That happened Saturday night.

My Dad and I have this agreement. Because we can’t stand freezing at the race track, we’ve decided not to go if the night time temperature is predicted to fall below a certain point. Let’s face it, no one wants to pay to be uncomfortable all night long, no matter how exciting the action on the track. Over the years, we have attended a few races in the cold, and it’s never been a pretty site. We anticipated that happening last Saturday night with the World of Outlaws Sprint Car race at I-55 Raceway, and it kept us from seeing what turned out to be some great racing. With 55 Sprint Cars signed in, the temperature didn’t drop below our cutoff point until after the feature. Needless to say, we blew it this weekend!

One of those weekends that really did turn out to be uncomfortably cold happened on a quick trip my husband and I took down to Dallas a few years ago. Richard Day, then PR Rep for the World of Outlaws Sprint Series, invited us down to Lanny and Beverly Edwards’ Devil’s Bowl Speedway in Mesquite, Texas. A friend got us a great rate on stand-by tickets to fly down, so there was just no way we could turn down the invitation. My only problem was overcoming claustrophobia long enough to survive the flight.

We made it out of St. Louis on the second flight of the day, and after waiting through the de-icing procedure, we were on our way. The flight was uneventful until it came time to land, which turned out to be the one of the most frightening experiences of my life. Our pilot must have moved from flying F-15s straight into flying jumbo jets and no one explained to her that landing one is in no way similar to landing the other. Even my husband, who is a stalwart flyer, was ready to kiss the ground when we deplaned.

We picked up our rental car, navigated the traffic and found our way to Devil’s Bowl Speedway. What an amazing track! We were enthralled with the absence of fencing along the back straight, and we cracked up every time a car would disappear over the ridge out of turn two and then come roaring back onto the track and into to turn three. The racing was awesome, and we had a wonderful time.

It got a bit chilly that first night, so on Saturday, we bundled up, wearing just about everything we’d brought along, and spent the evening huddling up near those engine heaters that some of the teams use. It was cold, and we toughed it out for as long as we could, then headed back to our hotel for a few hours’ sleep. Despite the cold, we had a lot of fun that weekend, and I know that given the choice, we would do it all over again.

Cold and rain are certainly not the only enemies of the race fan, that’s for sure. The very worst, and certainly the most dangerous situation, has to be tornadoes. It only stands to reason that with so many tracks in the middle of Tornado Alley, they are bound to be a factor. For a few years there, I was beginning to think they were attracted to me personally.

It’s one thing when those bad boys strike early in the program, before nightfall when you can see them coming, but it’s another matter entirely when they wait until it’s pitch black outside. Twice now we have run from tornadoes, and both were frightening experiences. I would have to say that the time we sought shelter in one of the show barns at Knoxville was probably the scariest. When you look around and realize that the only thing standing between you and a possible twister are two-by-fours and sheet metal, let’s just say it’s a bit difficult to rustle up even the slightest bit of courage.

We have been fortunate throughout all of the years we have been attending races. That night at Knoxville was closer to danger than I ever wanted to be, yet when the worst was over, and we were just hanging out in the barn waiting for the rain to let up so we could walk back to the campground, we met new people and found things to laugh about. The “full moon” that flashed us through the window of the barn next door caused quite a stir, especially when we returned to camp and found out we knew the guy.

All in all, even those close calls help make up the pages of our scrapbook of racing memories. There is triumph in survival, and satisfaction in living to tell about it.