surfnsprint

My truck is rated to pull about 8,000 pounds. With the box trailer, the sprint car, the quad, the tool boxes and the ice chests we were probably pulling about 5,000 pounds. The back of the pickup provides about 77 square feet of cargo space. With the spare tires, chairs and personal items we were probably only using half of that. But the real payload was in the crew cab. It was stuffed full with a big Swede sprint driver, two brawny pit crew members, two lovely team support members and a greenie car sponsor. But mostly, when we pulled into the Santa Maria Speedway Saturday afternoon, that cab was full of gritty, focused, singled, bone picking determination. Win.

This speedway sits down low, bigger than Ventura, not quite as wide as Kings. It’s tucked up nice against a high western hillside, crowned by time worn stand of wind breaking Eucalyptus. Spectators sit with their backs to that hill, with this racetrack laid out below them and another classic racetrack, the 101 freeway right behind it. At this track, not only are the ovals banked, the straight-aways are also distinctly banked. An interesting confluence of planes, rotations and distance me thinks! Meanwhile, that cool coastal air started moving west to east, making for a pleasant afternoon and a very cool evening.

Down in the pits, there is a lot of hustle getting the cars ready. There are bleeders, groovers and stagger changing movers all at work. There is plenty of time, with the qualifications not even starting until 6 o’clock. However, it seems that as soon as these crews get their cars dialed in, they sit back in their chairs for 20 minutes staring at it, then get up and start tearing something else apart. Or they redo what they just did. Or they get up and check it for the third time. There is lots of checking, lots of sitting and lots of helping your neighbor.

The smell of chicken cooking over green oak began wafting down from the concession stands. I know it sounds funny, but this track smells good. The prevailing breezes push down the hill with a combination of cooked chicken, eucalyptus and California sage brush washing over everything.

The track announcer made the rounds, introducing himself to the visiting drivers, learning about them, making notes and making friends. This resulted some great announcing the rest of the evening, intelligent, informed and interesting. Well done.

Espinoza pulled the pill for the first qualifying time and rolled the 09 car out to the fresh dirt. With the track record standing at 13.354, he posted a decent 14.359. However, the regulars came out and started posting faster including Pombo at 13.91, Porte at about 13.957 and Knopf at 14.110. Templeman was fast, Wakim was fast and I’m sure there were some others. Unfortunately, I was forced to inspect the sanitation facilities at this point and I think I missed the fastest time. Amateur.

I hooked up with my out of town friends and we went to find some seats for the racing. The place was packed and we were forced to sit down low in the mud slinging section.

However, it did set us up for some slow motion destruction viewing that was about to unfold.

The first heat was intense, featuring local favorites Knopf and Pombo. It ended up Katz (? couldn’t find him on the program), Pombo, Hood and Knopf qualifying for the main event.

Second heat brought on the first of two spectacular crashes during the evening. After the third restart of the heat, Chris Wakim in the 9w was coming out of turn 4 battling Jeremy Ellertson in the 98 car for the same piece of dirt. Wakim was in the middle of a slide move that never completed. As tires meet Wakim went airborne over Ellertson. Right in front of us I watched as his first bounce was brutal, catapulting him back into the air for a turning, rolling, corkscrewing series of bounces down the front straightaway, finally coming to rest in the upside down position, tires and axles dangling wickedly on all sides, oil dripping everywhere. Chris says when he finally opened his eyes, his blessed St Christopher medal was laying in the mud right below him. “just gimme that” he told the first emergency worker to arrive.

The rest of the heat was slightly less eventful but no less determined with Carlile, Templeton, Rodriquez and Kierce advancing. All four of these guys were huge at Hanford at week earlier.

Third heat had a skilled charge by Greg Porte followed across the line by Darren Simas, Santa Cruz area local Evan Suggs and VRA driver Ryan Devitt.

I found the final heat as the most interesting with local Danny Sheridan and Peter “No Worries” Murphy having their first dust up. Rick Williams, substitute driving the 75t car (Stansbury) was also up front. Young Blake Miller was also charging, exhibiting his patented, methodical and relentless precision driving. Murphy crossed first, followed by Williams, Sheridan and Miller.

The second semi main provided the 2nd significant crash of the day. On an early caution, when the yellow came out it appears that Tim Moon in the 10 car didn’t see it in time while coming out of turn 3. He did a “rear wheel jump” over (I think it was) Joey Layman. As he launched, he started climbing the crash fence, snapping two protective cables. I thought for a moment he was going to clear the top (and so did the spectators on the other side who started scrambling faster than a pony stock heat race) but gravity took over, pulling his frame and body back down hard on the concrete barrier. After the race, I asked him what was going thru his mind when he started to climb that fence. He said that he was unaware of the fence, he was concentrating on getting his body real small. Looking at the remains of his car frame, we could see where the concrete wall had smashed the frame and the fiberglass hood directly in front of the driver’s seat. I didn’t ask whether he had a St. Christopher’s medal.

The rest of that semi proceeded crash free, with strong driving by the entire crew. Steve Conrad looked decisive. Bob Hedlund (in his second year behind the wheel) was very aggressive in the first half of the run, but started having tire pressure issues and faded in the second half. Greg Taylor, without a motor for this race, mentored Bob and his crew all afternoon and the car showed it on a track that was getting slick and mean. It was Leed, Ellertson (making up for that disastrous 2nd heat), Steve Conrad, Hobie Conway and Bruce Douglas advancing.

By the time the main event rolled around, the coastal marine layer was in full bloom with fingers of fog rolling across the ghostly halogen lighting. As the sprints are pushing off and filling the track, there is a comic yet tension filled episode as the pit crews scramble across the track to the infield with carts piled high with top heavy tires and supplies. It looks like a carnival shooting gallery as cars and crews try to dodge each other and track officials scratch their heads. It is almost midnight and all about me children are splayed out on the stands sleeping as their parents can’t bring themselves to leave. Up on the highway some big rig pulls long and hard on his air horn, prompting a roaring response from the crowd. Slowly, everybody gets to their places and as the cars pass two wide with one lap to start, the crowd is their feet shouting and showing their appreciation.

About 16,000 horse power roars to life and despite three restarts, it quickly becomes apparent that this is a slugfest between Murphy and Sheridan. Knopf and Suggs did their best to break it up, but this almost seemed personal. Templeton was stalking the front runners, but couldn’t get as close to either as he wished. I kept looking for Kierce who had been so strong at Hanford, but he was lost in the back. Trading the lead back and forth a few times, Murphy seemed to gaining momentum as they came into the 14th lap. At this point, Knopf went out with what appeared to be overheating and Kierce also dropped out for some mechanical problem. Templeman was still stalking as was Suggs and Miller.

For the last 15 laps, Murphy started to put some distance and lapped cars between Sheridan and himself. He delivered a textbook drive on a diamond hard slick, posting few if any errors. Sheridan found himself in the same position Murphy had in Hanford a week earlier; behind and desperately looking an opening. None was provided. On the last lap, someone spun out and we went yellow. They took twenty minutes to regroup, rounding up all the lapped cars and carefully replacing them between the two front runners. By the restart, there was so much trash between the two that Murphy made it look like a victory lap. Evan Suggs, a young and talented driver had scraped his way to third place.

It was clear cut victory for the Bandits as they showed the Ventura crew who owned this track. This is nice track, met a lot of nice people. We got our gear in the trailer and started the long drive back to Ventura.

It’s funny. When you get to the track, it’s all about winning. When you leave the track, it’s a lot different. If you won, that’s what counts. If you didn’t win, but you are driving the car back into the trailer, you tell yourself you had a good time. If you didn’t win and you have to drag the poor carcass back into the trailer, it means it didn’t go very well.

At four o’clock in the morning I slid into bed. My wife lifts her head and asks how the races were. Softly I say “it didn’t go very well”.

posted: 9:43 AM