Never Stop Driving #119: Crash!
I smashed the barrier at 54 miles per hour. The Mustang’s nose rode the wall skyward as my body squeezed into the belts. In those final few microseconds my emotions cycled through panic, fury, and, finally, guilt. I was sharing a car with two close friends and my wreck last weekend derailed not just my race, but theirs, too.
When people ask why I devote considerable resources to car racing, I tell them about the thrill, but also that motorsports supplies all the richness of human emotions yet in the end has few life-altering consequences. A first place or a fast lap is like a lottery win and even though I’m far from a professional—I call myself a “pretty good mediocre driver”—I feel electrically charged after a race. A broken car or, far worse, a crash is awful to be sure, but assuming no injuries, which are thankfully rare, the weekend is a blip and life goes on.
This crash, however, was different. I simply drove too fast entering Turn 6 at Watkins Glen raceway. At any other circuit, I likely would have harmlessly drifted wide and off the track, but the Glen punishes mistakes. Guardrails line the track and in some places are adjacent to the pavement. Turn 6 has a few feet of grass between the track and the wall, which is lined with a single layer of impact-absorbing tires. As the Mustang slid off the pavement, I thought I’d slowed enough that the hit might be a glancing blow. A second or so before impact, however, I reached 120 mph, and my internal speed compass was way off. BOOM! I barreled in and hit the barrier at 54 mph, according to the data recorder.
To put that in context, if I’d hypothetically dropped the car from a seven-story balcony, it would be traveling at roughly 54 mph when it hit the ground. The impact bent several critical chassis parts. Our professional crew weren’t sure it was fixable. My mistake happened on Thursday afternoon, during practice for the weekend’s race. We were just getting started when I blew it.
I need to paint a little backstory here.
Two long-time friends and I gathered at Watkins Glen for a pair of eight-hour endurance races in which we would take turns driving the same car. The weekend was intended as a celebration of sorts, a recognition of the unexpected positions we, a trio of guys in our mid-50s, have found ourselves in.
We got to know each other some 25 years ago while scraping nickels together to build and race cheap production-based economy cars in local Sports Car Club of America events. We shared equipment, advice, and labor before trying to beat each other on the track. One of the things that drew us together was our common gratitude. The people prowling the pits during any amateur race weekend always represent a wide range of fortunes, and we were in the barely-able-to-afford-it camp. Since we’d all come from modest means, just being there was our win, and we knew it.
Families and careers largely paused our joint racing activities until this year, when we rented the Mustang for Watkins Glen. The rental came with luxuries like a pit crew, spare tires, and an air-conditioned trailer. Whoo-ahh! Remember, we reminisced, when we were lying in a muddy field to change an engine?
So, a celebration for being together, for racing, and for reaching the point in our lives where we had the dough to pay for it. And then I got in the car.
As I rode in the ambulance back to the pits, I predicted what would happen when I faced my buddies. They shrugged and said, “Eh, it happens. That’s racing.” Unquestioned forgiveness. I would do the same. We share a car because we trust each other, and I’ve never crashed this hard in 25 years of competing. The question I couldn’t answer in that ambulance was: Could I forgive myself?
Good racing mechanics can fix almost anything with astonishing speed. As the crew mulled over a game plan, I silently prayed they’d decide that the car wasn’t fixable, and I could escape immediately. I was THAT GUY, the one who’d caused the trouble. An hour after impact, however, they’d already secured replacement parts and were tearing apart the front end of the car. I repeatedly apologized and sulked around the garage.
A question burned in my mind: Could I practice what I preach? Earlier this year, my 21-year-old son slid a car off-track into a gravel trap. I watched, silently celebrating: He’d found the limit, a perfect learning opportunity. He returned spouting brutally harsh words about himself that I’d never heard before, stuff like “I’m worthless” and “how could I be so stupid.” That was upsetting to hear. I’m grateful he’s no narcissist but beating yourself up like that accomplishes nothing.
My son and I share a 35-year-old Spec Racer Ford, a dedicated track car that’s worth maybe 10 grand. We can fix it, I told him, so drive it like you stole it. Also, I’ve repeatedly admonished, crashing is part of racing. After his off-track excursion I told him not to be so hard on himself. He’s not reckless and mistakes happen. Move on. And, of course, so should I.
The next day, I told my friends that I was moving on but didn’t want them to think my smiling and joking around meant I didn’t understand how my actions affected them. Roughly 24 hours after impact, the car was back on track for the last qualifying sessions. While we missed a lot of practice time, we made both weekend races and even notched a top ten finish. It wasn’t the weekend we envisioned, but perhaps it was a richer one all the same.
I brought the wrinkled Mustang fender home. I’m not sure if it’s a reminder of a bad experience or a positive reminder to my entire family that we’re all human and screw up now and then.
In this space, I frequently ask you to support Hagerty’s free media efforts by joining the Hagerty Drivers Club. Membership includes a bi-monthly magazine, full access to Hagerty Valuation tools, events, discounts, and more. One of my favorite benefits is the roadside assistance, which I was thankful to have this past weekend. While driving back to Ann Arbor from Watkins Glen Sunday night, a tire blew. Naturally, I was in a remote area of New York state, 15 miles east of Jamestown. I called Hagerty roadside, and my car was on a flatbed within an hour. Whew. It’s great to have friends on call.
Have a great weekend!
Larry
P.S.: Your feedback and comments are welcome.
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Turn 6 is the scariest corner at the Glen, I think. You run over that little crest at great speed, and are looking downhill at that bank and tire wall, eek, and the corner workers there are calmly watching you put your life on the line. Glad you didn’t hurt yourself. My big wreck was at Turn 9, a tough corner to read, my first race there, went in with everybody else and ended up knocking a guardrail post out of the ground and breaking my shoulder blade. Oof. Bent the frame over about six inches, broke the case on the transmission, broke the engine block, put blue guardrail paint three inches up the windshield post. But except for that, Mrs. Lincoln, the Glen is so much fun, so fast.
Thank you Bob. I love that track. I’d vote scariest is Turn 3, depending on the car….crest that hill at well over 100 and the wall is right there at the track out point. Wowie!
Larry what a weekend you had. Sorry to hear of your crash. But you and your team and two long time friends pull together and finished in the top ten!!! Over the next months you will probably relive those moments many many times. By this Spring you’ll figure out what is a head for driving passions!
3 years ago this month, I lost my “ hobby car “ of 27 years in a crash.
I was slightly injured, the car was totalled.
Hit a tree on the drives door .
Man I miss that car. The silver lining is two fold. 1. I wasn’t seriously hurt and the passenger door opened normally…
2. As a result of the XRay that the emergency dr. Insisted on, a large tumour was discovered that had no symptoms.
That MK IV Supra saved my life… twice.
Holy smokes!!!!! What a tale. That Supra was a special car….
Larry, I feel your pain. It was a number of years ago but I was racing a 1968 race prepared Corvette at the Grattan Raceway track in Michigan. The car was owned by good friends of mine and they so graciously let me tag along and race their car. On my first lap of the two day events, I spun the car on the tight right after going about 120mph down the straight. I could see the giant truck tires looming dead ahead and just couldn’t get it slowed enough to navigate the turn. I ended up hitting the back end of the car against the tires, bending the trailing arm on the right and sending fiberglass flying… UGH. The worst part was seeing my friends in the pits when the car was towed in.
We tried to fix it so they could race, but it wasn’t fixable that weekend. I felt horrible, I had let them down because I made a mistake and was probably going too fast. It was a long drive home. But, I wasn’t hurt and lived to race another day. Crashes are part of racing, we just pray that we don’t get hurt… Your article obviously hit home with me. Glad you were ok, and you have the right attitude about what racing is all about.
Keep having fun, and it’s great you get to have that experience with your son.
Humans make mistakes, that is how we learn. Glad you are ok.
Enjoyed the crash article, it brought back memories of days with SCCA racers. I used to provide towing services at various events. The passion n comraderie n competitive environment was unique. We would tow them in n other competitors would be waiting to see what they needed. Even Paul Newman could be real upset waiting for us to hook him for the tow to Bob Sharps garage. We got see the real racer that was intrigued with the sport
So the Pottery Barn – ‘You break it. You bought it’- rule applies? Parts+ Labor = subtotal + Tax = Total Due. – ‘ So lets say.. just for the sake of argument..that I was to pay all cash. And treat you and the guys to dinner and drinks at Seneca Lodge. You know, a bonus for the extra effort . How much then?
Sorry about the crash, glad it didn’t ruin you weekend. I’ve done a small amount of racing and have some idea how much work this involves. Nowadays I only do sim racing. I can turn off crash damage!
( ps ) – The Crooked Fish Pub, formerly The Crooked Rooster , right on the main drag (Franklin Street ) has a nice menu to go along with their craft beers. Try to get a window seat. When heading north, look for the old red English telephone booth soon after The Glen, then hang a quick right for nearby parking.
Thanks for the tip!
Well, it is much better to run into the dirt than a wall.
Here is a short compilation of our off track excursions at 24 Hours of Lemons Buttonwillow:
https://youtu.be/ZWvPpDwS8P4?si=HN9E4AqPXqY3yGmz
That is four different drivers taking the car off track. The third fourth excursion was complete brake failure! A little hard to make the turn.
Thanks for sharing! Oh man, you guys ate some dust. Sounds like a V-8 in an E30? Must be fun. Goof for you for getting folks out there!
Enjoy the Friday email. Keep up the good work!
Couldn’t find the video, Larry!
Huh. Try this link: https://www.hagerty.com/media/never-stop-driving/never-stop-driving-119-crash/
It was at the Glen and going into 6 on an out lap when the student I was riding with suddenly accelerated exactly when he knew to brake!
In an instant we were backwards in 6! Our trajectory took us hard into the outside tire wall,of the “laces” of “the boot.” What was unusual here was the engine was still wide open! It was bouncing off the limiter!
Instinctively, my left hand was palming the panel for the key. But surprise, surprise the key was on the other side of the steering wheel! That realization prompted the most frantic turn-the-key-off motions I’ve ever made!
While it seemed like it took a lifetime, only seconds later we were sitting there backwards and in silence. We were soundly up against the outside tire wall with a view up to the station with the black flag waving.
In the moments before the medical team arrived, the answer to our predicament revealed itself. I watched in astonishment as my driver tried to extract his boot from between the gas and brake pedal!
Just before our last session of the of day, the temperature had dropped as it does in the fall at the Glen’s hilltop venue. We had all gone to warmer gear. Driving shoes were replaced, in my driver’s case, with oversized thermal boots.
Yes, now you know!
Still, no one wants to be that guy. My driver was naturally bummed out. In our ride to the Elmira airport for his rental vehicle, I did my best to repair his spirit. He was hurting. I was hurting for him, too!
A car can be repaired or even replaced. It’s a different story for the driver’s psyche! But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Going down into the “boot” will never get old. But other moments including rewarding ones, will replace it.
I think you know Larry, it’s why we stay the course, even after being that guy!
Well said. Thanks for the story!
Turn six. From what I could tell from your video. I was preached to by my SCDA instructor Bill, (RIP) really LATE apex, SLOW hands through the turn. Gently squeeze throttle after straightening out. It is very easy to get caught out at six if not familiar enough with the Glen. Turn nine can also bite you hard. Not a lot of runoff. Glad you are ok, is the most important thing. And the car was fixable. Keep the stories coming.
Larry. Love your work. So humble, so honest so insightful so informative. Been a member for many years. Read the mag cover to cover. Keep it up