PBW: MCF's Day of Thunder

This past Sunday, I took Photo Blog Wednesday on the road as I traveled with some friends to the Pocono 500. I'd never seen a NASCAR race before, and was certain even the trip to and from the race would provide good photo opportunities. And so, at 7:30 AM, I and three others were on our way from New York to Pennsylvania.






Even stopping for fuel for both the car and our stomachs, the trip took less than three hours with a speedy friend at the wheel. Once we reached our exit however, we found that a two lane road had been changed into a one way road with three lanes, and it would take almost an hour before the raceway was in sight.



While we waited, I took the opportunity to take one of my trademark vague self-portraits, catching some interesting reflections while trying out my friend's racing goggles.



At last we arrived, finding a spot on a vast field of countless other cars, trucks, and mobile homes. In many instances people were camped out, with tents, barbecues and beverages.



I would hang on to my ticket stub that day, unlike the Pearl Jam experience I shared yesterday.



In racing, the higher the seats, the better the view. Those on the lower levels miss the cars whizzing by on the outside of the track, because they're too close to the wall. At 11:30AM, the stands were still clear as well, but that would soon change. It was also windy and very cold for June, and so none of us would use the sunblock we had with us.





A massive crowd with pit passes got a better view of the vehicles prior to the race.




The pre-race festivities included speeches from members of our armed forces, a barbershop quartet singing a medley of old-timey tunes, including the now rarely-heard introductory verses to God Bless America, and of course a giant motorized shopping cart.



Each of the 40 drivers participating that day were introduced, as statistics appeared on the giant screens at either side of the track. They then rode out on the back of jeeps to greet the crowd. Below, several wave, including Dale Earnhardt, Jr.




Soon the race was underway. For the next four hours I would learn the best ways to capture images of fast moving vehicles, witness some scrapes, and some cars too damaged to continue.





As the storm clouds gathered, perhaps from far across the sea, I turned to a magical silver bullet to distract myself from the cold, my stiff back, and my claustrophobia.



And here's a different silver bullet witnessed shortly afterwards:



I began to get the hang of moving my camera with the cars as they passed by, to get the best shots






Of course at their top speeds, most cars flew past in the blink of an eye.



As impressive as the vehicular speeds were, the pit crew amazed me as well. Within seconds tires were changed, fuel was added, and a crowd of mechanics moved out of the way even as the driver peeled out to rejoin the battle.










For fifty bucks, one of my friends rented a device that tied in to several of the cameras mounted on drivers cars, the announcers, and various statistics. In photographing it, I accidentally caught yet another vague self-portrait with layers of reflections.




The crowd was massive:



Dale Earnhardt, Jr.:



Below we see Jeff Gordon's car in the pit. A little over half the crowd booed when he was introduced at the start of the race, and one of my friends who follows NASCAR regularly explained his reputation as a young hotshot. Later in the race he'd do something else that wouldn't add to his popularity...



As the 500 mile, 200 lap race neared to a finish, things were getting close. It seemed rookie Denny Hamlin had a good chance at winning and a decent lead, recovering after a hit earlier in the race.



With 8 laps remaining, Jeff Gordon took a turn too quickly and smashed his car into the wall, taking out three sections of it. It happened too far away for me to get more than a picture of it on the monitor, and while he was unharmed, the race had to be put on hold while crew's replaced the styrofoam wall panels and peeled Gordon's car from the track.



The other racers were lined up in the order they were in at the time of the accident, but this meant the distance Hamlin had ahead of the other drivers had closed. Once the race resumed, he'd have to pour on the speed and stay ahead of the vehicles now directly behind him.




Miraculously, the clouds that had formed parted in one area as the sun burned through. It was as though God Himself was peeking down at the race. It was also as if deadly UV radiation was burning a quartet of unsuspecting yankees.



In the final lap, the results were certain and Hamlin had a good lead.



The other drivers pulled in to the pit as Hamlin took a checkered flag and drove a victory lap around the track in the opposite direction.



Here he joins the others in the pit as the final results are displayed:



As we shuffled out with the rest of the heard, I noticed an interesting sign on the building directly behind the stands.



I took one last look at the structure from which I watched my first race, where we'd all gotten some bad burns. One of my friends had recently shaved his head down to stubble, and would suffer the worst burns on his scalp. I'm somewhat red faced, but healing. It's not the first time I've burned, foolishly so, and it probably won't be the last.



A handheld GPS device brought by one of our party helped us locate our vehicle out in the emptying field.



The rest of the evening consisted of a quest to find Easton, where our Comfort Inn would be, and the GPS saved the day when we got lost. After checking in, we headed out for an awesome steak dinner at the Lone Star Steakhouse, where I would enjoy steak soup as an appetizer to my steak, a filet mignon wrapped in bacon served with steak fries. Last night, the treadmill at work screamed in agony when I climbed back on after being away from the gym for a few days. After dinner, it was a quick stop to pick up some aloe for our faces before crashing. I caught a rerun of House, possibly the first episode, in which Prison Break's Robin Tunney plays a teacher diagnosed with a brain tumor, until House deduces that because she had ham in her house, a tapeworm has embedded itself in her brain. This deduction is supported by her earlier response to a steroid treatment, as well as the fact that he makes amazing educated guesses that fuel his sarcasm and arrogance. I'm already two season's behind though, and have a ton of movies to see on DVD yet, so we'll see if the show makes it into my regular rotation next year. I drifted off to sleep in the middle of an episode of The 4400, another series I'd never seen about alien abductees returned to Earth with strange powers. The episode included Peter Coyote...briefly. There are so many shows, and so little time, and so much life to live in between.




The above photo should answer a recent inquiry from Wendy. The next morning I discovered an awesome set-up in the kitchen downstairs, a timed waffle iron accompanied by cups of batter, where guests could make their own waffles. It's a very small thing given the sights I had seen, but I was impressed when I lifted the grill and saw that big fluffy waffle.






While the other guys got ready, I took a walk around outside to check out the area in the daytime, and some of the locals.





We took the Outerbridge Crossing on our return trip, and I can't believe Eugenius H. Outerbridge is the real name of the guy from whom the bridge gets its designation.



I'm not sure, but I think at this point of our journey along the Belt Parkway we were leaving Brooklyn....



Back at the office parking lot where I'd left my own car the day before, I caught a few detailed shots of a Tent Caterpillar walking along the top of a trash receptacle. In trademark MCF fashion, I heard one of the guys say, “Oh, they're trash fans.” and I looked up to see a pretty girl giving me and the other guy with a camera crouched over the garbage an odd look.



The weekend is behind me and I'm already back into my hectic work schedule, though a bit more rested and focused after a fun vacation. I left several voice mail messages from the track, simply holding up my phone as the cars whizzed by. One is on my phone at work, one is on my parent's cell phone, and yet another is on my friend Rey's phone. Rey missed the trip because apparently Pennsylvania is huge and he lives on the opposite end of the state. He had other concerns that day however, as a cryptic voicemail with nothing but screams and engine noises led him to believe his parents called him while dying in some horrific crash, leading him to frantically call them and then his brother when he couldn't reach them. As for me, the day may be over but the images and sounds still remain.