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OWW! Track Communication
10/28/2015 |
So, picture it. Dover, Delaware in September of 1991. It’s the Splitfire Spark Plugs 500, and it’s my first live race. I’d seen the on TV of course, but this was my first with my butt in the seat. In the seats with us were some friends we had camped with, along with my father and his wife.
Little did I know that I was about to learn what is possible the strangest form of communication known to man. That communication, my friends, is Trackside Communications. Trackside Communications, or TC as we’ll call it for space and speed, is its own language. It cannot be taught, but it can be learned, mimicked, and shared. Heck, half the time you make it up on your own as you go along.
Under caution, it’s almost non-existent.
Now, in the first hundred laps of that race, I was introduced to TC. Davey Allison, my favorite back then, was in the lead and pulling away. My father turned to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned, I got my first lesson. He held up two fingers, and then eight fingers. Then he gently put his hands together and his right hand moved forward in a motion which quickly relegated his left hand into a distant second place.
So, I processed those movements, and I quickly determined that my father had noticed that Davey was pulling away from the field just as I had. Unfortunately, it would not be Davey’s day as after leading the 1st through 114th lap, a broken crankshaft took him out of the race on lap 115. A Quick note: I did get my Davey Allison win in person, however. It was Richmond in 1993, Davey’s last victory.)
I got my second lesson later that day. My father once again got my attention, but this time it was a harder hit on the leg, and when I looked in his direction he gave me my newest vocabulary in TC. He held up three fingers, and then held them up again. Then, in the strangest thing I probably saw at a race track, he made a fist with his left hand, but it was turned a quarter turn to the left and his thumb nail faced the sky. His right hand was also a fist but this one was turned in so his palm, had it been exposed, faced his chest. And then came the motion. He began to circle his right wrist, and I got it. Ol’ Handsome Highline Harry was reeling in Geoff Bodine for the lead.
TC continued to grow and evolve throughout the years, and the relay of the message began to hurt more and more, depending on how excited the sender was about getting his or her message to the receiver, and as times get more and more extreme, as does TC. Take for instance, the final example I will give you. Now, I’m not sure of the year, and I’m not sure of the victim, but it was probably either Mark Martin or Rusty Wallace. My sister had long since been bitten by the NASCAR bug and had been going to races for a few years. She was a Jeff Gordon fan early, and during the Championship years, while my dad didn’t really think that he had paid his dues.
Anyway, whatever heinous track crime was committed; it had to be Jeff Gordon’s fault. And this is where the Webster version of TC met the Urban Dictionary version. My father, face red, reached across his wife and whacked my sister on the arm about three times. When she winced and eventually turned towards him, he did three things:
Track Communication at its best!
Little did I know that I was about to learn what is possible the strangest form of communication known to man. That communication, my friends, is Trackside Communications. Trackside Communications, or TC as we’ll call it for space and speed, is its own language. It cannot be taught, but it can be learned, mimicked, and shared. Heck, half the time you make it up on your own as you go along.
Under caution, it’s almost non-existent.
Now, in the first hundred laps of that race, I was introduced to TC. Davey Allison, my favorite back then, was in the lead and pulling away. My father turned to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned, I got my first lesson. He held up two fingers, and then eight fingers. Then he gently put his hands together and his right hand moved forward in a motion which quickly relegated his left hand into a distant second place.
So, I processed those movements, and I quickly determined that my father had noticed that Davey was pulling away from the field just as I had. Unfortunately, it would not be Davey’s day as after leading the 1st through 114th lap, a broken crankshaft took him out of the race on lap 115. A Quick note: I did get my Davey Allison win in person, however. It was Richmond in 1993, Davey’s last victory.)
I got my second lesson later that day. My father once again got my attention, but this time it was a harder hit on the leg, and when I looked in his direction he gave me my newest vocabulary in TC. He held up three fingers, and then held them up again. Then, in the strangest thing I probably saw at a race track, he made a fist with his left hand, but it was turned a quarter turn to the left and his thumb nail faced the sky. His right hand was also a fist but this one was turned in so his palm, had it been exposed, faced his chest. And then came the motion. He began to circle his right wrist, and I got it. Ol’ Handsome Highline Harry was reeling in Geoff Bodine for the lead.
TC continued to grow and evolve throughout the years, and the relay of the message began to hurt more and more, depending on how excited the sender was about getting his or her message to the receiver, and as times get more and more extreme, as does TC. Take for instance, the final example I will give you. Now, I’m not sure of the year, and I’m not sure of the victim, but it was probably either Mark Martin or Rusty Wallace. My sister had long since been bitten by the NASCAR bug and had been going to races for a few years. She was a Jeff Gordon fan early, and during the Championship years, while my dad didn’t really think that he had paid his dues.
Anyway, whatever heinous track crime was committed; it had to be Jeff Gordon’s fault. And this is where the Webster version of TC met the Urban Dictionary version. My father, face red, reached across his wife and whacked my sister on the arm about three times. When she winced and eventually turned towards him, he did three things:
- Put up two fingers.
- Put up four fingers.
- Put up ONE finger.
Track Communication at its best!
Until next time, my friends...
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