The cruel, hot summerThis has been a very cruel summer. On 17 July, Formula One pilot Jules Bianchi (1989-2015) succumbed to injuries sustained nine months earlier, 5 October 2014, during the Japanese Grand Prix. Two days ago, on 24 August, IndyCar pilot Justin Wilson (1978-2015) succumbed to injuries sustained the day before, 23 August 2015, during the Pocono 500.
led into the long, hard fall,
becoming the dark, killing winter
until spring replenished us all.
From the moment I became a fan of motorsports, I knew it was only a matter of time 'til I saw a man die, 'til a driver perished in a race I was watching. This almost happened on 16 October 2011, when double Indy 500 winner Dan Wheldon (1978-2011) died in the IndyCar season finale at Las Vegas, but by the grace of God I was busy that day & decided not to watch the race. This post is titled "Triskaidekaphobia" because I've been putting off writing it for two years, since the first time I watched a driver die in a race.
triskaidekaphobia, n., \ˌtris-ˌkī-ˌde-kə-ˈfō-bē-ə\ fear of the number thirteenOn 22 June 2013, Allan Simonsen (1978-2013) died during the third lap of the 24 Heures du Mans (Wayback Machine). His G.T.E. Am.-class car was not on camera when he crashed, but the wrecked machine was later shown. I've seen drivers climb out of more badly mangled race cars, but in this sad case the damage was precisely what was required to extinguish a young life full of promise. The great race continued, in accordance with the Simonsen family's wishes, but as one of his fellow drivers remarked, the tragedy has "taken the fun out of it." That was a long, sad day.
On 15 October 2013, G.T. pilot Sean Edwards (1986-2013), whom I'd seen race in the American Le Mans Series & the Grand Am Sports Car Series (since merged as the United SportsCar Championship), died in another man's crash: Edwards was riding along, instructing another driver, who crashed their Porsche. Many drivers supplement the often meager race purses they win by working as ride-along instructors, teaching others the fine art of motorcar racing. This is even more dangerous than racing for a living & requires a driver to place his life in another man's hands. I was not watching when Edwards died, but I had seen him race mere weeks earlier.
A similar death occurred earlier this year, on 12 April 2015, when an instructor, Gary Terry (1978-2015), died in a Lamborghini at Walt Disney World's Exotic Driving Experience, when the driver he was instructing crashed: Associated Press-link.
On 15 November 2013, off-road motorcycle rider Kurt Caselli (1982-2013) died while leading the Baja 1,000. I only learned of the death in January '14, when it was mentioned during the coverage of that year's Dakar Rally. I'd first encountered Caselli during the 2013 Dakar, when as a rookie, riding in place of injured then triple & currently quintuple Dakar champion Marc Coma, Caselli captured two stage wins, a most impressive Dakar debut.
On 6 October 2013, triple Indy 500 winner Dario Franchitti (b. 1973) was involved in a particularly violent crash at the Houston street circuit. Franchitti survived, thank goodness, & has recovered from most of his injuries, but due to concussion symptoms he retired from motor racing. He is still involved with IndyCar, as an out-of-the-car driver coach, & whenever he is interviewed the desire still to be behind the wheel is evident, though wisely he has not gone against medical advice. I've seen innumerable collisions & crashes in the six years I've been watching motorsports, most of them spectacular, many of them paying tribute to the great advances in safety that have been made since the bad old days when the specter of death was a regular feature at the world's circuits. I've seen many close escapes like Franchitti's, many wrecks that in years & decades past would have snuffed out lives. I've seen drivers walk away grinning from smoldering wrecks, from twisted hulks of gaily hued carbon fiber, metal, & rubber. But not always. Thunder & damnation, not always!
On 19 July 2009, Formula Two pilot Henry Surtees (1991-2009) died at Brands Hatch. He was the son of F1 World Champion John Surtees, the only man to win world championships in both motorcycle & automobile racing. Young Surtees's death is the first I can recall in the period of my motorsports fandom. He died after being struck in the helmet by a wheel that bounced back into the circuit after another driver crashed.
This summer has been unusually cruel, with two open-wheel deaths in six weeks. Bianchi's death was the first in F1 in twenty-one years, since the terrible weekend at Imola in '94 when both Roland Ratzenberger (1960-1994) & triple World Champion Ayrton Senna (also 1960-1994) died in separate crashes—Ratzenberger on 30 April 1994, during qualifying for the San Marino Grand Prix; Senna on 1 May 1994, during the race itself. (Senna, a Brazilian patriot, often displayed a Brazilian flag during the cool down lap following his victories; I've read that at the time he perished he was carrying an Austrian flag inside his car, which he planned to display during the cool down lap in Ratzenberger's honor.) Bianchi crashed under unusual circumstances. The grand prix was under caution because another driver, Adrian Sutil, had already gone off track & crashed. (Sutil was unhurt.) As the yellow caution flags waved, a recovery vehicle went out to remove Sutil's stricken car from where it posed a danger to any other driver who might also go off track. Bianchi lost control of his car at almost the same spot as Sutil & collided with the recovery vehicle. Bianchi fought for nine months, but he never regained consciousness. His death was mourned for his youth & unfulfilled potential, for many described him as a future world champion.
The shock & sadness of Wilson's death is still raw. His was the first death in IndyCar since Wheldon's. The current IndyCar chassis, the DW12, is named in Wheldon's honor. Wilson's death also marked the first time I saw the fatal collision. He didn't crash his car, but was struck in the helmet by flying debris from another driver's crash. I saw him interviewed the day before, during qualifying; he was his usual charming self.
I've hesitated to write this post for so long after Simonsen's death because I didn't know what to say. I still don't know what to say, but now I know I don't have to say anything. Nothing of grand significance need be said. These men died doing what they loved, each man pursuing his life's passion. We who cannot do what they did love what they were able to do, love the sport they loved, the glory for which they were willing to chance their lives. The words of the Gettysburg Address spring to mind. "The world will little note, nor long remember what" I write here. What these men have done is "far above [my] poor power to add or detract." If we throw up our hands in disgust & forsake motor racing, only then they will have died in vain. If we know longer honor the men who win the races they died contesting, only then they will have died in vain. They considered the prizes for which they contested worth the risk of life & limb. Who are we to disagree? Who are we to dishonor their choice? We need only remember them, need only remember they way in which they lived & died. We need only mourn them, keep their souls, their widows, & their fatherless children in our prayers.
I pray that I will never again mourn another driver who dies in a race I am watching, but I know today, even more than I've ever known before, that the Lord in His infinite mercy will not also answer this prayer as I wish. Yet I bow to His wisdom, which is infinitely greater than mine.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "The Day He Didn't Die" from Pay Attention (Mike Papa Whiskey)
Skammentary:
"And how I loved how he lived,Dienstag, 25. August
How he was loved and admired,
A knack, a certain flair for life,
And how he had it wired!
He'd never give up, he wouldn't give in,
He had a wonderful way of living.
"There's not been a day, one hasn't gone by,
When I don't think about the day he didn't die.
"I really miss him,
He would have loved this,
I hope he can hear me…"
Michael Giacchino, "Tragic Story of Rex Racer" from Speed Racer: Original Motion Picture Score (Mike Papa Whiskey)
Commentary: Absolutely no disrespect is meant toward Messers. Wilson or Bianchi, nor any of their fallen brethren, but this is the song that came to mind when I learned of Wilson's death on Monday night. Requiescat in pace.
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