Montreal F1: Second Half

We woke up at 6 am! It was my goal to get to the track by 8, but girls are slow and even though we drove (instead of bussed) to the metro, we still only got there by 8:15. On the way we stopped to get lunch, and I decided that the F1 directions posted in the metro were really nice and must be reused every year - so I shouldn't steal one to take home. Getting there at 8:15 meant that the first spot we wanted was full, but the second spot we wanted still had room enough for chairs in the third row. Since there was a hill, this wasn't bad at all. We could even see two of the monitors depending on how we leaned, something that really adds a lot to the race.

I went down to the access road while nothing was happening, talked my way (very briefly) past security for a few pictures of the Porsches in staging, and then the engines started and the formula 1600's were racing (or as Ray calls them, "I don't know, I didn't look up.") The race was somewhat exciting, but I'm glad we started there and worked our way up. Interestingly, the winner was only 16 years old.




The second race of the day was the Porsches. These GT3's flew around the track and taught us that we had chosen great seats. Just after the hairpin the drivers go full-throttle, and the continual misting which soaked the track made the final slight chicane of the lap before the back straightaway into a tricky proposition. What is the sound a car makes? If you said "Screeeeeeeeeeeeee-thunk" you'd be wrong. It actually sounds like "Scr-OOOOOOOooooooooooh didyouseethat" and sometimes "OOOOooo MOVE-THE-PORTAPOT" (it was right between us and the start of half the spins.) One of the Porsches even decided to go around twice before setting off again.

The Ferraris didn't fair much better. On the first lap we saw some getting loose with it, and the second lap had one of them skidding into the grass. One of the Italias went by missing a front corner (I wanted to take a picture of it, but it finished that lap and retired to the pits). A few more spun just down the track in the spot with the Porsche-magnet. Then, right in front of us (Ray: I saw it this time!) my favorite Ferrari (the prettiest graphics) put it into the wall just across from us, rear wheel hanging at a jaunty angle.

The safety car came out, the race calmed down, and the driver exited (to great applause from the stands on all 4 sides of his accident). The stewards decided the car was sufficiently out of the way, and the race restarted. The two cars in the lead turned it into a great performance, passing each other at least 8 times in the second half of the race - once right at our hairpin. It was such a great race that instead of the polite applause the winner of the Porsche and 1600 races got, there were loud cheers on each pass.


Finally, it was time for the formula one drivers parade. We cheered at the appropriate times, and I made Ray give up her makeshift blanket so we could scream KOBAYASHI! and wave the Japanese flag. He looked over at us, but his expression was less "Yay!" and more "Seriously?" Luckily I love him for his driving style and not his people skills.

As we waited, the rain began to pick up, a few showers starting amid the "heavy misting." Finally, we heard a lone formula one engine and saw - on the jumbotron - a car begin around on it's practice lap to form up on the grid. We all cheered. From where we were sitting, the track into the hairpin immediately opposite was concealed by a concrete barrier, so we saw a huge billowing rooster-tail as the loud bellow of the engine turned into a shriek. We all cheered.


The race started behind the safety car - the officials were too afraid to have a standing start for fear the cars would pile-up on the way into turn 1. Which is too bad, because I was counting on Ferrari to screw up the start.... After the warm-up lap the safety car, a Mercedes SLS which looks just-as-beautiful in the rain, lead them through a handful of laps (a handful means 4) in order to dry out the track, or at least the racing line. Ever impatient, the drivers were bouncing back and forth, swerving across the tarmac despite the rain, longing to get underway.

Finally, the safety car ducked (temporarily) back into the pits and the race was underway! The first two laps were looking good. Hamilton had lost a position, but Kobayashi had flew up the ranks, leapfrogging from thirteenth to ninth and into the points just as I had hoped. But then, only a few laps past, disaster struck. The showers turned into downpours, visibility lessened for the drivers, and Hamilton was hit - by Button. To make it worse Hamilton had to pull over and couldn't finish the race - despite my shouting "DON'T STOP DON'T STOP NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo" at the jumbotron. Last year, Red Bull pulled the same move and it was fantastic. This year it was heart-breaking.

The safety car came back out, the first of several such visits, and Jenson (Button) had to return to the pits for a new nose. Seeing the safety car, several other cars also dove into the pits to switch from intermediate (it's wet out) tires to full-wets (capable of diverting 66 liters of water per second). This showed the silver lining - Kobayashi managed to slide into second place! Then we saw the flags opposite us change from yellows with the SC sign to a red flag - the race was being stopped.


We spent the next two hours hoping they'd race again, cheering for the street-sweeper/vacuum, and chatting to the Ottawaians in front of us. Their motto for the weekend was "Do what you want in Montreal, but be careful what you want." Accordingly, they showed up to the racetrack still drunk at 7:30 that morning. Fun people. They and a Spaniard taught us how to make cheap beer palatable - add Tabasco sauce. Most of our seating neighbors had sat in the stands previous years, or in all the stands, and decided that it was more fun with a better view down with us. Another of our neighbors had a radio and kept us informed of the announcements as the rain intensified, filled our seats, and soaked both the track and our sleeves. On the up-side, our third row seats became first row seats!

Finally, they restarted the race, almost two hours late. A lap or two to dry the track with the safety car and they were released to do what they will. Button was a little too enthusiastic and passed the guy in front before the safety car came in, earning him a penalty and a spot at the back of the grid. For the next dozen laps, he advanced through the ranks while Kobayashi held off the Ferrari challenging him, meaning my prediction (McLaren on the podium, Kobayashi in the points) would be neatly reversed, and my heart was buoyed every time his white car streaked out from behind the barrier ahead of the Ferrari.

Eventually though, he managed to lose the position. Button, however, was driving like a man possessed, and eventually, in the last laps, slotted in to Kobyashi's old spot behind the first place driver. I was overjoyed! I watched the screens, ignoring the cars streaking past until they were the leaders, all attention fixed on the pair. In my head rang a continual chorus of "Don't crash, don't crash, just don't crash" when all of a sudden, on the 69th of 70 laps, Vettel - the leader - skidded off into the grass. It was a brief skid, but it was long enough for Button to devour the opportunity. Fingers latched on the chainlink fence, I was entirely focused on the screen. Even Ray was excited. All he had to do was hold position for one and a half laps. The pair, now in reversed positions, streaked past. I screamed some incoherent encouragement, and (almost surprisingly) he made it across the line without skidding, leading to many dejected Red Bull fans and some ecstatic Mclaren fans. I through both fists in the air. Down the fence a girl was dancing in circles.

We watched the victory lap and the podium presentation - where Button looked just as surprised and excited as the rest of us - before setting off to visit the McLaren tent and check out the SLS up close. Unfortunately, the tent was closed. But we did get to walk there across the track - which in my afterglow - was an amazing thing. The middle was dry from the sheer suction of the cars traversing it, while the edges were still dripping wet. I suppressed my urge to kneel down and kiss it, which is just as good given the forklifts that rolled by dangling f1 cars.

On the way to the metro, the weather gave up and soaked us - made worse by the traffic clogging the entrance. My top half stayed almost dry under a tent I made from the flag, but my bottom half - and both halves of Ray, were soaked.

On the metro ride home I saw two of the posters - the nice ones I wasn't going to steal - in the trash! So I took the less coffee-covered, less creased one and we metro'd back to the hotel, where we hung all our things to dry and took turns doing our best to exhaust the hotels hot water tanks.

We thought about going downtown to the bars, but were just too tired. I decided on Chinese, but after the fourth closed Chinese restaurant I revised my decision to an A&W place. The night's entertainment was Mythbusters - or for Ray, sleeping through Mythbusters.

This morning we left around 10:30 am to go home - after a free breakfast and my compulsively grabbing the free shampoo/soap/etc. We finished listening to Lord of the Rings, and I promised Ray I wouldn't write anything about her driving abilities (or lack thereof). Instead, I offer my mini-review of the Buick Century: Some things you expect to take a while to respond on a terrible car. Acceleration, for example. But window switches shouldn't take a few seconds to decide to open the window, especially not at the border station. And when you need a horn, you need it now. Not after a second of silence. I punched the steering wheel hard, and the only thing I heard was the slap of my fist against cheap pleather. If cash-for-clunkers had been limited to the Buick Century it would have been the best government program of all time.

The rest of the trip was pretty boring. We became experts at identifying roadkill, and based on skid marks and smear-size the type of vehicle involved. We even learned to ID various insects. Well, two of them at least. Red splat: mosquito. Glowing smear: even easier.

After getting to my car and nearly losing my car-keys, I set off from Harrisburg towards home. On the way I gave a hitchhiker a ride. His name was Jeffery, and he mentioned that he was glad one night when he had enough money to buy some soap. I offered him my bag (it was a freebie) and gave it to him with a small bill and the Klepto soap still in it. After I dropped him off in Gettysburg it occurred to me that he was practically Forest Gump; Shy but extremely talkative, the nicest boy you'd ever want to meet, and able to remember the date he visited each town for the past five years and what he had to eat there.

I finally got home just before 10, meaning today was 11 hours in the car. Which is alot.

(Ray insists I credit her for this photo)