Heat exhaustion at VIR (NBC)

[Hal Copple]

I upshifted into fifth, stayed hard on the throttle, and the big stroked V8 continued to snarl as it pulled hard past 145 mph, beginning the gentle climb at the end of the back straight of VIR’s south course. But as the sharp right angle turn approached, I realized that I was closing way too fast on a slower car, and it was about to be critical that I do something to avoid running right up into his trunk. Fed all the brake line pressure I could to the Wilwoods, and put the nose of my car down hard and held on tight as the PS2’s grabbed for all the grip they could muster. Felt my car give a gentle wiggle as my speed dropped, and as I flashed by the corner worked, wondered if he realized that my abrupt deceleration was caused by my rapidly mounting mental and physical exhaustion from the heat, rather than being an example of skilled driving.

As soon as I cleared the corner, came to my senses and decided it was past time to pit and get out the car, if I wasn’t capable of better decisions that I had just made, so slowed down thru the Carousel and then Fishhook, then feeling that vomiting was only seconds away, flipped up my visor, and tried to pull my helmet down, wondering if I could clear the front of my helmet. Coasted around the Oak Tree, then after giving my pit signal, turned in and glided to my parking spot behind the tower. Yanked up on the Simpson quick release, stepped out, pulling my helmet off, and bent over and waited to see if I was going to lose my breakfast.

I had been anxiously looking forward to the club’s VIR event, as I had not driven there at speed in several years. Plus, meeting many of my old friends for a track weekend was just going to be icing on the cake. It would be the first time on my new Viperesque PS2’s, and I felt reassured by their reputed speed tolerance. Began my track preparations a few days before, dropping in the PF 97 front pads, replacing the V belt, new Denso plugs, Castrol SRF, new clutch lines, and packing all the usual trip/track things, spares, tools, race wear, video system, alternator, and other sundry necessities.

The day before the event, ran north to meet up with an old friend, and after Mike and his wife prepped their car and fed me lunch, we were off, skirting Lowes Motor Speedway, as the 600 mile race was starting later, and traffic on I-85 was simply not for us. So we cut crosscountry, later picking up I-40 east, then turned northward on 29, and soon left that to again run the rural back roads to Danville, where the hotel was for the event. The drive was hot under the sun, but we saw few other cars, and pushed hard past the fields and forests, following the colonial pathways of times gone by.

Arrived at our hotel, and renewed many friendships, chomped down on too much pepperoni pizza and Diet Coke, and then watched the rainy Indy and then the 600 in Charlotte, and late to bed. Up early, wanted to get to the track to tank up on race gas before the driver’s meeting, but in a few minutes, heard an new engine sound, so pulled into a gas station, raised the hood, and found my new V belt had flipped, and even come off the damper pulley, fortunately running on the spacer, loose, but tight enough to at least turn the water pump, fortunately. Grabbed a spare belt and a few sockets, and in less than five minutes, had the new belt on, and was back on the road, suffering only minor burns from the headers.

Tanked up with 100 octane at 8 bucks a gallon, and at the driver’s meeting, myself and several others were volunteered as instructors. Pulled on my full Simpson suit, snapped on my neck brace, pushed the radio up under my helmet, and took out my first candidate, cruising to explain what I knew of the course. Then several more, then with sweat soaking my Simpson, made a few laps myself, getting a feel for the track and my new tires. It was miserably hot. As the morning went on, tried to drink as much water as possible, but began to feel really fatigued, and not a little nauseated. But still ran a few more laps, then with a student in my car, we had to sit under the sun for about ten minutes for a session to end, and I could scarcely keep up with a cloth, I was sweating so profusely there in the pits. Went out again, but told my student that we had run enough, and came in after a few laps.

Then ran my own nearly fateful lap, and after staggering over to a bench under a tent, laid down, after struggling to get part way out of my suit, which was almost too wet to get over my shoulders. I couldn’t hardly move, I was dizzy and sick, and decided I needed to desperately cool down, or I was about to be in some serious trouble from heat exhaustion. Staggered over to the south tower, and “went reptile”, laying down on the cold tiles of the floor, trying to cool down. Tried to drink, but was too nauseated to tolerate anything down my throat.

Later, felt a bit better, ran several laps, but the heat wilted me again, and I was unable to focus on my driving, missing apexes and shifting poorly, so once pitted and again crawled back to the picnic table, and when Mike came over to see how I was doing, since my responses to his inquiries didn’t seem to make sense, he dumped his cooler of ice water over me, which seemed to help me come to my senses. Since he soon needed to leave early, I struggled to re-pack my car, just wedging what I could here and there into the trunk and cockpit, then belted up, and at his suggestion, poured water all over me, and we left, with the cooling effect of the wind on my soaked shirt helping me think clearly enough to stay in my lane, although my headache seemed to feel every tiny vibration coming thru the tires. Soon found a rural gas station, and several bottles of Gatoraide really seemed make my brain swell back up to its normal size, and I began to feel better.

Several hours later, waved off Mike and Pat, and continued on home, where just after dark pulled into the garage, propped open the hood to let the motor cool, and came in.

It had been a really long, really bad day. I spent a year in the Mekong Delta in ’71-’72 as an infantry advisor, 6 months in the Saudi desert for the first Iraqi war, and live in South Carolina. I have never had a problem with heat at all. But I think wearing all my race clothing and the 96 degree heat was just too much for me, and I had a bad case of heat exhaustion.

My thinking and focus, my driving and decisions were greatly affected by my physical impairment, and even worse, once a “heat casualty”, one’s susceptibility to a repeat is great, so I will have to be careful and patient, if I am to run in the heat of the summer again. I have not failed to track wearing all my protective gear for years, but if the next event is as hot as this one was, I may just wear a shirt like most drivers do, because I have seen for myself how heat exhaustion can make for dangerous track decisions. It is easy to say “drink more water”, but nausea can make that impossible.

Sometimes, you just have to accept the fact that safety insists that you come in and wait for another day to hone your driving skills.

It has taken most of the week to get over my intense fatigue.

All the best

hal copple