I need to preface this by saying that I did not see the actual collision. I should also say that eyewitness accounts are a strange thing, and mine may differ a bit from some news accounts – that doesn’t speak to the truth or falsity of anything, just they’re different. The truth is usually somewhere in between.
I was on the asphalt behind the South Vista Section 5 grandstand, helping my buddy look for something he’d let slip through the grandstands. It was a few minutes before the start of one of the support races, the Moriwaki Honda spec series – it was the warm-up lap, so I had a couple of minutes before the green flag dropped.
Collective crowd reactions are always powerful – when a few hundred, or a thousand people all do something at once, it commands attention. So when an entire grandstand of people goes “WHOA!” you look up. The screen across the track didn’t show anything, so I showed my ticket and climbed the couple of stairs to the landing in front of the bleachers.
There were two bikes down on track, and two riders had gone down. One was up and walking away, the other lying slightly crumpled against the curbing that runs down the track, 50 yards beyond the turn four exit.
He’s not moving.
First, some of the track personnel arrived, carrying a sling stretcher and a grey medical box. They kneeled, starting to check him out. An older couple who I think were the grandparents of the eventual second place finisher asked me,
“Is this real or are they just practicing?”
“It’s for real,” I replied. “Two riders collided.”
He’s still not moving.
By then, the second rider had been led away and the bikes had been pushed off. More track personnel arrived, carrying a backboard. Then one of those Cushman’s with the ATV wheels showed up with a gurney in the back. They unloaded the gurney. One of the medical personnel had trouble getting her end to lock up; a strap had caught one of the wheels.
He’s still not moving.
They lift him on the gurney. Somewhere in between the back board and the gurney, they had put an ambu bag on him and started chest compressions. The announcer is still spouting inanities about how they’ll get started soon, wonders aloud why Lenz hasn’t returned to the grid. I just wanted him to shut up.
F&^k.
The ambulance arrives and they load him in, still doing CPR. I know that the hospital is only a couple of minutes away. The whole episode seems like an eternity, although it was probably less than 10 minutes.
The race does start, and the 12-16 year olds do some great racing. Some are truly fast – I expect I’ll see the kid who won in the top ranks of the sport some day. I keep checking my phone to see if there’s any news. Eventually, the Indianapolis Star is the first to report that he had died.
F&^k.
The thing is, we always expect them to get up. Even when they’re truly injured, we expect a weak thumbs-up as they’re being loaded on the gurney, and the crowd cheers.
Except Peter Lenz never got up.
Now the tough part…
I imagine there’s going to be a lot said about how he should have never been out there, that the very idea of a 12-16 year age bracket in motor racing is ludicrous. One thing, though – if someone is going to be at the top levels of motorsport in their twenties, when their reflexes and physical conditioning are at their peak, that’s when they have to be on track in some sort of lower-tier series.
Practical considerations aside, I happened to see a panel of four or five of the kids discussing their life as racers in the vendor area on Saturday. Lenz may have been among them, I don’t know. They responded to the announcer’s questions of whether it was difficult to keep up with their chores and other responsibilities. I remember one responding that they were having a house built, so they had been in their motorhome and race trailer for the last for months, so it was pretty easy to keep it tidy. The kids all seemed bright and engaging, and it was apparent that they were racers. To the core. Some things you do because you have to. Some things you do because you have some ability to do so. And some things you do because you absolutely love to, and would rather be doing nothing else. Each of these kids absolutely exuded that.
I’m not really sure there’s a point to this. I guess the best I can say is that if you happen to give any thought to Ayrton Senna, or Dale Earnhardt, or Jeremy Lusk, spare a thought for Peter Lenz too – he was another racer who was cut down before he could really show the world what he had.
Monday, August 30, 2010
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