Today’s NASCAR race in Bristol is on rain-delay, as I write this; three weeks ago we were at the Daytona 500, which was also rain-delayed.  So it’s the perfect time to reminisce and tell you the Rest of the Story of our 2014 Daytona 500 adventure. 🙂

Photo by The Guy With The Hard Card

Where I last left us in Part One of this story, we were standing under the cover of the speedway grandstands with our friends Tucker and Lisa, listening to the din of pouring rain thundering onto the aluminum grandstands.

It was incredibly crowded; 100,000 race fans in a mile-long grandstand are a LOT of people! Everyone scattered to take shelter, and we watched vehicles and people alike pass by us. We were on ground level, waiting for the pouring rain to let up.

The track had been lost long before now. By “lost”, I mean that there’s no hope of racing until the rain stops, and the jet dryers can do their job. If the rain stopped right at this minute, it would be at least an hour and a half (thanks to the Air Titans) before the race restarted.

This was NASCAR_WXMAN’s 2:38 p.m. radar tweet showing the severe weather just north of us.

As we stood there, the Speedway began broadcasting messages urging fans to clear the grandstands and take shelter from severe weather in the Daytona area.

At 2:57 p.m., I received a text urging us to clear the grandstand and secure campsites due to severe weather in the area.

“I don’t know about you guys, but the last place I want to be is stuck here in a panicking crowd,” my husband said. Images of being trampled went through all our minds. We all agreed, and as soon as the rain let up, we made a break for it.

It was still peppering rain. We had about a 15-minute walk back to our camper, and we walked and/or jogged as fast as we could.  There was a lot of standing water everywhere; it had rained so hard for so long it really didn’t have anywhere to go.

This was the first time I’d regretted my choice of footwear.

I’d worn my rubber Croc sandals; they are comfortable, easy to walk in, and perfect on a hot day. It wasn’t so much the shoes were hard to move in; it was the fact that I’d lotioned my feet well that morning. Now that my feet were wet, they were like little slippery seals.

I could barely keep my shoes on! My feet kept slide sideways, one way or the other, and because my feet are the only part of me that is narrow, occasionally they would slide forward through the straps until the front half of my foot was exposed at the top.

I tried taking my shoes off, but the pavement was rough. Hampered by my shoes and concerned about the weather, it seemed like it took forever to get back to camp.

About 100 yards from the trailer, heavy rain began to fall again. My foot slid completely through my shoe again. I stopped to fix it, gave up, and hobbled on to the trailer.

We looked like drowned rats. 😀

Our friends Peggy and John were already there. They’d come back earlier at the first sign of rain.

At 3:07 p.m., I received another text from the Speedway advising us that we were under a tornado warning.

Although we’d cleaned up camp earlier that day, we’d left the trailer tailgate open. With the threat of severe weather imminent, Jimmy braved the pouring rain to close it while John helped him from the inside.

In the meantime, Speedway fire department personnel drove through the campground with bullhorns, advising anyone in camp to get in your vehicle and fasten seat belts.

This is a picture someone tweeted of a water spout, although the National Weather Service said it was too far away to confirm.

We debated what to do for a second, but looking around, we saw all the items in camp spaces around us which could become missiles in a high wind. A camper is just not the best place to be in a severe weather situation.

Jimmy tossed on dry clothes, he and John grabbed the dogs, and the four six of us piled into the pickup, started the engine and turned the radio on.

There was silence for a minute.

“Should I go get a cooler?” Jimmy asked. He darted in the trailer and returned two minutes later. We had no idea where any of our fellow campers were. Tucker and Lisa opted to head for a restaurant to be inside a building; we saw them drive by.

I texted friends to see where they were, and to see if they were safe. Most were still over at the Speedway.

We sat in the truck, watched it rain, and toasted life. And adventures in Daytona.

Potholes. Jet-dryer crashes. The first ever rain-out. Wow.

This whole adventure seemed sort of surreal. Daytona is, if nothing else, full of surprises.

Ultimately, we all decided that if it was our time to leave this world, we were at least all together. Jimmy and I were together, we had our dogs with us, and two of our best friends who also happen to be our dogs’ godparents were there. We were all doing something we loved. What more could you ask for, really?

At 3:37 p.m., I received a text that the coast was clear and that the threat of severe weather had left the Speedway.

Thank goodness.

John and Peggy headed back to St. Augustine around 5 p.m. After the “36 Hours of Daytona” two years ago, they opted to watch the rest of it at home. Our friends Eugene and John also left, since they were planning on heading for him the following morning. (Gene, always resourceful, had found  a sheltered dry spot in the Speedway; he and John remained completely dry the whole time!)

The following day, the Weather Channel posted an unflattering article about the Speedway and the lack of notice to the fans.

Would I have left the Speedway earlier if I’d known there was lightning nearby? I’d like to think so, but at the end of the day, who really knows?

In spite of several years of emergency management and planning experience, we still found ourselves in this position. It was a series of decisions – and not all of them bad – based on the information that we had at the time that put us in this situation.

This storm blew up fast.

At approximately 8:30 p.m., the green flag dropped and we were racing again.  With an ongoing threat of rain, drivers weren’t holding back. It was a really exciting race, in which the lead changes and green flag passing broke track records. Once the race got beyond the halfway point, whoever was in the lead when it rained would be the winner.

You just never know. That’s Daytona. 🙂

I’m baaaackk! Poor internet connectivity (the woes of having a regional carrier) is the reason I’ve been missing in action the last few weeks. Rest assured, “management” is working on the problem. Management being me, of course. 😀

Photo by @pixelcrisp

It’s Daytona.

If you’ve ever visited Daytona International Speedway, you were probably awestruck by it’s size and historical significance. It wouldn’t take you long to learn that the racing is unpredictable, unexpected, scary sometimes, and exciting.

The weather is the same way. February in central Florida is like May in the Midwest: anything can happen! This was our 11th Daytona 500. Every year, there’s at least one storm which goes, or has the potential to go severe.  (Hence, it didn’t take us long to learn that it was WAY too much work to decorate a campsite to only have to take it all back down again.)

Speedway personnel had been through our campground (on Speedway property just outside turns 1 and 2) on one occasion prior to Speedweeks to warn campers to ‘button down the hatches’.

In camper-speak, that means to roll up your awnings and put away anything that could blow away (e.g. become a missile in high winds.) This wasn’t our first rodeo: preparing the campsite and staying on top of the weather is something we’ve done over and over again.

For instance, this is way too much crap to have out in high winds. And notice no one has their awning out? Unless you stake it down, putting out your awning is asking for trouble.

So anyway, business had been picking up steadily as Speedweeks neared. On Wednesday before the 500, the town and Speedway grew even busier as the infield opened. There’s an excitement in the air, which increases day by day as the culmination of hard work, preparation, and the anticipation of a new season of racing grows near.

The day of the race dawned sunny and warm, with only a few passing clouds. It was going to be a perfect day for racing!

Things start happening early around the campsite. Friends who are driving in from another locale arrive between 9 and 10 a.m. to avoid traffic. The Goodyear blimp flies over, as well as planes towing banners. There’s various pools and wagers amongst friends. And a bittersweet awareness that while this is the day we’ve all been waiting for, it’s also the end of the road for our Campground Gang to be together until next time.

About an hour before race time, my friend Peggy and I began making preparations.

There was only a 40% chance of rain in the forecast for that afternoon. However, Speedway personnel came through to alert campers of the possibility of severe weather. With the exception of closing the tailgate of our toy hauler, my husband loaded the Harley (we were leaving the next day anyway) and we secured the camp.

As race time grew near, cloud cover began to build, but the radar remained clear. We left for our seats around 1:00 p.m.; by that time, the campground was nearly a ghost town. We arrived at our seats just after the flyover, and in time to see the beginning caution laps.

Green, Green, Green!

Because Twitter is where I get most of my up-to-the-minute news, especially on race days, I jumped back and forth between it and the radar.

Brian Neudorff, a meteorologist in Idaho who refers to himself NASCAR’s unofficial weatherman, (@NASCAR_WXMAN) had been expecting the possibility of a rain delay for a couple of days.

At 1:40 p.m. Brian tweeted “anticipated storms were forming [ESE] of the track…are about 2 hours away with more possible to form.” It was apparently during this time frame the Daytona FanCam shot this picture of everyone in the stands, which shows me checking the Twitter feed. (Wonderful. At least I was in my seat.)

Daytona FanCam shot

At 1:48 p.m., Brian tweeted “Danger, Will Robinson!” Radar update, cell popped up 8 miles WSW of Track.”

I checked my NOAA radar, which showed it as a very small system, mostly green with just a touch of yellow. This was not a big deal, and looked to be a passing shower.

At 1:58 p.m., I read Brian’s tweet which had been sent at 1:51 p.m.: Rain is about 3 to 8 min out WSW with in 3 miles of @DISupdates as of 1:51 pm ET. It’s always the rain you don’t see…

Well, pooh, by that time, it was very nearly there. I really didn’t want to get wet. And if you’re wondering how I missed the tweet…there was action happening on the track. There was a race going on, remember?

I told Jimmy a shower was coming; he said, “You’d better put your raincoat on.”

As I put my jacket on, we began to feel sprinkles. The field was under caution at the time, although not for rain. I saw a tweet that said Danica had asked her crew chief if she should come in for fuel and tires; he told no, that it was going to pour shortly.

I passed that information along to Jimmy, and told him I was headed in. I wasn’t going to sit in the pouring rain!

Yes, I am a fair weather race fan.

“Give me your rain jacket,” he said. (Only one of us brought rain gear that day.) I passed off the coat, and grabbed my bag. It was starting to pepper rain at this point.

@nascar_wxman update

This is a radar image I missed that day via Twitter. That cell was much smaller on my NOAA app. Either my radar image hadn’t been updated and I didn’t notice, or the cell simply blew up really quickly.

If I’d seen this coming, I would have definitely headed back to camp!

The hallway had started to fill with other people taking refuge from the rain. I saw my friend (and fellow camper) Lisa  standing in the hall as well. It seemed like we stood there for a long time, but the reality was that it was probably only about 10 minutes.

On the track, the race had been red-flagged.

We heard the jet dryers go out, and surmised this would probably stop soon.

But wait. This is Daytona.

And so, the rain increased. Most of the people who were seated outside began to filter in. The narrow walkway in which we stood grew packed, and we were all elbow-to-elbow as people squeezed through. Jimmy came in as well as Lisa’s husband Tucker. Shortly thereafter, the skies opened.

Photo by @frankfff

The picture above was taking in a different tower, but this is exactly how it looked when we were there. We were standing up against the rail in the inside hallway.

At 2:34 p.m, I found a text from my friend Peggy; she and her husband John had already headed back to camp, and were in our trailer with our dogs. I remember thinking that’s exactly where I wished I was at that moment.

Water began pouring in between the bottom of the bleachers and on top of us.

“Let’s go downstairs!” Jimmy yelled over the noise of the rain and crowd of people, and the four of us made our way through the crowded narrow walkway downstairs to the front portion of the grandstand which faced the street.

Photo by @The_Dave_Cave

Although this picture was taken in a different tower, it looked exactly like this where we were: large crowds of people moving in all directions. I wanted to grab a shot as we were going downstairs, but there was a whole crowd of people behind me. I didn’t think it was wise to hold up a long train of scurrying people!

(When you’re a blogger, life itself becomes almost like a documentary.)

At this point, we were only damp. (Well, I was slightly more than damp; my jacket which had kept my husband completely dry was soaked, and I got wetter as I wrestled it on.)

Once we got to street level, we stood watching crowds of people go by. I took a selfie of the four of us as we stood there. Wait. There was four of us. Is that a groupie? 😉

The selfie.

My poor husband. He smiles for like, a nano-second, then loses patience over how long it takes the shutter to snap and starts talking. Unless I sneak up on him or he’s not looking at the camera, he’s talking. Every.single.time.

A track or sponsor official happened by (he was someone important because he had a ‘hard card’ – an all access pass which gets you in anywhere at every race) and kindly offered to take a picture. We still have no idea who he was.

Photo by The Guy With The Hard Card

We remained there for what seemed like an eternity as it poured. We could hear thunder.

And yes, I’m still wearing my headset. The announcers stopped broadcasting and there was nothing to listen to. In all the excitement, I forgot to take it off.

We saw vehicles go by driving Betty Jane France away from the Speedway (or so my husband said, I didn’t actually see who was in the car.) Other vehicles with dark windows went by. We felt this was a pretty good indicator we were going to have some free time on our hands.

At 2:57 p.m., I received the first of two texts from the Speedway advising us to evacuate the grandstands, take cover, and secure campsites.

Although we could barely hear the announcements over the loudspeaker, announcers were also advising people to evacuate the grandstands and take shelter. It was still pouring, but the radar looked like there was going to be a brief clearing shortly.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I would rather make a break for camp rather than stay here if people start to panic,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this Never-A-Dull-Moment-in-Daytona Day!