senses – Ground(ed) Effects

Vive La Livery!

The visual sense and how we react to the stimulii is one of a human’s most basal conditions. Especially in this modern era of media, we are bombarded with images appealing, repulsive, and everything in between.

McDonald’s, for example, is among the most prolific in their study of marketplace and more specifically telling perhaps is their devotion via millions of dollars in research over decades to the very topic of visual appeal to ensure the utmost in terms of attractiveness to their products and experience. They are often deemed highly successful in exploiting our own senses for their gain.

For the world of autosport, the fan experience is predicated largely on the sensual perceptions of sight, sound, smell, and, to a lesser degree, touch. I’m not aware that I’ve ever tasted Indycars in action, but I can’t say that I can rule it out either simply because I’ve never put my tongue on one, but several moments have left me with mouth agape.

Most fans who have experienced autosport in person will generally refer to the torrent of sensations related to it that drew them to the sport initially. I would concur. It is also such that it seems difficult to explain to someone who has never been.

Despite however great the IMS radio network has been at creating pictures in the mind’s eye of the action, nothing will replace the experience of being at the track. It’s what makes a day at the track so enjoyable for many – the incredible experience one has that engages most all senses to the maximum.

A very distant second to being at the track is perhaps radio for audible reception or TV coverage for whom the visual is primary. Visual input is perhaps the strongest factor in determining how most receive the experience of autosport.

Something as simple as the static design of the car, and colors and lettering upon it, generate much attention and appreciation by fans. It is the primary effective experience by which the fan can receive other information aside from the racing action itself. With the depth of sensory imprinting on the race fan, the livery is perhaps one of the most critical intersections of art and commerce.

Even in the earliest days of autosport, attention was paid to varying degrees about the visual aspect of the machine and how it relates to those who experience it in person. With the advent of color photographic film, the real beauty of the cars could be displayed to the masses who were not in attendance.

The word “livery” originates in French (“livree”) and was used in reference to a person or thing who was required or given something (a badge, for example) to visually symbolise a connection (or loyalty/ownership). It’s evolved into the automobile age through racing (car’s color and lettering scheme) and we still appreciate them today. It’s oft said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, but I also like to more objectively rate the effectiveness of a livery by how quickly I can recall the sponsors associated. I have some major product recall due only to the liveries of cars decades ago. Pennzoil is one fine example of effective association of color and design to me.

Having spent some time watching Indycar practices for the 500, here are the first five sponsors from this year’s Indy 500 entries to date that I can quickly recall at this moment: Arrow, Napa, DHL, Pennzoil, USAF.

Now here are their liveries:

Ask me again tomorrow and the answer likely would swap a couple of others not shown here.

Livery design is a competition within the competition of auto racing I enjoy to watch as well, especially in the build-up to the racing action. Those who can capture the eye likely have a better chance of name retention. Granted, some of the above liveries are a result, as noted above, of many years of consistency and clarity in design, or simplicity of name, but that is also to their credit.

Which liveries appeal to you?

Which ones from this year’s field can you recall within seconds?

Which ones from years ago do you still quickly recall today?

If you let your brain spit them out without much thought, you might be surprised at what comes first…

Favorite Engines of Indy – Part 2

Today we go back in time a bit when motors weren’t specified by the sanctioning body, yet one was so dominant there was nearly no competition with it for decades.

When power was king and reliability his queen, the racing countryside was ruled by the ‘house of Offenhauser’. From the mid-1930s through the 1970s, the nearly bulletproof Offy dominated the American midget and sprint car scenes and also won the Indianapolis 500 27 times; 1935, ’37, ’41, ’47-’64, ’68, ’72-76. It remains to this day the all-time leader in wins at Indy.

Its design lineage is traced back through the early 1920s in motors (and chassis) produced by Harry Miller, also famous for his wins at Indy. Miller’s cars and/or engines won 12 times in Indianapolis; 1922-’23, ’26, ’28-34, ’36, ’38, Miller’s design was based on a successful Peugeot motor design that won Indy back in 1913, ’16, and ’19. Personal bankruptcy forced Miller to sell his assets and Fred Offenhauser (Miller’s ‘understudy’) bought the rights and continued to develop the motor with the help of shop designer and draftsman Leo Goosen.

Now with the tangible bits of its racing heritage fading, I thought it would be great to hear that sound again. That wonderfully majestic rumble and deep staccato of the four (yes, just four massive) cylinders of over 1 liter in displacement EACH and double-overhead cams that frighten with noise, leaving no doubt as to the power that lies within. Ever-popular with gearheads and collectors to this day, many still exist and are refurbished to working (racing) condition from midgets to collectible race cars that parade at festivals such as Goodwood.

Here’s a video which reproduces the signature engine sound quite well, but honestly, nothing beats hearing them (and smelling them) burn methanol in person. For extra fun, put on some quality headphones, turn the volume up, and enjoy a trip back to the Kingdom of Offenhauser…

Here’s a nice bit of history I found on the interwebnettubes: an audio recording (with slide show of 60s-era cars) of the start and first laps of the 1963 race. If you must (he said begrudgingly) skip the golden voice of Tom Carnegie, Tony Hulman’s Command, and the parade laps, then go to the 6:50 moment to hear the field of 33 (26 Offys, 3 Novis, 2 Fords, 2 Chevys) coming at you in full song which certainly tell a race fan they were in the right place…

Currently the rights the Offenhauser legacy and many Offy rebuilds are held by Van Dyne Engineering in Huntington Beach, CA. A nice tribute site to the Miller-Offy legacy also exists here, with a concise racing engine history of Harry Arminius Miller here.

Anyone else care to dream about the moonlight on the Wabash tonight? I know I will.

One small suggestion to those that run the Indy 500

I’ve been going to the Indianapolis 500 for many, many years now and almost nothing about Indy and it’s changes have caused me any angst.

Nothing except for one seemingly small but ignominious detail, which I humbly submit for reversion back to its previous form, for your review…

There are precious few truly outstanding and hallowed moments in all of sports and the 30 minutes preceding the drop of the green flag of the Indy 500 is one of them. Much like the reverence given the Masters grounds, or the call to post of the Kentucky Derby, those final moments leading to the command to start engines is truly stuff of American legend and should be treated as such. The herky-jerk schedule of today does a disservice to one of the greatest traditions in all of sports and is only, I presume, due to the television’s coverage demands for last-minute commerical inserts before the green flag. This, to me, is simply appalling.

It is in the spirit of the highest traditions that I submit to revert back to the days (as recently as the late 90s) when the television coverage did not dictate the flow of those traditional proceedings: The National Anthem, America the Beautiful (lets shelve the God Bless America for now, please), the Invocation, the playing of Taps, the Flyover, Back Home Again in Indiana (long live Jim Nabors), Balloon Release, and “Start Your Engines” (merely typing this recalls goosebump-producing moments of Indys past).

There always was an order for these events which created a palpable crescendo of anticipation, nerves, and excitement that culminates in the sensory overload of 33 cars screaming by on that first lap. It’s almost as if summer itself waits reverently for this moment before signaling the official end of spring.

I propose that any schedule be continuous as in years past and that should live TV coverage desire to catch all the aforementioned grand moments, that it be commercial-free from The National Anthem through at least the first 5 laps or so.

TV, you must rethink your desire to dictate for it is not you that made this tradition, you are merely one of its witnesses. You do not command the proceedings and I submit the Masters TV coverage as the example the Indy 500 should follow – even if for only 30 minutes.

Also, please remove the unnecessary pit road exit booth. I sit on Pit Road each raceday and the mad rush to remove the staging, lights, booms, and talent after the command and prior to the green flag is both ridiculous and unnecessary.

Dear TV, when the Indianapolis Motor Speedway asks you to do the aformentioned, humble yourself ever so slightly and show proper reverence for this great American tradition and its grounds by complying. Your fans and your public (and thereby your advertisers) will thank you.

Synopsis, Part Deux – The End of the Beginning

My second (and fate-sealing) interaction with the Speedway was to see the race in person in 1979. I anticipated that day much like most any Christian kid did with the coming of Christmas morning. The wait for that day was nearly interminable, but the day arrives and our journey begins.

Sparing the day’s travel details, We found our seats in the first row of L-South stand bleachers. L-South (gone years ago to the expansion of the mighty aluminum L-Stand) was deemed a great raceday value by my father and I’d have to say that he was right but not exactly for the reasons he surmised. His reasoning was that we were seeing the cars at top speed but paying less than half of the price for the seats corresponding to our location which was the outside of Turn 1.

My reasons became immediately apparent on the first green flag lap. We were a scant 18 feet away from the outside wall of the track at the point where the cars have reached top speed on the backstretch and are beginning the entrance to Turn 3. He was right about the speed. I’m fairly sure that he had no idea the extent of sensory-loading that would occur by being that close to the track. My friend and I were 11 years old and, by all parental reports, were the quietest they’d ever seen us during those opening laps of the 1979 race.

Anticipation had finally given way when Tom Carnegie came over the PA system announcing the green flag had fallen. Cheers went up in L-South and all around, followed by a quickly hushed anticipation of the coming cars. I very distinctly recall the following moments and think about them most fondly on raceday each year.

I’m not sure I will ever understand fully the extent of the impact those moments had on me, but the result was clear – I had become and Indy 500 fanatic. The crowd sound swelled from the large L-stand whose view directly down the backstretch signaled the coming onslaught of machines. I recall the bleachers vibrating slightly followed immediately by the crescendo of screaming Cosworth, AMC, Offenhauser, and Drake-Goossen-Spark, motors and an overwhelming wave of sensory loading culimnating in the decrescendo of motor noise and the sweet, pungent smell of burnt ethanol. In approximately 9 seconds, I had felt, heard, seen, and smelled the most powerful things ever before in my life. I could hardly wait the remaining 36 seconds for the leaders to come back around and experience it again.

That brief moment and the following events were so powerful, I would long for that day to arrive every year. In the years I couldn’t attend, I listened even more intently than ever before recalling that beautiful, sunny, Indiana day when the 33 (plus 2 due to the USAC-CART legal wranglings that year) cars shook my senses to the extreme. To this day, I still cannot imagine a sporting event having more impact on me than May 27, 1979.