These are follow-up stories to my chance meeting with Sir Frank Williams on my way from the Formula One race in Montreal to the Formula One race at Indy, in 2004.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid. Moron, how could I not remember to check for a jack?! I have got to be the dumbest… What am I doing? Do I realize what just happened to me? I saw qualifying from the garage at Indy! I have no right to whine or complain about anything, ever again in my life!” I think to myself as I sit in the Toyota, Echo, way off on the side of the north bound I69 freeway.
“You know what, you are right.” I turn up the Motörhead CD back up loud, and get lost in it.
I gaze up at the stars, and wonder which one is my dearly departed dad. “He’s not a star, he’s a galaxy!” I mutter out loud. Out of the corner of my left eye, I see a red star just above the horizon. “Wow, I’ve never seen Mars so red before…wait a second, that’s not Mars”. I roll down the window of the Toyota rental-car and squint my eyes. “Oh my god, that’s a running light of a semi truck!”
As my eyes adjust more to the darkness, I can make out 2 big-rigs parked in what appears to be an old abandoned weigh-station, directly across the road from where I am stranded with flat tire. I get out and walk across the freeway, wincing from the blisters on my feet as I go, then down through the ditch, and across the southbound side to a fence that is too high to jump. I have to go all the way down to where the fence ends, and the on-way begins. Approaching the 2 idling trucks I say to myself, “Well, I’m either going to get help, or shot, please don’t let it be shot, please don’t let it be shot!” I’m on a deserted stretch of an Indiana highway, at four AM Monday morning after the Indy Formula 1 race, 2005.
I knock on the door of the first truck and there is no answer, “he’s probably sleeping”. I knock on the 2nd truck and moments later the window rolls down, a Mexican looking face stares out at me. “Ah, buenos noches senior, habla english?” I offer.
“Si, I mean jes”, he replies.
“I was just wondering if you might happen to have a jack, I seem to have gotten a flat in my rental-car, and have been stranded on the other side of the freeway for several hours now.
“I hab a plat too, I yam jus waiting por dee guy to com an peeks eet.”
“No way!?” I exclaim. He turns out to be a friendly fellow, and gets out a map to show me that my nearest exit is 6 miles down the road, and to drive slowly all the way, get off, get back on, etc. Back in the car, I drive slowly until I reach the end of the fence line. I get out and check the ground in the ditch for any large rocks, and or deep ruts. I get back in the car, check my mirrors, and go for it. I just barely make it up the other side, as the tall grass is quite wet with dew. Parking on the side of the on-way, I shut off the car and drift off to sleep.
I dream of Indy, of how I am standing amongst the maddened crowd waiting for the Williams mechanics to show up, so I can get Aussie Ricks e-mail address. The very nice English couple from the paddock shows up… “Donald, how are you?”
“I’m just great Blair, hi Jane. Say, I don’t suppose you can get me in real quick, I just need to grab my buddies e-mail address so I can send him some pictures.”
“Well”, Blair confides in me. “I suppose we could get you in but, you don’t want to press your luck with these people, or you might not be invited back next year.” My head nods in my sleep, I mumble “next year?” A a lone car passes by on the highway. Several thoughts run through my head. “Next year, oh no. This was certainly a once in a lifetime event to have happened to me, I never thought even for a second about it happening again.
“Um, yeah, you’ re right. Well, I’m off to turn one, enjoy the race, it was really nice seeing you two again!” I turn to leave.
“Wait!” Blair says, and reaches way out to pull me back from the crowd. “I guess we could give your address to your friend, what’s his name?” And he gets out his pad and pen and writes it down. We say our goodbyes and I start to make my way to turn 1, jumping out of the way of a speeding service truck that almost hits me. I’m awakened by bright lights and a loud noise, and look up to see the large fix-it truck pass by on its way to do its repairs. The guy changes my flat, for free! “The world would be a nicer place with more people like you in it.” I tell him, say goodbye, and I’m back on the road.
