TNT is offering a million dollars to anyone who picks the top ten drivers – in order – at any of the six races they broadcast.  You have up until 25% of the race has been run to lock in your selections, which means up to mile 100 at Daytona this weekend.   How likely are you to win?

You have a 1 in 43 chance of picking the first driver correctly.  There are now 42 drivers left and you have a 1 in 42 chance of picking the second driver correctly.  When you calculate the probability of doing two things, you multiply the probabilities.  It makes sense that there ought to be less probability of picking two numbers in a row than of picking one, right?  So the odds of picking two drivers in the right order is 1 in (43 x 42) or 1 in 1,806.

Continuing this pattern…

# picked in right order

Calculation Chances are …
1 1 in 43 1 in 43
2 1 in (43 x 42) 1 in 1806
3 1 in (43 x 42 x 41) 1 in 74,046
4 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40) 1 in 2,961,840
5 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39) 1 in 115,511,760
6 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39 x 38) 1 in 4,389,446,880
7 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39 x 38 x 37) 1 in 162,409,534,560
8 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39 x 38 x 37 x 36) 1 in 5,846,743,244,160
9 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39 x 38 x 37 x 36 x 35) 1 in 204,636,013,545,600
10 1 in (43 x 42 x 41 x 40 x 39 x 38 x 37 x 36 x 35 x 34) 1 in 6,957,624,460,550,400

That’s one in 6.9 quadrillion to get all ten in the right order.

Is Picking Them in Order Harder?

What if TNT had just said you had to get all ten, in no particular order?

If you look at ten numbers, there are ten ways of picking the first number, nine of picking the second, etc. That multiplies out to there being (10 x 9 x 8 x 7 x 6 x 5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1=) 3,628,000 different ways of organizing ten numbers in every which way possible.

If TNT had decided that you only needed to get the drivers right, but not the order, your chances would increase to a whopping 1 in 1,917,334,783.

But there aren’t Really 43 Drivers Capable of Placing in the Top Ten…

OK, in reality, the odds are a little better.  The calculation above assumes that the finish is a totally random event and we know that it’s not because there are 7-9 start and parkers.  Realistically, you’re picking from maybe 35 cars (8 S&Ps), so the odds for getting all ten in the right order if you’re only picking from 35 drivers are 1 in 818,441,006,423,040. or 1 in about 818 trillion.

But there aren’t Even Really 35 Drivers Capable of Placing in the Top Ten…

Yeah, the husband tried to make the argument that you’re really only choosing from about 17 or maybe 20 drivers.  Five words:  Regan Smith and Trevor Bayne.

Just for comparison…

Odds of being struck by lightning are 1 in 576,000.
Odds of being killed by lightning are about 1 in 2,320,000
Odds of a meteor landing on your house: 1 in 182,138,880,000,000

So you’ve got a better chance of a meteor landing on your house than winning that million dollars.

Often for promotions like this (free televisions if it snows 10 inches on New Year’s Day!!), a company will take out an insurance policy.  They’ll pay some amount of money to hedge against paying more.  The people at the insurance company who figure out how much to charge them use these types of calculations to figure out the risk.  I’m guessing TNT wouldn’t want to pay much of a premium because the odds are clearly in their favor.  But it’s a great promotion.

Does this mean you shouldn’t play?  Heck no – TNT isn’t charging you to enter, so get your best guess together and see if you can beat the odds.

RANDOM NOTES

Look at this cool project from Clemson and DuPont to take middle and high school teachers to the racetrack and teach them about science!  Way to go, Tigers.

The probability of becoming a saint is estimated at about one in 20 million, but if you’re Jacques Villeneuve, the odds rise to one in a flying pig.

Gratuitous link to The NASCAR Insiders just because their Wednesday Q&A is always worth checking out – it is a blog I always learn something from!

Daytona this weekend – read all about drafting vs. bump drafting, why you’re likely to see two but not three cars drafting together, why NASCAR limits radiator pressure to try to keep the two-car draft to a minimum, and why drivers shift to the right to get air to the engine if they’re turning left.  Or take a look at the Science of Speed video on drag and drafting.

 

 

The NASCAR pundits have again simplified a complex situation.  Incorrectly.

(Of course, at least they got the network right!  I got FOX and ESPN confused.  This is the problem with a 60-hour a week job and trying to blog about something utterly unrelated in the meantime.  My excuse is that I have a $3.5 million proposal due this week.  The same math holds, regardless of whether it is FOX or ESPN. Thank you Michael!)

The NASCAR Net is a-twitter since FOX floated a trial balloon about moving races from ESPN FOX to SPEED.  I’ve heard the argument over and over, in print and on radio that this is a bad idea because EPSN FOX is in 100 million homes and SPEED is in “only” 78 million homes.  They argue this would be a decline of 22 million potential viewers.  The question not being asked how many of those 22 million ESPN FOX watchers are actually potential viewers?

Point number 1:  Diehard NASCAR fans are going to find the race on television wherever it is.  Rabid fans are going to get whatever cable package they need in order to watch races, or they’re going to find a local sportsbar that carries the race.  Casual and incidental viewers are the ones that will make a difference in numbers.

Point number 2:  A very small fraction of households receiving a network watch it.  The highest rated race of 2010 on ESPN was August Pocono, with 6.3 million viewers.  Let’s assume an average of 2 people per household, so if ESPN is in 100 million households, that corresponds to roughly 200 million viewers.  ESPN pulled in 3.2% of the viewers who had the option of watching the August race at Pocono.

SPEED is in 78 million households, so assuming the same two people on average per household, there are 156 million potential viewers.  If SPEED captured the same 3.2% of their possible viewers, that would be 5.0 million viewers.  The difference is 1.3 million viewers — if you are willing to ignore point 3.

The numbers for FOX – let’s leave out the Daytona 500, which was 13.3 million and I bet FOX isn’t going to move that – are similar.  The highest rated race was April Talladega, with 8.45 million viewers.  Out of the 200 million possible eyeballs, that’s 4.2%.  4.2% of SPEED’s viewing audience is 6.55 million viewers, so again, we need an increase of about 1% to match FOX’s numbers.

Point 3:  Consider the demographics of FOX viewers vs. SPEED viewers.  SPEED is a motorsports channel.  I would think you’d be more likely to get a motocross fan to watch NASCAR than an average television viewer.  Which network is more likely to promote the race during other shows?  Which network is more likely to have the schedule freedom to do extended pre- and post-race shows?  All SPEED would have to do to equal the viewership from ESPN would be to attract 0.86% of the remaining viewers and about 1% to equal the viewership from FOX.  We’re really talking more like a difference of 2 million than 22 million.

There are many factors besides numbers, but numbers aren’t as big a factor as some are trying to make them out to be.

Just for fun, here are some stats for ESPN and SPEED viewership. They are from 2006-2007, but that’s the latest I have easy access to.

Category ESPN SPEED
Men 69% 80%
Women 31% 20%
18-34 28% -
35-54 39% -
55+ 33 -
18-49 - 69%
25-54 - 63%
$75,000/year + 43% 38%
$50,000/year + 62% 61%
 

The big news for Pocono is that drivers can shift…again.  Which brings up the obvious dual questions of: Why would you want to? and Why didn’t you before?

Compare how fast the wheels have to rotate with how fast the engine rotates.  Both are measured in revolutions (or rotations) per minute – rpms.  Assuming a tire circumference of 88.6 in, tires have to rotate from 417 rpm (at 35 mph), to 1490 rpm (125 mph) to 2146 rpm at 180 mph.  The graphic tachometer on television tells us that the engine runs between 7000 rpm and 9500 rpm most of the time.

Gearing for a Borg Warner MM6 manual transmission and a GU6 3.42 rear-end gear, as might be found in a Corvette.

You can’t connect the engine directly to the wheels because of the difference in rotation rates.  This is where the gears come in.  A car has two sets of gears:  The first I’ll talk about is the rear end gear, which I seem to remember is somewhere around 3.8 or 3.9 for Pocono.  The rear gear reduces the rotation rate coming from the driveshaft and sends that rotation to the wheels (as shown in the diagram).  A 4.0 gear would produce a rotation rate coming out of the gear that is 1/4th the rotation rate coming into the rear gear.  If the driveshaft is rotating at 5000 revolutions per minute (rpm), the wheels would be rotating at 1250 rpm. (A 4.0 gear would mean that for every four rotations coming in, one rotation goes out.)

With a 4.0 rear gear, your engine would have to change speed from 1600 rpm to about 8500 rpm going from 35 mph to 180 mph.  The problem is that an engine produces its maximum power over a narrow range of rpms.  (It also produces its maximum torque over a small range of rpms, although not the exact same range as the maximum power band.)  You’d like to have the engine operating in the target range all the time.

This is why you need a second set of gears, which are found in the transmission.  This series of gears (usually 4, 5, or 6 different gears) gives you different sizes so you can keep the engine running near its sweet spot — regardless of how fast you’re going.  Fourth gear on most transmissions is 1:1, meaning that there is no speed change through the transmission.  On a passenger car, like the one from the gearing figure, the higher gears (overdrive) reverse the ratio.  0.50:1 means that the rotational rate coming out is higher than the rotational rate going in.  NASCAR prohibits overdrive.

In trying to go faster and faster, teams were moving their engine’s target range to higher and higher rpms – which means higher and higher costs.  In 2005, NASCAR instituted a gear rule to keep engine speeds (and thus cost) down.  NASCAR gives you a limited choice of rear-end gears and dictates the transmission gears as well.  Those choices keep the maximum engine rotation rate below about 10,000 or 10,500 rpm without having to implement a difficult-to-enforce engine rule.

NASCAR changed the gear rule for Pocono this year.  First gear can be anything you want.  Second gear can be 1.70:1 or greater, and – this is the big change – the third gear limit changed from 1.28:1 to 1.14:1 or greater.  Fourth gear stays at 1.00:1.   (“or greater” means that the first number may be larger, but not smaller.)  NASCAR still doesn’t allow overdrive.  Normally, the rule book prohibits gears between 1.00:1 and 1.28:1 except for road course events.

Pocono - certainly one of the more unique tracks on the NASCAR circuit

Why Pocono?  Most oval tracks have four turns, with the frontstretch and backstretch close to the same length.  Pocono has three turns and three straightaways:  a frontstretch of 3740 feet, a backstretch (Long Pond) of 3,055 ft and a short straight of only 1,780 feet. You can imagine that the rpm the car reaches is very different coming down the two long straights (i.e. coming into turns 1 and 3) compared to coming down the shorter straight (i.e. into 2).  What you’d like is for the engine to be turning at about the same rpm into each turn.

It seems like NASCAR’s change is too small to be meangingful – from 1.28:1 to 1.14:1 is only 0.14, right?  Actually, it’s a factor of two.  What makes a difference is how much above 1.00 the gear is.  The important thing about moving from 1.14:1 to 1.28:1 is moving from 14 to 28.

For the sake of argument, let’s say the engine is ideally in 7200 rpm in fourth gear.  When you shift to third, a 1.28:1 gear (which used to be the lowest for third), requires the engine to run at 9216 rpm (=1.28*7200) to maintain the same speed.  That takes you far away from the best rpm range for your engine.  Changing from 1.28:1 to 1:14:1 means that third gear only requires your engine to run at 8208 rpm.  That may seem like it is still a big shift; however, given the way the power and torque curve vary with rpm, it’s small enough to mean that you’re close enough to your power band for it to work. It’s a shift of about 1000 rpm instead of 2000 rpm with the 1.28:1 gear.  That gives the engine shop – and the driver – some interesting options.

This type of a rules change is, in my opinion, exactly the direction NASCAR ought to be moving to open up areas for people to be innovative.  It’s a relatively minor change in terms of enforcement.  It keeps the teams from pushing into the higher rpm ranges (and thus steeply pushing up engine costs), but it allows the engineers and the drivers to pursue different strategies.  For example, most drivers will be shifting in turns 1 and 3, but others (like Denny Hamlin) plan to shift only in turn 1.  Another aspect is how shifting affects fuel mileage.  Overdrive gears are there because the more rotations an engine makes, the more friction it has to overcome.  And, as Carl Edwards points out, every time you shift, you run the chance of screwing up and damaging the transmission.  Most NASCAR drivers aren’t used to shifting this much during a race.  Do you try for what might be a small advantage and shift at the cost of possibly screwing up the transmission?  Do drivers like Marcos Ambrose, who have a lot more experience shifting, have an advantage?  Does the engine shop adapt different strategies for drivers who are comfortable shifting compared to those who are not?

Unfortunately, this rule really makes a difference only at Pocono due to it’s unique configuration.

 

The gas needed to do one lap at a one-mile track fits in this quart bottle

I guess when you have people feeding you all the numbers you need through your earpiece, you think they’re easy to come by.  That’s the only explanation I can figure out for the snarky comments by television commentators about crews not being “smart enough” to figure out how much gas to put in the car so that it doesn’t run out before the end of the race.  There have been a lot of fuel mileage races the last few weeks.  Pocono is traditionally also highly likely to be a fuel mileage race, so let’s clarify how easy (or hard) it is to not run out of fuel.

Average mileage under green is about 4 miles per gallon.  At a one-mile track, than means one lap (one mile) requires one quarter of a gallon, which is one quart.  A car running out of gas coming out of turn four is short by probably a cup of fuel.   On the one hand, it’s amazing that it takes a whole quart of gas to do one lap.  On the other hand, the fuel cell holds 18 or 19 gallons.  Let’s say they get 18.5 gallons in the fuel cell – that’s 74 quarts, so you’re talking being off by 1/74th of a tank, which is a pretty narrow margin of error.

For comparison, a passenger car getting 32 mpg would need only a half a cup of gas to do a lap at Phoenix.  Although much more fuel efficient, the television ratings would likely be much lower.

There are some other considerations.  Here are two that are hard to quantify:

  • The pickups on the fuel cell can’t pull all the gas out of the tank, no matter how much swerving the driver does.  There’s likely to be some fuel in the fuel cell that just doesn’t make it to the engine.  It is a small fraction of the fuel cell, but  if we’re talking about 8 ounces of fuel being the difference between making it and not, small amounts matter a lot.
  • The driver’s ability to save fuel varies, depending on the driver and if he’s racing hard or if he’s able to set his own pace.  If he’s racing hard with another driver, he’ll likely get less than the expected fuel mileage.  If he’s skilled (getting off the throttle earlier going into the corner and getting onto the throttle later coming out of the corner), he might save a lap or two or three worth of gas.  It’s the same principle as you and I not stomping on the gas or the brake to be more fuel efficient.  When the crew chief asks the driver how much gas he’s saved, the only thing the driver can do is guess.  The more experienced the driver, the better feel he is likely to have for how much gas he saved.

One of the biggest challenges for the crew chief is calculating the actual gas mileage.  Let’s say you or I are calculating the fuel mileage of our car.  We go to the gas station and fill up the car.   The next time we stop for gas, we figure out how many gallons it takes to fill the tank back up and how far we drove.  For example:

I fill up my tank.  300 miles later, I stop for gas again and find that I need 10 gallons to fill up the tank.  It took me 10 gallons to drive 300 miles, which means my gas mileage is 30 miles per gallon.

OK, that’s not perfectly accurate because what does “fill up” mean?  Some people top off the tank and others stop as soon as they sense it is close to full.  There’s some variation in the fuel pumps as to where the pump shuts off automatically.  300 miles on the expressway is different than 300 miles in town.  If you want a meaningful number that characterizes your own gas mileage, you need to measure it consistently over a period of time and use an average.  Of course, that’s not possible in NASCAR.

But at least you and I get a decent measurement of how much gas we put in the car.  NASCAR teams don’t get to measure how many gallons of fuel goes into the car: They get to measure how many pounds of fuel went into the car.

A NASCAR fuel can holds about 12 gallons of fuel.  Gas weighs about 6 lbs per gallon, so the full gas can holds 76 lbs of gas.  The can itself is about 20-25 lbs, so round numbers, 95-100 lbs total. (Thanks to the NASCAR Insiders for the numbers.  I am writing this from a neuroscience retreat and don’t have my notes handy.)

Before each pit stop, the team weighs each one of the gas cans.  Let’s say one of them weighs 96 lbs.  The car comes in to pit, they add fuel and then weigh each gas can again.  Let’s say that the can weighs 36 lbs after a stop.  The change in weight is 96 lbs – 36 lbs = 60 lbs.  At 6 lbs per gallon, you can infer that the can is missing 10 gallons.

Note that I very carefully said ‘the gas can is missing 10 gallons’ because we have no assurance that all 10 gallons went into the car.  You’ve seen gasoline spill out everywhere when the gasman pulls the dry break away from the fuel cell inlet.  That happens even more with the new dry breaks because they are a little trickier to put in place and pull out than the old gas cans were.

The crew chief looks down and makes a mental estimate of how much fuel is spilled, converts the masses from the cans into gallons and comes up with a number for how much fuel he thinks is in the car.  From that, he estimates how many laps they can run.  If you want to see a frustrated crew chief, look for the gas man with the raised eyebrows and the shrugging shoulders.  He thinks he got it full… but he’s not sure.  That’s actually sometimes worse than the one who knows he didn’t get it full.  Sometimes it’s better to know the answer, even if it’s bad, than to be unsure.  The scales in the pits have at least one decimal place, and my friend Josh (a member of the ex-Elliott crew chief club) suggests that the better teams have almost certainly moved to scales with two decimal places.

Do the decimal places really matter?  Turns out they do.  Sunoco provides NASCAR teams with the exact density of the gas on race day, and they provide it to two decimal places.  So instead of 6.00 lbs/gallon, they’ll tell you 5.94 or 6.06 lbs/gallon.  If you weigh 60 lbs of gas, that’s 1o gallons @6.00 lbs/gal vs. 10.6 gallons @6.06 lbs/gal.  Remember that on a one mile track, one lap requires 0.25 gallons.  That 0.6 gallons difference is more than two laps on a one-mile track.

One more thing that’s different this year.  Here’s your word to impress people with this week:  Hygroscopic (hi-grow-skop-ick).  It means very attractive to water.  Ethanol – and 15% of the NASCAR fuel is ethanol – is highly hygroscopic.  If you turn your back on ethanol for even a moment, you turn back and there it is sucking up water.  We use ethanol in the lab to clean things and we actually have to use acetone afterward to get rid of the water the ethanol leaves.

Two issues with hygroscopicity:  First, you’re getting water in the fuel and water isn’t combustible.  You put the same volume of liquid in the cylinder and you get less power because some of the molecules turn into steam instead of combusting.  So you need more rotations to get the same power and thus you’re using fuel at a different rate.

Second, water has a different density than the hydrocarbon fuel molecules (or the ethanol), so the amount of gas you’re getting in the car is different that what you think.   Density changes with temperature, so if you think about a race like Kansas, where it was really hot, or like Charlotte, when the temperature varied quite a bit from start to finish, you might experience meaningful changes in the density over the course of a race.  Even if you did all the calculations successfully, you might still be surprised because one of the inputs was off. Also, when the temperature rises, more water can be absorbed by the ethanol.  The water molecules hang out in the gas, pretending they belong there.  But when it cools down, the water can separate from the fuel, so it’s possible to have liquid in the tank, but not have a lot of fuel.  This is a tremendous unknown that the teams have no experience with and it may account for why there have been so many fuel mileage surprises.

A lot of factors go into correctly calculating fuel mileage.  I think if you really want to get it right, you’d want to use a model that involves calculus.  And I bet there are at least a couple teams doing that.  You can make little widgets for things like fuel consumption or gear ratios and rpm using something as simple as Excel.  I know NASCAR likes to portray itself as simple, but let’s give the folks sitting with all the computers up on the pit box their due.

A few misc notes:

  • Happy to hear that Chad Johnston is getting a shot at crew chief for the 56 team.  Chad was the engineer for Elliott Sadler’s team when I was following them around for the Physics of NASCAR book.  Chad is a talented guy who reminds me a little of Rodney Childers – not self-promoting, doesn’t talk when he doesn’t have anything to say, but when he has something to say, make sure you listen.
  • I wish the story about what happened to the Second Chance Motorsports Nationwide crew at Chicago got just a small fraction of the attention Richard Childress/Kyle Busch did.  It’s sad, but there are so many people trying to get into NASCAR that there will always be some people who will work for someone who doesn’t have a history of treating people right.
  • BTW – I’m tired of hearing about RC/KyBu… you can stop now.
  • Here are a couple neuroscience tidbits I learned this week.  Perhaps the most useful thing was that if you get eight hours of sleep, but it’s not continuous (think new moms), your reflexes and ability to think are comparable to someone seriously sleep deprived.  The least useful (but perhaps most interesting) piece of information was that rodents lack the ability to vomit.  If you want to test whether a drug induces nausea, you use ferrets because they barf pretty readily.  Moral of the story:  If you’re going out drinking, take the rat as your bar buddy and let the ferret be the designated driver.  (The second moral is that if you went into physics because you have a queasy stomach, watching that talk right before lunch was maybe not the best thing to do.)
  • Where have I been?  Well, the last year or so I’ve been dealing with some really, really serious medical issues and it’s been all I can do to get through the day.  Blogging was one of the many things in my life that just seemed to require too much energy to manage.  I’m starting to feel better now – sometimes I would go so far as to say “inspired” – so I’m hoping my comeback will keep.  Thanks to the many online buddies who have kept me in their thoughts and brightened my days.  You don’t know how much you have been appreciated.
 

Any closed vessel that is subjected to high temperature will experience increasing pressure.  When that pressure gets high enough, we change from calling it a pressure vessel to a bomb because if(when) it explodes, the vessel itself becomes a collection of high-speed projectiles.  For safety, we don’t heat closed containers if there’s a chance they will reach high enough pressure for them to explode.  A pressure cooker, for example, has a relief valve that at one time was as simple as a rubber stopper tightly fitted into the lid.  The rubber stopper fit in the hole securely enough to handle up to some cutoff pressure, then popped out when that pressure was exceeded.  (This is not an ideal safety mechanism because the flying stopper can injure someone, as can the blast of steam that dislodged the stopper.)

A more practical version is a valve that automatically opens when the pressure exceeds some cut-off value.  The open valve allows excess steam (and sometimes water) to escape.  As soon as the pressure is below the cut off, the valve closes again.  In addition to being safer, it eliminate the time-wasting step of looking for the stopper.

The cooling system on a car is a prime example of a closed system that is heated to high temperature.  Water is pumped through holes in the engine block, where it collects heat.  The now-hot water moves out of the engine and into the radiator, where the heat is transferred from the water to air surrounding the radiator.  The cooled water returns to the engine to pick up more heat.  A Sisyphusian task, indeed.

A radiator is a twist of metal tubing onto which is fastened thousands and thousands of fins that help cool the water that circulates through it.   A typical stock car radiator (like the one at left) might have 20 fins per inch (compared to 10 fins per inch on a typical car radiator).  The more fins per inch, the more surface area available for exchanging heat between the radiator water and the outside air; however, air has to pass through the radiator, so if there are too many fpi, the air flow is decreased and that lessens the cooling.

The water can only carry away so much heat on each trip, so the water temperature gets hotter and hotter as long as the engine keeps producing heat.  The water increases in pressure as the temperature increases.  (See Equation, Clapyron for more on that.)   Water, of course, boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and that would seem to set a limit on how hot you can run an engine; however, there’s a caveat.  Water boils at 212 F only at atmospheric pressure.  As the graph below shows, the higher the pressure, the hotter the water can get before it boils.  Atmospheric pressure is right about 14.7 psi, and that’s where the 212 degree Fahrenheit number applies.  But if you can get the pressure of the system up to about 45-48 psi, the water won’t boil until 275-280 F.  If you can maintain a high pressure in your radiator, you can prevent the water from turning into steam.  Water is much better at carrying away heat than steam is.  Water also flows much better.  Most radiators have a pop-off valve that blows when the pressure gets too high.  A typical radiator cap on a car would be about 15 psi, which actually means 15 psi above atmosphere.  Atmosphere is 14.7 psi, so you’re looking at about 29.7 psi in absolute terms.  This is why your radiator cap has all of those warnings about not removing it while the car is hot:  when the system is vented (opened to atmosphere), the super-hot water will turn into super-hot steam and gush from the opening.

A pop-off valve serves as a ‘weak link’: it has to blow before anything else in the system blows.  Most radiator caps on passenger cars are spring loaded:  When the pressure gets too high, the cap lifts off its seat, opening the system and allowing the hot water to escape into a reservoir.  As soon as the pressure is back down, the radiator cap goes back to being closed.

In a NASCAR car, the pop-off valves open and route the escaping steam and/or water through a tube that passes up near the right-hand side of the car’s windshield.  When you see a car “pushing water”, the maximum pressure has been exceeded and the pop-off valve opened.

For the last couple of years, most of the top NASCAR engine shops have focused on strengthening radiators.  It’s not difficult to get a pop-off valve set to 100 psi.  The problem is that if the pop-off valve isn’t the weak leak in the system, something else breaks.  It’s much more expensive to replace a radiator than a valve – so the size of the pop-off valve is really limited by the strength of the radiator.   A stronger radiator allows a higher pressure to be maintained.  Tim Brewer said that teams were pressurizing their systems to 80 psi (which would be 94.7 psi on my graph were it to extend to the right.)

Two-car drafting produces very high speeds, and that makes NASCAR nervous.  Cutting down the restrictor plate (which they did today) slows down the cars, but NASCAR doesn’t want to change the plate more that 1/64th of an inch or two because the change in plate size significantly affects how air enters the engine.  Teams have been designing engines around a particular plate size, although you would think that by now, they’d know to test not only the announced size, but plates one or two sizes up and down.

The limiting factor on how long two cars can stay in a draft is temperature.  The air intake of the trailing car is blocked when it is drafting, and the water temperature increases.  Two cars could go twenty laps or more before they had to separate.  NASCAR’s plan to limit the two-car draft started with a mandated pop-off valve.  NASCAR requires all teams to use a 33-psi pop-off valve, which corresponds to (33+14.7=47.7 psi) in my graph above.  All the work teams did to manage an 80 psi pressurized system is now out the window.  They also decreased the size of the opening through which air enters the car to cool the engine.  Less air reaching the radiator means less heat transferred from the water and a warmer engine.

Now if someone only could come up with a pop-off valve for drivers…

*****

EXTRA:  Wondering about the different between a tapered spacer and a restrictor plate?  Check out this video, which illustrates very visually how a fluid flows differently through an orifice (the plate) and a nozzle (the spacer).  They’re using both on the Nationwide cars now.  The way the air enters the engine really makes a difference in the combustion dynamics.  Making a smaller spacer would have created too big a perturbation.  The holes in the new space are actually larger, but the plate will help decrease the overall flow.

 

Randy LaJoie Sr.It was quite a surprise getting into the car Tuesday and turning the radio to my favorite Sirius NASCAR show. A very distraught Randy LaJoie was explaining that NASCAR was about to announce that they had suspended him for testing positive for marijuana. The details are widely available, so I won’t repeat them here and, frankly, that’s not the point of this blog. He smoked a joint while partying with a group of people at the racetrack. It was a one-time thing, not something he does regularly but — as Dave Moody pointed out — not a real bright thing to do given NASCAR’s zero tolerance drug policy. Plus, it’s illegal. Randy is jumping through the NASCAR hoops necessary to get reinstated.

I have to say, though, that the admission wasn’t as much of a surprise as the media and fan reaction. It ranged from sort of funny (“@JosephPaulillo: Knew something was up when LaJoie told Coleman during the race, “clear turn 5E, except for the minatour.”) to just plain stupid, the worst of which was a ‘respected’ NASCAR writer tearing apart LaJoie’s apology. How unfair of Randy to have taken all the fun out of kicking people when they’re down by beating everyone to the punch.

I finally reached my limite with the Sirius Speedway caller who actually said, “Don’t worry, Randy will get his life back together and he’ll be fine.”

Give me an effin’ break. Randy doesn’t have anything to “get back together”.

When you reach the point in your life when you really start thinking about what your purpose is on this Earth (which I have recently), you run into a lot of people whom you hope justify their existence by being loving parents, working at homeless shelters and donating to food banks because it is hard to see how what they do in their day jobs makes the world a better place. But my perspective may be skewed because just about everything I’ve seen about the incident focused on LaJoie as a ‘two-time Busch champion’.

I’m not sure where being a racecar driver comes in in terms of making the world a better place. There are some people who have made a point of doing things beyond the track. Over in the ALMS, driver David Brabham spends a lot of his own time and money trying to make the world a better place. Alcohol companies can’t sponsor cars is France, so the Highcroft Patron car at Le Mans instead featured an effort to eradicate malaria – a disease most of us in the U.S. and Europe don’t worry about since it doesn’t affect us. Jeff Gordon, Richard Childress and others have put their own money into medical facilities. This is in contrast to the ‘let me sign this and put it up on ebay and let other people donate money’ approach.

One of the things about being ‘on the inside’ is that you learn things about people that most fans don’t know. Sometimes it’s not a pleasent experience (you find that a driver you really liked is an inconsiderate sexist snob), but sometimes you learn things that you just feel compelled to pass along.

Randy LaJoie is a good racecar driver, but when St. Peter looks down a list of Randy’s accomplishments as he stands at the pearly gates, there’s going to be a long list of names. Those are the names of people whose lives Randy LaJoie has saved.

Randy doesn’t have formal engineering training, but he’s got all the skills of a scientist or engineer. When he was driving (which he refers to as “being my own crash-test dummy”), he realized that it was really important that the driver stopped when the car stopped. Randy’s company, The Joie of Seating, makes seats for race cars.

The Joie of Seating makes seats for NASCAR drivers. Remember Michael McDowell’s crash at Texas? One of Randy’s seats was part of the safety equipment that helped McDowell walk away with nothing more than a few bruises (ribs and ego).

But — and more importantly — Randy makes seats for the everyday racer. The Saturday night men and women who can’t afford carbon fiber, but need a safe, well-fitted seat. They also make seat for kids. The problem with kids is that they outgrow things. Quickly. An entry-level seat for a racecar can cost a couple of hundred to more than a thousand bucks. If you’re not one of those parents into mortgaging the house for your kid’s career, you’re faced with a dilema. Do you buy the seat big so that it will last for two years and try putting some extra padding on so your daughter can’t slide around if she’s hit in her quarter midget?

If you buy a seat from Randy, he’ll trade out seats as your kid grows because he knows a seat is safe only if it fits right. He could make more money by selling more seats, but that’s not really why he’s in business. Randy started a not-for-profit 501(3)c foundation to promote racing safety at short tracks so that all the safety innovations developed for NASCAR’s top series can start being used at the local tracks.

I got to interview Randy for The Science of Speed video series. We spent a whole morning in his shop asking the guys working at the shop if they could please hold off hammering for a just a few more moments and playing with the shop dog.

My favorite part of the interview with Randy was one we used to end of the video segment on safety. He says something like (and I’m paraphrasing – you should really look at the very end of the video if you want to appreciate his passion for safety):

When I was racing, I wanted to reach Victory Lane. Now, when one of my customers calls me on Monday and tells me that they caught on fire, rolled the car, wrecked their… butt*… off, and they’re fine, well, that’s my Victory Lane.

Before anyone throws stones, maybe we should all think a little about what we contribute to the world. We’ve all done stupid things (and I’ve probably done more than my fair share). The difference is that most of us were lucky enough to not be caught. We were allowed to make our mistakes in private.

I’m not arguing that doing good things gives you the right to do bad things, but in the great karmic balance of things, this is not the incident for which Randy La Joie will be remembered. And as proud as I’m sure he is of his racing championships, that’s also not what he is going to be remembered for.

Along with the late Steve Peterson , Dean Sicking and his crew at the University of Nebraska, Gary Nelson, and Tom Gideon (formerly of GM Racing, now with the NASDAR R and D Center), Randy La Joie is one of the people who evangelizes for safety simply because it is the right thing to do, not because they are concerned that losing a popular driver might affect the popularity of a sport and its ability to make money. These are folks who don’t care if you are Jimmie Johnson or a no-name nine-year old in a go kart.

Randy, no one can question your passion and dedication to racing safety. You are one of the people who makes the world a better place – screw ups or no. You became one of my heroes the morning I spent with you in your shop, and you still are.

Footnote: * My favorite part of the morning was when he gave us this great soundbite and we (the crew) were trying to figure out who should ask him if he could do it again exactly the same… without the cuss word!

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