We’ve always been taught to approach limits cautiously. The final few increments before it are the sweet spot for any racer. Finding that sweet spot and staying on it as long as possible is the reason behind all that practice, and all that lecture about a car’s dynamics. Yet all the lectures and practice sessions in the world can’t prepare you for those freak moments that the limits are breeched, or in some cases, moved unexpectedly closer than anticipated. It only takes a split second — a variable missed — for all hell, or in our case, the tail end to break loose.
Perhaps from an avid amateur’s end the temptation of false presumptions is always there. While you’re working towards the outer limits, the few factors that can rocket you through that threshold are all too easily forgotten — it’s a chance/fluke that shouldn’t be taken for granted. It could be anything, really: the human factor, mechanical failure, a global event.
Perhaps the fallacy is working towards improvement in a presumed perfect environment; where all will fall as planned, provided you do it as planned. We often blame ourselves for not pushing hard enough, or pushing too hard when the time sheets reflect the deficiency. We succumb to our own pressures, constantly seeking that extra inch of road or momentum, which inevitably leads to a lower time. The much more random factors are suddenly overlooked. We presume we’re incapable of consistency. Whereas, our own instruments and environment are very much capable of suffering the same problem.
If there’s one thing I learned from the crash today (Thankfully, my colleague only suffers from a bruised ego resulting from fellow males' natural instinct for picking on weaknesses.), it’s that there’s another passenger in that car, besides the navigator. Her name is chance, and sometimes, she wants to get in on the action too.
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