July 10, 2021 started out like any other night at the races. Arrive as early as I can (with my hectic work schedule I'm thankful I can even make it at all) arrive at the track with my camera and safety vest, sign in, get my wristband and go about my thing, making rounds through the pit area and catch up with guys who are like family to me now.
For those of you who don't know, I'm a photographer at Superbowl Speedway in Greenville, TX, it's an absolute blast and I love doing it and all the benefits that come with being a track photographer. I always like to say, my camera hasn't seen a car it didn't like, and I also feel that if there's a new car there, he's going to want to see photos of his car, so I'm "that guy" (there's also 2 other photographers there, and I feel like we are all really close friends, there's a camaraderie with all the photographers in the DFW area).
The night started out as normal, and in my rush to change out from my work clothes to my racing clothes, I forgot my earplugs. It was the least of my worries that night (I love the sound of racing engines zooming by me but I also would like to be able to enjoy the sounds of those when I'm much, much older)
The 600CC mini sprint feature, something went terribly wrong. From my permanent infield perch in the turn 4 infield, I see the red flag being displayed, which means an accident happened and the race is immediately stopped. I look around to see what part of the quarter-mile bullring the incident occurred and to what car. Not 20 feet in front of me I see a yellow 26 car, on its side, on fire. As the car is gradually brought back on all 4s, I noticed something had gone terribly wrong. I see the body of the driver hunched over and the car is completely engulfed in flames. What happened next is the actual point of this post, as to what went horribly wrong and ways for it to be prevented again. For 5 terrifying minutes, the driver is completely engulfed in flames with no signs of help. The 5 minutes felt like an absolute eternity, people frantically running to try and put out the fire by any means necessary. The EMT's that were on site were unfortunately ill-prepared for such a situation. Drivers were running out with only the lower-half of their firesuits and didn't have fire extinguishers, and those that did, the bottles were only good for a couple sprays. I saw look of absolute fear and horror on people's faces and in their eyes as they were trying to get him and the fire put out. I removed my safety vest and set my camera down, I am also not prepared nor trained for any situation like this, but I was frantically screaming out (I was blessed/cursed with a loud, carrying voice), please, someone get a fire extinguisher, let's get him out! My calls fell on deaf ears. Drivers were running with their coolers to try and extinguish the flames. After 5 agonizing minutes they were finally able to get the young man out of his car. I was right next to the ambulance in the infield as they loaded him in, his helmet and HANS device landed at my feet, the visor and inside foam were completely melted due to the intense heat. Needless to say and rightfully so, the remainder of the nights events were canceled. I prayed with one driver on the front stretch for this young man's safety and again with a big group in the pits after the races. I turned my music off in the car as I left for the night and headed home, trying to shake the images that I saw out of my mind, but also once again continuing to pray for the driver, the EMT's and everyone that witnessed the events unfold. I got maybe 3 hours sleep that night, once again with the images burned in my head.
This is where I get to my point. The point of this is about track safety. I am in no way bashing this track. It's my home track, I represent it and the people are like family to me. I almost think that we became too complacent in general that situations wouldn't arise like that at our local track. Fire is every racers biggest fear. I think nobody there was properly prepared as to handle that situation, but we all need to realize, racing is an inherently dangerous sport, at any level, of any class, at any track. Did we let our guard down? Did we lose the mindset of, that can't happen to me?
The young man, Caleb Couch (say his name) died 3 days later of massive head injuries and also sustained 3rd degree burns on 60% of his body. Needless to say, the track has made massive upgrades to both safety personnel at the track and fire safety as well. It was the worst thing I have ever seen at the track, and I've been going to races my entire life. It's an addiction that needs to be fed weekly. I was completely gutted and devastated when I learned of his passing. I didn't know him personally, but after learning about his life and the extraordinary life he lived after his passing, he did more living in 17 years than I've done in nearly 40. And it made the grieving process easier when I found out that he knew Jesus and that his pain in the few days after the accident was only temporary, and he shed his earthly body and is now with Jesus for all of eternity.
The following week, the track canceled the races but instead, had a candlelight vigil memorial for Caleb. The gospel was preached. He was smiling down at the crowd that turned out for a kid, who was relatively unknown at the track (it was his first year racing and I can only recall him being out there one prior time this season) I'm thankful I went.
The main point of this post, is for tracks and drivers in general: don't ever be too safe. Even in 2021. Racing is still inherently dangerous. It's a risk racers sign up for. The rush. The the thrill. The competition. Even if it means paying the ultimate sacrifice.
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