So why, when I get up for work at half seven, was my alarm ringing at 4:30 on Saturday morning? Why do I get up at these times when I could be having a lie in? I’m sure I have a screw loose.
This weekend, however, answered these questions for me. It was an amazing two days at Anglesey perched on the rescue unit, flirting with the coast of the Irish Sea in the sunshine and watching what was, at times, some excellent racing. The usual insane conversation matter and fits of laughter made the meeting a belter, too.
The rescue unit isn’t just going to crumpled cars, there’s more to it than that. And no, I don’t mean eating cake and drinking coffee however, there’s a bit of that too. Our day always starts with checking the hydraulic equipment and ensuring the kit works. An essential as it also gives us a chance to refresh our skills and to show trainee crew members the equipment again. Quite often, whilst qualifying is taking place, we will continue to train and explore the van, so long as the radio is to hand and we have a ‘throw it in the back if we get a shout’ plan. Saturday morning was like this, just without the shout.
Attending incidents is always a case of wonder. We often don’t know what’s happened unless we’ve seen it, so we assess as we come up to the scene. You won’t, or shouldn’t, see us running off the van and around the place. That’s not that we don’t care instead we’re thinking and looking in a calm way this is to formulate a plan to deal with it in the most efficient way. A jog back to the unit for equipment is another matter.
When three cars decided to play twister (see blog here for full details) exiting turn two on lap three, of a three-hour race on Saturday, we were off on our first scramble of the weekend. Great! A chance for me to practice my racing lines. On a more serious note, we knew there was a disabled driver struggling to get out of his car (he was a double leg amputee) and another driver with back pains.
After some talking with the pilots, and assessments carried out in conjunction with the doctors, they self-extracted and were transported by ourselves to the med centre for observations. It’s nice to hear only minor injuries had been sustained and they would go home in one piece.
The rest of the day was a standard mix of race chases and a couple of driver checks when errant cars had taken a fancy to the North Wales scenery.
Much the same for Sunday, a scramble to a heavy impact which resulted in two very short Alfa Romeo racers, again just minor injuries, and the usual routines of the day.
The childish giggles we share on the unit, the training we complete, the unhealthy array of fatty sugary foods we consume and mostly the social side of the weekend is why that alarm rings at 4.30 and why my friends and family all think I’m insane.
So as another weekend at a circuit draws to a close, I have once again eaten rubbish, caught the sun, watched some great racing, furthered my knowledge of the rescue/medical world but most of all, had a fab time with great people, away from the day to day job. It’s Knockhill next for our unit, so I’m off to give it a good clean, tidy up and a once over. I’ve already panicked a neighbour into thinking someone in the road was ill.