Trapped in a BURNING CAR.
03-02-2016, 06:32 PM
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Trapped in a BURNING CAR.
Just saw this on FB. It really brought tears to my eyes reading it.
http://sopwithmotorsports.com/
Please, practice getting out of the car, over and over. Get out the same way every time so it's second nature and you can do it with your eyes closed. Of course, wear all your gear. Thoughts and prayers for Stephen *** while he heals.
http://sopwithmotorsports.com/
Please, practice getting out of the car, over and over. Get out the same way every time so it's second nature and you can do it with your eyes closed. Of course, wear all your gear. Thoughts and prayers for Stephen *** while he heals.
__________________
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The apex of performance, comfort & safety since 2011.
All new racewear available now→ traqgear.com
03-02-2016, 06:34 PM
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Here is his post, but please visit his blog and leave him some kinds words.
March 2, 2016
The Stephen *** Blog is Presented by McGunegill Engine Performance
It was the same sound you hear when you pour too much lighter fluid on the charcoal as you're preparing a Fourth of July barbecue. A giant “whoosh” followed by a flash of flame.
Except it was a thousand times louder. And it wasn't charcoal that was on fire. It was me.
On February 13, 2016, I was driving an 8-hour sports car endurance race at the Circuit of the Americas near Austin, Texas. I started inside row 8 and quickly realized that our car was very fast. Within just a few laps we were in the top ten and I had high hopes of scoring my fourth straight endurance racing victory, a personal record.
On COTA's massive back straightaway, the fastest point on the course, I smelled fuel and felt a cold spray over my right hand and leg. There was a sudden flash and my whole world turned a bright, terrifying orange. Everything was on fire.
Flames poured through every crack in the firewall. My right hand was on fire. Splashed with fuel, my right leg was burning as well. Even the inside of the cockpit was ablaze as fuel vapor ignited and literally set the air on fire. I could see nothing. I could not steer the car off the track because I couldn't see the track.
I stomped the brake as hard as I could, but it takes a while to get a Porsche from 125 miles per hour to a dead stop.
In a desperate effort to see, I foolishly raised the visor on my helmet as the car slowed down. It worked. A little. I found the fire extinguisher switch but by this time it was useless. The intensity of the heat was indescribable. I abandoned any thought of doing anything but getting out of the car as quickly as possible.
Only then did I regret not practicing my egress from the car. Yes, I'd gone through the protocols in my mind, but nothing replaces actually practicing a full egress. And I hadn't. This was my first time driving this race car and I had practiced nothing.
Now, as my leg, face and arm continued to burn, I had one dominant thought in my head… “I've got five more seconds. Maybe ten. If anything goes wrong with my egress, I'm going to die.”
I was gripped with an overwhelming urge to panic and slap out the flames on my arm and leg. But I knew that doing so would have been fatal. I had to ignore the pain and let them burn. Getting out of the car was primary and I had to focus on that job alone.
I blindly groped for the safety latch on my harness. I found it and my belts came loose instantly and cleanly. During this brief moment I distinctly recall watching the seams on my racing suit burn and finally split open. It had held up well, but couldn't take any more. The Nomex underwear beneath it burned through and I could see the flesh on my leg catch fire.
I looked for the release catch on the window net. It was painted bright red and easy to find. I grabbed the lever, pulled it back and threw the net out the window. There was a black hole on the back of my right glove where the fire had burned through. Flames still licked around the edges.
I didn't bother unplugging the radio cord from my helmet. With enough pressure it would break free on its own. I didn't remove the steering wheel.
Still burning, I clambered out of the car and the upper half of my body fell free, while my feet were pinned under the steering wheel. Through the pain I remember yelling, “God, help me!” about twenty times in a row. I wasn't cursing. I was praying. I actually needed His help. After a few seconds of wriggling I was completely clear of the race car, which by this time was consumed in flames six feet high.
Instinctively, I began rolling on the pavement and in ten seconds or so had managed to extinguish the flames on my body. Then I got up, staggered off the track to the grass, and collapsed.
The EMT's arrived in record time. They removed my helmet, then pulled my gloves off. Despite their best efforts, I watched in horror as the skin on the back of my right thumb dripped off my hand.
“We can't move him,” one of them said. I was in shock, but I remember the other responding, “We have to. This car's gonna blow any second.” With that, they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me like a sack of potatoes another thirty feet away from the race car, which was entirely engulfed in flames and emitting a plume of black smoke high into the sky.
They gently put me into the ambulance and began cutting off my fire suit. The EMT's were professional, compassionate and good at their jobs. I wondered how serious my injuries were. When I heard the engine of the lifeline helicopter warming up five minutes later, I knew.
The medical personnel in the helicopter were equally professional. The EMT attending me during the flight, a red-headed woman in her thirties, was fiddling with a big syringe undoubtedly meant for me. Barely able to speak through my burned throat, I grabbed her hand. She leaned over and asked me if I needed anything. “Yes,” I said. “I need you to look at me and tell me I'm going to be alright.”
She stopped her work long enough to look dead into my eyes and promise me that I was going to be fine. Then she picked up the syringe again and told me we were about to land.
My world went black and I remember nothing of the next 46 hours.
First, second and third degree burns covered 7% of my body. The worst injuries were to my face, my right arm and my right leg. I was transported to the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, where I spent the next three days in intensive care followed by six more in the burn recovery unit. My doctor later told me that the injuries were “considered very life threatening” for the first 24 hours, but a full recovery is expected now.
That's my story. In my next blog, I'll tell you what I learned from it and what I'll do differently before I return to racing.
***FROM SERIES OFFICIALS - We would like to help Stephen through this difficult time, and we have started this Relief Fund project for Stephen and his family. Please share this on your social media and help support the effort with any donation, big or small. Thank you.
Stephen ***
Sopwith Motorsports Television Productions
Co-host, Mecum Auctions on NBCSN
Driver, Boschett Timepieces/Impact Racing #21
March 2, 2016
The Stephen *** Blog is Presented by McGunegill Engine Performance
It was the same sound you hear when you pour too much lighter fluid on the charcoal as you're preparing a Fourth of July barbecue. A giant “whoosh” followed by a flash of flame.
Except it was a thousand times louder. And it wasn't charcoal that was on fire. It was me.
On February 13, 2016, I was driving an 8-hour sports car endurance race at the Circuit of the Americas near Austin, Texas. I started inside row 8 and quickly realized that our car was very fast. Within just a few laps we were in the top ten and I had high hopes of scoring my fourth straight endurance racing victory, a personal record.
On COTA's massive back straightaway, the fastest point on the course, I smelled fuel and felt a cold spray over my right hand and leg. There was a sudden flash and my whole world turned a bright, terrifying orange. Everything was on fire.
Flames poured through every crack in the firewall. My right hand was on fire. Splashed with fuel, my right leg was burning as well. Even the inside of the cockpit was ablaze as fuel vapor ignited and literally set the air on fire. I could see nothing. I could not steer the car off the track because I couldn't see the track.
I stomped the brake as hard as I could, but it takes a while to get a Porsche from 125 miles per hour to a dead stop.
In a desperate effort to see, I foolishly raised the visor on my helmet as the car slowed down. It worked. A little. I found the fire extinguisher switch but by this time it was useless. The intensity of the heat was indescribable. I abandoned any thought of doing anything but getting out of the car as quickly as possible.
Only then did I regret not practicing my egress from the car. Yes, I'd gone through the protocols in my mind, but nothing replaces actually practicing a full egress. And I hadn't. This was my first time driving this race car and I had practiced nothing.
Now, as my leg, face and arm continued to burn, I had one dominant thought in my head… “I've got five more seconds. Maybe ten. If anything goes wrong with my egress, I'm going to die.”
I was gripped with an overwhelming urge to panic and slap out the flames on my arm and leg. But I knew that doing so would have been fatal. I had to ignore the pain and let them burn. Getting out of the car was primary and I had to focus on that job alone.
I blindly groped for the safety latch on my harness. I found it and my belts came loose instantly and cleanly. During this brief moment I distinctly recall watching the seams on my racing suit burn and finally split open. It had held up well, but couldn't take any more. The Nomex underwear beneath it burned through and I could see the flesh on my leg catch fire.
I looked for the release catch on the window net. It was painted bright red and easy to find. I grabbed the lever, pulled it back and threw the net out the window. There was a black hole on the back of my right glove where the fire had burned through. Flames still licked around the edges.
I didn't bother unplugging the radio cord from my helmet. With enough pressure it would break free on its own. I didn't remove the steering wheel.
Still burning, I clambered out of the car and the upper half of my body fell free, while my feet were pinned under the steering wheel. Through the pain I remember yelling, “God, help me!” about twenty times in a row. I wasn't cursing. I was praying. I actually needed His help. After a few seconds of wriggling I was completely clear of the race car, which by this time was consumed in flames six feet high.
Instinctively, I began rolling on the pavement and in ten seconds or so had managed to extinguish the flames on my body. Then I got up, staggered off the track to the grass, and collapsed.
The EMT's arrived in record time. They removed my helmet, then pulled my gloves off. Despite their best efforts, I watched in horror as the skin on the back of my right thumb dripped off my hand.
“We can't move him,” one of them said. I was in shock, but I remember the other responding, “We have to. This car's gonna blow any second.” With that, they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me like a sack of potatoes another thirty feet away from the race car, which was entirely engulfed in flames and emitting a plume of black smoke high into the sky.
They gently put me into the ambulance and began cutting off my fire suit. The EMT's were professional, compassionate and good at their jobs. I wondered how serious my injuries were. When I heard the engine of the lifeline helicopter warming up five minutes later, I knew.
The medical personnel in the helicopter were equally professional. The EMT attending me during the flight, a red-headed woman in her thirties, was fiddling with a big syringe undoubtedly meant for me. Barely able to speak through my burned throat, I grabbed her hand. She leaned over and asked me if I needed anything. “Yes,” I said. “I need you to look at me and tell me I'm going to be alright.”
She stopped her work long enough to look dead into my eyes and promise me that I was going to be fine. Then she picked up the syringe again and told me we were about to land.
My world went black and I remember nothing of the next 46 hours.
First, second and third degree burns covered 7% of my body. The worst injuries were to my face, my right arm and my right leg. I was transported to the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, where I spent the next three days in intensive care followed by six more in the burn recovery unit. My doctor later told me that the injuries were “considered very life threatening” for the first 24 hours, but a full recovery is expected now.
That's my story. In my next blog, I'll tell you what I learned from it and what I'll do differently before I return to racing.
***FROM SERIES OFFICIALS - We would like to help Stephen through this difficult time, and we have started this Relief Fund project for Stephen and his family. Please share this on your social media and help support the effort with any donation, big or small. Thank you.
Stephen ***
Sopwith Motorsports Television Productions
Co-host, Mecum Auctions on NBCSN
Driver, Boschett Timepieces/Impact Racing #21
03-02-2016, 08:18 PM
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Thanks guys. If you are able, please consider a donation for Stephen. Someone set up a gofundme campaign for him.
https://www.gofundme.com/WRLRacerReliefFund
I'm sure his family could use the help.
https://www.gofundme.com/WRLRacerReliefFund
I'm sure his family could use the help.
03-02-2016, 08:40 PM
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I heard the guy was driving an Enzo! 
Actually, this thread belongs here in Racing & DE Forum so I am glad Roger posted it.
Recently I was watching a video from a few years ago where I was driving in the summer in a shirtsleeve t-shirt. Man is that stupid.
I am always suited up now and anyone who wants to call me "that guy" at a DE for wearing a race suit can suck it.
Actually, this thread belongs here in Racing & DE Forum so I am glad Roger posted it.
Recently I was watching a video from a few years ago where I was driving in the summer in a shirtsleeve t-shirt. Man is that stupid.
I am always suited up now and anyone who wants to call me "that guy" at a DE for wearing a race suit can suck it.
03-03-2016, 12:38 AM
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Just bought my suit last week and now am so glad I did. This is scary stuff and could happen to anyone, at any time. Jesus this is frightening. Praying for Steven and family... No excuse anymore after reading this to not have a suit or some form of protection. With all we spend on the cars and events and all those things to make us 2 seconds faster, we need to focus on what's important and that is the 10 seconds something like a suit might buy you if this happened to you. Think about what this outcome would be without the suit....
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03-03-2016, 12:51 AM
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Frightening story but I do have to ask, where was the fuel spraying from? Did they remove the dash and heater, and leave the hole open? Did the car have a fuel cell, and no firewall between the lines at the top of the cell and the driver?
03-03-2016, 01:09 AM
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Originally Posted by ELange0322
Just bought my suit last week and now am so glad I did. This is scary stuff and could happen to anyone, at any time. Jesus this is frightening. Praying for Steven and family... No excuse anymore after reading this to not have a suit or some form of protection. With all we spend on the cars and events and all those things to make us 2 seconds faster, we need to focus on what's important and that is the 10 seconds something like a suit might buy you if this happened to you. Think about what this outcome would be without the suit....
What a horrible story.
03-03-2016, 08:57 AM
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I believe it is a 944.
03-03-2016, 09:53 AM
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944 Turbo 
03-03-2016, 10:11 AM
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praying for the driver and his recovery, truly scary stuff.
But what I take away from this, more than the need for a suit, is make sure your firewall is sealed....
From SCCA rulebook "unsealed hole in firewall or floorboard are not allowed" yet every "racecar" I know does not follow that rule.
But what I take away from this, more than the need for a suit, is make sure your firewall is sealed....
From SCCA rulebook "unsealed hole in firewall or floorboard are not allowed" yet every "racecar" I know does not follow that rule.
03-03-2016, 10:18 AM
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praying for the driver and his recovery, truly scary stuff. But what I take away from this, more than the need for a suit, is make sure your firewall is sealed.... If you penetrate the firewall to run a hose, or a wire, or whatever... it MUST have a grommet that seals the hole.... Not just to protect the wire, but to keep separation between the compartments.
03-03-2016, 10:19 AM
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praying for the driver and his recovery, truly scary stuff. But what I take away from this, more than the need for a suit, is make sure your firewall is sealed.... If you penetrate the firewall to run a hose, or a wire, or whatever... it MUST have a grommet that seals the hole.... Not just to protect the wire, but to keep separation between the compartments.
Scary - God speed on recovery