First things first: I’ve been putting off making this post for several months, so I should point out that the immediate reason for me making it now is Tumblr’s ban on adult content. I don’t agree with what @staff is doing in the slightest (and if you want to know more on how I feel about that, see my personal blog), but it’s got nothing to do with me. I don’t post NSFW things, I don’t follow NSFW blogs, and I don’t like posts from NSFW blogs. There’s no reason anything on my own blog or this blog should get flagged for NSFW content. But I know Tumblr. I know that what half of y’all are really here for is porn, and I can respect that. I expect you’ll all be leaving in droves once the ban becomes official, so I figure that before you go, I had ought to give anybody who was wondering a reason why this blog stopped posting.

I started this blog in February 2017 as an outlet for my love of racing history. My actual motivation for starting the blog was that I felt that American open-wheel racing history (i.e. IndyCar) was too often forgotten, and I wanted to dedicate part of this blog to it. I knew that this by itself wouldn’t attract many followers, so I started using photos from NASCAR and Formula One as well. From its inception, this blog was always a one man operation. Over the weekend, when I had nothing else to do, I would go through Pinterest and Google Images looking for old racing action shots that I thought were interesting enough to go on this blog. And I always had my submissions box open in case anyone else wanted to help me find interesting images to put here. It was fun for a while. And over time, this blog gained more attention and followers than my personal blog ever could. 

After a little more than a year of operating this blog, good racing images started to get hard to find. I usually knew where to go to find decent Formula One pictures, but I couldn’t always find good NASCAR or IndyCar images (mid-70′s USAC images were the toughest to come across). I did my best to keep this blog active on a daily basis, but over time, trying to maintain this blog, which had been getting increasingly difficult, began to feel like an obligation; a chore. I had some 4,000 followers at the time, and though I could appreciate that that many people shared my interest in motorsports, I couldn’t really keep up with them or deal with the pressure. Eventually I just decided that I didn’t need that extra stress.

This blog was only meant to be on a temporary hiatus because of that, but then my interest in motor racing in general took a turn for the worse. NASCAR was my first love; I started watching in 2007 and it was my introduction to the world of motor racing. But as most of you know, NASCAR has been held down by terrible management, constant rule changes, heavily inconsistent officiating, dwindling car counts, and a dismal on-track product, all of which have alienated me from keeping up with the sport every week since 2015. The 2019 rules package was the last straw – I see it as NASCAR wants to turn every race into a pack race, which is absolutely mindless and serves to make every race a boring suckfest with a lottery winner. That’s not what I watch racing for, and though I will continue to watch the Daytona 500 and the Southern 500 every year, my interest in NASCAR is all but gone. Most of the traffic that comes from this blog is from Formula One fans, and though I have respect for them and the sport, I cannot confidently say I was ever really a devoted Formula One fan. I live in America; if I wanted to keep up with every race live as it happened, I’d usually have to wake up pretty early in the morning for it, which throws off my sleeping schedule (not to mention Formula One isn’t that big over here anyway). If it weren’t for IndyCar, I would not be watching racing at all right now. I’m proud to call myself an IndyCar fan, and while I will continue to watch IndyCar into 2019, there’s not a whole lot for me to do with it during the off-season except wait. With all that in mind, it’s hard for me to find the motivation to pick up this blog again.

So that’s it, really. General lack of interest and failure to deal with the pressure of running a popular blog led to this blog’s demise. I have more than 6,000 followers now and I apologize that I wasn’t able to keep it afloat for long enough to please all of you. If for some reason you’re interested in me and what I’ve been doing, my personal blog is @goingsovereign, and I’m not going to be leaving Tumblr anytime soon (though I do regret having to watch so many of its users abandon the site). I can guarantee you my personal blog is a lot less interesting than this one though; it’s more of an outlet for my emo side. I will be starting to set up commissions for my graphic design work in the very near future (before the end of the month), and when it’s set up I’ll probably post info and links to this blog as well. 

Catch you on the flip side.



October 16th is always a sentimental day for me. What once used to be a day like any other is now stained with awful memories of the accident that took one of motor racing’s greatest talents in Dan Wheldon. I write this eulogy every year to justify why six years later, I can’t allow myself to forget Dan Wheldon.

I was not yet a racing fan in 2005 when Dan won his first Indianapolis 500. But according to everything I’ve been told, that was something of a hollow victory for Dan. He was hardly acknowledged as the race winner, because so much media attention had gone towards Danica Patrick becoming the first woman to lead the Indianapolis 500. 2011 was something special. Wheldon did not have a car that should have won the race that year, and he was mostly anonymous all race long. The centennial anniversary race of the Indianapolis 500 came down to pit strategy, and in the closing laps, Wheldon found himself in second place. The guy that was leading on the last lap, J.R. Hildebrand, oversteered around Charlie friggin’ Kimball and socked the wall in the final turn. Wheldon, who had been about half a straightaway back, passed Hildebrand’s crippled machine in the final thousand feet of the race and stole the victory. Wheldon’s victory should be considered something of an upset, but for Wheldon, for the first time, it was his victory. Likewise, for the first time he had a family to celebrate it with. So when the offer came through for Wheldon to run the season finale and try to win the race from the last starting position for a purse of one million dollars, you couldn’t blame him for wanting to give it a go while his confidence was riding high.

I was thirteen years old when it happened. I was not watching the Las Vegas race that Wheldon was killed in. I don’t remember why. First I heard of Wheldon’s accident was on a message board that I frequented, and it was not until much later that I saw the ABC broadcast of the race that day. Something that always struck me was Wheldon’s poise during pre-race and the pace laps. He was so ecstatic and ready to go. He was going to win that race, and you’d be damned if you were going to stop him. And it’s all so eerie now, looking back on it. Wheldon was talking to the ABC broadcast booth during the pace laps, and he said, “what a way to go out”. And nobody, not one of us knew it then that those words were about to take on a whole new meaning.

Ten laps later, Wheldon had worked his way past several cars and now was running solidly mid-field. ABC was showing Wheldon’s onboard camera crossing the front chute approaching Turn 1. A few cars got together just up the road. ABC cuts to a wider shot of the first turn. Seconds later, I watched helplessly as Wheldon’s car launched off of another, somersaulted in mid-air once, and slammed the catchfence cockpit-first. Deafening silence followed. The world went blank. Even after knowing that Wheldon was gone in that moment, you could feel the air of consternation start to set in over the speedway. The atmosphere of brimming excitement was replaced with panic. Several minutes pass before IndyCar CEO Randy Barnard finally reveals to a crowded press room the news that nobody wanted to hear – Dan Wheldon had been fatally injured in the accident in Turn 1.

The tributes followed. The effect was visible on the drivers. They were teary-eyed in their interviews, trying to explain that the risk of death was an inherent part of motor racing, but inside they couldn’t care less. They talked about Dan, and the feelings they had towards him. The race was abandoned and stripped from the record books. The remaining drivers not involved in the Turn 1 melee fired up their cars for five laps around Las Vegas Motor Speedway at pace speed in three-abreast formation, while bagpipes blared and the scoring pylon was blanked except for Dan’s #77. And finally, ABC anchor Marty Reid’s closing words before broadcast sign-off, “People ask me why always end with ‘Until we meet again’. It’s because goodbye is always so final. Goodbye, Dan Wheldon.”

At the time, all of this was completely foreign to me. A death of this magnitude wasn’t something I had ever experienced before. And in the hours, the days after Wheldon’s death, all the controversy regarding that race weekend, all the context were replaced immediately with thoughts of Dan and the family he left behind. His wife Susie a widow, his children Sebastian and Oliver now fatherless. I heard my friends, my fellow racing fans reminiscing and commiserating about Dan. Drivers and fans from all over were extending their sympathies. This bright, flamboyant, luminous personality that Dan exhibited had suddenly vanished, and all of us were left with the faded memories of his triumphs and the impressions he had on those around him. You couldn’t help but realize the dumb irony, that just months ago we were celebrating Dan’s surprise victory in the Indianapolis 500. And that’s when it all hit me. In the days following, people would try to talk to me about the accident, but I didn’t want to say anything. Everything was pointless, nothing mattered.

That’s what Dan’s death means to me even now, six years later. It was a proverbial loss of innocence, both as a person and as a racing fan. It was the first time I could adequately remember what happened when somebody died, and the first time I could remember how I felt about it. What Dan’s death taught me is that we’re all mortal. Our hobbies and our jobs are just something to tide us over en route to the grave. Dan’s line of work was more dangerous than most. He accepted the risk and paid the ultimate price for it. But the way he lived his life; the profound affect he had on his friends and family reminds me that in this life, all we have are the connections we make. When you meet your end, you still survive through all the ones you’ve loved. The way you interact with those around you reflects on what they will remember about you when you’re gone.

To this day, I have been fortunate enough to have never seen a fatal accident in motor racing on live television. And yet, whenever I think about death, inside and out of racing, it’s always Dan that comes to mind. Death is futile, and it happens over and over again. And everytime I’m faced with it, the feeling I have reflects what I felt in regards to that sunny October day six years ago.

For now and all times, rest in peace Dan Wheldon.

Seven years now. Still haven’t forgotten.

Putting this blog on hiatus for a few days.

I have a lot going on right now and updating this blog is on low priority. I’ll be back.

A long train of cars winds up the hill at Riverside.
CART PPG IndyCar World Series, Riverside International Raceway, 1982 AirCal 500

The field prepares to take the green flag at Daytona.
NASCAR Winston Cup Series, Daytona International Speedway, 1971 Daytona 500

Bruce McLaren’s Cooper thunders across the wet tarmac at Spa.
FIA Formula One World Championship, Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, 1963 Belgian Grand Prix

Pit road opens at Indy.
Indy Racing League, Indianapolis Motor Speedway, 1998 Indianapolis 500

Dale Earnhardt (#3) runs door-to-door with Tim Richmond (#27) at Bristol.
NASCAR Winston Cup Series, Bristol International Speedway, 1985 Busch 500

Al Unser, Jr. (#5) dives it into the turn ahead of several cars at Long Beach.
CART PPG Indy Car World Series, Long Beach Street Circuit, 1990 Toyota Grand Prix of Long Beach

Emerson Fittipaldi (#1 McLaren) puts a lap on Jean-Pierre Jarier (#17 Shadow) at Zandvoort.
FIA Formula One World Championship, Circuit Zandvoort, 1975 Dutch Grand Prix