John Potter's column: Waiting

It's hard not to love coming to Road America. The track has so much character, even to a guy like me who didn't grow up a race fan, and the surrounding area is unlike any other. It's insanely green during this time of year, and the surrounding village community of Elkhart Lake seemed to enter the year 1955 and say, "OK, we'll just stop right here." I keep thinking if I look close enough, I'll find Marty McFly.

It's also a track that hasn't been one of our best. In 2012, whatever shred of hope we had at the championship went up in a nice little engine explosion. Last year, we were lucky to get a top-five but honestly we never really had anything for the field in front. Heading in this year, we were optimistic that we'd found a few things after a recent test, but we've clearly struggled during the last few races.

When we rolled out for the first practice, I think we were all a little anxious to see if the testing we'd done was actually going to show on the time sheets. It's tough to describe to anyone outside of the paddock, but the all-new Porsche 911 GT America is a very different beast from what we've had in years past. There seems to be a very, very narrow sweet spot for the car, and with a field as competitive as this year's GTD class, if you miss it just a little you end up off by a lot.

Luckily, we were pretty close. Andy and I were both very happy with the car in practice, and our speed showed. Top-five in every session, and I don't mind gloating that I turned in some of my best times of the year. It's nice when the testing pays off.

Which leads us to qualifying... and things turned. Like I said, it's a very narrow window for performance with the car, and somehow between the new tires, temperature change, and track conditions, Andy had qualified with a handling issue that we've basically not experienced all year. Sorry to you fans but I can't really get in to details, but let's just say the chronic issue we've been having was a little over-solved. Go figure.

All of this being said, the meat of this story is in the race. The first 25 minutes for me were business as usual... clean start, the inevitable early yellow, and just biding my time to deliver the team a clean car as far up the grid as I could.

Unfortunately, another driver had a different opinion on the first restart. I don't want to call anyone out because what's the point, but we had a driver who'd never competed in IMSA before completely misjudge the "accordion" effect that happens for GTD cars at the back of a 50-car field. When we got in to a braking zone, he not only slammed into me, but I in turn slammed into the car ahead of me, and so on. I think four cars were involved in total, including this driver's teammate, so I'm sure he had a lecture when he got out. Beyond myself, I also feel bad for the guys in the No. 63 Ferrari, who were completely innocent and took a lot of damage too.

Regardless, the point of the article is write about "the wait." After the team looked at the car, they told me to drive in to the garage for further repairs, but I was instructed to stay in the car. The reasoning was very simple, IMSA rules state this year that a driver must run a minimum of one-hour on the track (during traditional two-hour, forty-five minute races), which means your time in the garage DOES NOT count. The team needed every minute to get the car back in shape, so they couldn't afford the wasted time of me getting in and out.

So I sit... and I wait.

Sitting there is more painful than a middle seat on Southwest.

When you're sitting there, no one talks to you... they're working. You're just sitting there, strapped in, watching a flurry of bodies jumping underneath and around the car, but you can't see a thing. As both the team owner and driver I want to help, even if it's just handing tools or giving them water.... but my job is to just sit.

When you get in an accident, there's always a voice in the back of your head, even if you're 100% certain you didn't do anything wrong.

"Could I have done something to prevent this?"

"Do the guys hate me for having to jump in like this?"

"Is everyone pissed off at our championship chances?"

As these questions normally bounce around in your head, you're lucky enough to have a co-driver, an engineer, a wife, or even a PR guy (who's paid to kiss your ass) to bounce your feelings off of... and it's very reassuring and cathartic. But when you're sitting in that car, with no one to talk to and watching everyone so frantic, you're completely alone to let your insecurities just build.

The guys got us out in just over 30 minutes, and did everything they could to get us out to meet our minimum drive times. Words can't express how thankful I am for this, and it's simply incredible to see them work off of instinct.

I don't know where this championship will go, but I know I'll do everything I can to never sit like that again.

-John