What lies within: for a closer look at the inner workings of a racing team, start at its headquarters: a body shop, engineering research center and funhouse—all on 18 wheels

Sporting News, The, July 15, 2002 by Matt Crossman

Mike Jennings is alone as he drives the green No. 14 Conseco hauler through Tecumseh, Mich. It is 1 a.m. on a Friday, and it's his job to safely deliver the hauler--containing two cars, a mobile garage, a compact kitchen and a combination lounge/dining area--to Michigan International Speedway, completing a 12-hour trip that began in Mooresville, N.C.

He zips by farms, a stamping plant, a wastewater treatment plant, Tecumseh City Hall. Jennings has 16 miles left, with 628 behind him. He continues west, past grocery stores, a Big Boy, an antique mall. Every gas station, every party shop, every single store has a sign: "Race Fans Welcome."

At 1:30 a.m., Jennings parks inside the oval. Race weekend has begun.

7:10 a.m. Friday. `You never know how much you can get away with'

The first thing driver Stacy Compton's crew members do Friday is put the car, a new Grand Prix that never has been raced, through inspections. NASCAR officials use templates to check the body dimensions. Pushing the car from inspection to inspection are Sammy Gonzalez, John Kendrach and Mike Hillman Jr., known as Junior because his dad is the crew chief.

The inspections end at 8 a.m. "How'd we do?" a crew member asks. The laughter in response suggests not good. The car fits the templates like Dale Earnhardt Jr. fits having afternoon tea with the queen. For the rest of the morning, crew members exchange the smirks and rolled eyes of teen-agers in detention. We're in big trouble! Except they're not. They have time to fix the problems.

"You never know how much you can get away with," says crew chief Mike Hillman. "A little team like ours, you have to try a lot."

The Conseco team, owned by racing legend A.J. Foyt, is a relatively young, one-car team that is not yet among racing's elite. Any advantage is welcome. The team, 37th in points through the first 14 points races, is looking for a breakthrough performance. Bad luck from broken parts to untimely cautions--has followed the No. 14 all season. For now, the definition of success is modest: A top 15 would be great.

8:12 a.m. Right-sizing begins

Back at the hauler, Junior takes off the left front tire. Minutes later, sparks fly off the left front of the car. The nose has to be reshaped, and Gonzalez begins the process by sawing a gash that looks like a two-foot-long change slot. Junior, positioned in the wheel well, uses a hydraulic hand pump to push the metal into the proper alignment.

Finally--was this going to take all day?--the bondo comes out. The can: hot pink. The label: RAGE World's Best Premium Lightweight Filler. Gonzalez applies the bondo over the gash. Gray viscous liquid drops onto the ground.

"I love this s--," Junior says to Gonzalez. "It's stupid, but you love it."

Compton arrives, does a quick TV interview, then chats with Hillman and others. The driver's work on the car this weekend is limited to what he does behind the wheel and the feedback he gives to the rest of the team.

As the team goes about its work, NASCAR officials come and go, like gawkers at an accident that's still unfolding. Gonzalez cheese-graters the dried bondo on the right nose. "Sammy the sculptor," the crew chief says.

The spoiler is too tall, which generally speaking improves a car's downforce but specifically speaking is against the rules, at least this week's rules. Using snips, Sean Irvan cuts a sliver off the top of the spoiler, starting from the left. The detritus corkscrews along behind the snips.

11:15 a.m. Huh? What?

The re-inspection poses no problems the whack of a rubber hammer can't solve. The car passes, so it's time to practice. It's time to drive fast and turn left. It's time to go deaf.

In the garage, no matter how loud something is, it always can get louder. It's not just the cars driving on the track or throttling in the garage. It's the sawing, the jawing, the hammering, the yammering, the shouting over the din.

"You get used to it because you lose your hearing," Compton says after closing the hauler doors so he can be heard. He had a physical exam recently. "The doctor told me, `You've got the best eyesight of anybody I've ever had in.' He said, `That's a good thing, because by the time you're 50, you're going to be reading lips.'"

4:40 p.m. Rain delay

Compton had hoped to be long gone for Kentucky, where he's running a Busch race Saturday. He planned to qualify here for the Sirius Satellite Radio 400, then fly there for Happy Hour. But rain arrived when he was fifth in line to qualify. He can't leave until he qualifies or qualifying is cancelled. He's rooting for the latter.

"C'mon, rain," Compton says. "Rain, rain, rain."

As he waits in the hauler, Compton talks with a guy who is following the Winston Cup circuit for a year to write his dissertation for his doctorate in anthropology.

In walks Joe Nemecheck, who also drives on the Busch and Winston Cup circuits. Nemecheck is supposed to fly Compton to Kentucky.

Nemecheck qualified before the rain, but he is waiting to see if Compton can go, too. Nemecheck eventually departs, but he leaves his cell phone number and promises to wait at the airport if Compton calls to say qualifying is canceled. It doesn't happen.