Given the same problem to tackle, different engineers will come up with different solutions. Now most of those solutions will work, they will be valid, and could happily be applied. There will always be a few that are just a little too “out there” to make it.
The interesting thing with solutions is that the best one can vary wildly depending on the circumstances. What works during a design stage, or during testing, is not necessarily going to be desirable during a race situation.
An example from a recent race…
On a British Touring Car there is a small radio receiver known as the “Beacon”. This clever little bit of kit is used by the on-board electronics and data logging systems to separate each lap during a race. It provides a cut-off between laps, and generates the comparative lap time and split timings to the driver on the dash display.
In all honesty, this is not a critical piece of kit for the race. The driver rarely looks at his laptimes during a race. It’s main use is during post-race analysis where data engineers such as myself can use it for comparison and navigation.
Where this is important the driver however, is during qualifying. During qualifying, a driver wants to know exactly where he or she is gaining or loosing time, and would like a comparison to a previous or theoretical best lap. Not having a beacon during qualifying is a huge disadvantage.
During a recent BTCC round, we noticed that the driver radioed to say he did not have laptimes appearing on the dash. When the car came in for new tyres, I inspected the beacon and saw that it’s mount had rotated around the rollcage meaning it no longer pointed out of the window. No line of site to the transmitter means no lap time. A simple fix; I forced the beacon back around and away he went.
Three laps later, we receive another radio call.
"No Lap Time."
However, this time I was ready. Before the car was back in the pitlane, I had several lengths of duct tape torn off and taped to my trouser (USA: Pant) leg. As soon as the car stopped, I rotated the beacon again, and secured it with copious amounts of tape. It was crude and messy. It was not what you might call the ideal solution. But the two most important things about this particular solution are:
Would duct tape have been approved when the car was designed? Of course not!
Would it have been signed off during the build process? Nope.
Had the issue occurred during testing, would the duct tape still be on the car? I really doubt it.
My duct tape only stayed on the car for qualifying. Before the race, I applied a much neater and permanent solution. Rubber strips installed between the rollcage and mount mean nothing moves now. This was also applied to the second car in the team to proactively prevent the issue happening there too.
Solutions can be fluid, they evolve and develop. Solutions should not only match problems; they need to match circumstance. As an engineer at a race track, you need to be prepared to come up with fast but workable solutions. You will be under pressure. No one will expect your solution to look like art work, but they will certainly expect your solution to work.
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Well it certainly has been a dramatic few weeks in motorsport. There have been some fantastic races, some brilliant comebacks, and some really low moments.
The recent Formula One races have been exciting, and it is great to see that coming back in to the championship. We have also witnessed a comeback on a biblical scale of Porsche at the Le Mans; dead last, to the top step of the podium. But it is the low points that I really want to talk about.
At Donington Park on 16th April Billy “Whizz” Monger was involved in a shocking and devastating crash at Craner Curve. Billy’s car collided with a stationary car, that was totally unsighted and received life-changing injuries. Both his legs were amputated below the knee.
I was there. I was in the pit garages whilst this crash was broadcast live. The atmosphere in the paddock was immensely dark. The sheer speed of the impact brought on fears of the very worst, and the 90 minute extrication of Billy from the car only fuelled concerns.
But this incident is not what the focus should be. Yes there are lessons to be learnt, but what you have to know is that Billy was back at a race track as soon as he could be. He has been spotted at British Touring Car Championship races since the incident, speaking with fans, drivers, teams and the media. He has even signed up with a V de V team for a race in Portugal. He, along with Frédéric Sausset and another as yet unnamed driver intend to field a team of 3 disabled drivers for Le Mans in 2020.
Billy has become an inspiration. Billy has personified the feeling in the paddock towards teams and drivers. Billy has shown that nothing should hold you back from your passion.
Unfortunately, the crash at Donington was not the only incident to blight the BTCC paddock. During qualifying at Croft, a 12 car pile-up occurred. Several drivers received serious injuries from this incident, with Luke Davenport and Jeff Smith being airlifted to a nearby hospital. Again, extrication took an inordinate amount of time so as not to make injuries worse, and Luke was still in an induced coma until very recently.
The crash itself could be analysed for months. The reason Davenport’s car dropped oil in the first place has been speculated about by the paddock, but I won’t be commenting on that speculation. The fact that 12 cars could pile in to the incident before a red flag was issued should be questioned. (We radioed our drivers to call the Red Flag before it was announced by the officials).
You do have to marvel at the crash structures of the cars however. The impact speeds are well in excess of 120mph, and, despite their injuries, all drivers survived. The roll cages, harnesses, HANS devices and seats all absorbed the energy rather than the driver’s body’s. Yes Luke and Jeff were seriously injured, but they are alive. And that is a testament to the safety improvements of the cars themselves.
We also have to remember the stress under which the extrication and medical teams were working. The sheer number of injured drivers in that incident, was compounded by the seriousness of some of the injuries. On top of that, moving a person that badly injured always risks doing more damage. These people make racing possible.
Both Luke and Jeff have publicly expressed their gratitude to the not only the medical and extrication teams, but also to the fans, team mates and rivals who all gave an outpouring of good wishes. When an incident such as this occurs, there is no longer a rivalry between teams. It stops being about the winning. The mood in the paddock changes and people want to know that their colleagues are OK .
Motorsport is dangerous. We all know that. But the surprising way in which the entire paddock and grandstands react when that danger comes to the forefront is incredible.
I finished university several years ago full of enthusiasm and confidence. My degree was strong, my knowledge base solid and my vision of the future crystal clear. However, my first assignment in my new job role opened my eyes to just how little I really knew about the motorsport world.
Having worked for Cosworth Electronics for a matter of weeks, I was sent to support a World Record Attempt for a twin jet turbine engined speed boat. Not the formula cars I had worked on throughout university. Not the closed wheel monsters I was familiar with from weekend work. Speedboats.
Now don't get me wrong, speedboats are cool. This particular speed boat had over 6000hp and was over 15 meters in length. Despite its carbon fibre hull, the catamaran still weighed 3 tonnes. This thing was a colossus.
The boat was so far removed from anything I had learnt about during my studies, and was not something I had even considered when it came to motorsport. Suddenly, I felt way in over my head.
I spent the 2 days prior to the run getting familiar with the beast. I traced wiring through the hull. I plugged in my laptop and offloaded datasets, settings and logged data. I scrutinised every aspect of the boat that was accessible to me in an attempt to understand the task that lay ahead of me. I kept in constant contact with more experienced engineers back in the UK, and slowly managed to take a bite out of the huge elephant. I was fortunate that support from Cosworth was fantastic which really helped things.
Then came the big day. A world record attempt was on the cards.
A fear of overshooting the stopping zone at the end of the course meant dragster style parachutes were attached to the boat. Unfortunately these deployed prematurely due to the intense g-forces. On that failed run, the boat made 210mph. TWO HUNDRED AND TEN MILES PER HOUR WITH THE PARACHUTES DEPLOYED. This indicated that the parachutes in fact would have very little affect, and so were removed for run number two.
Despite a nasty accident of another boat during the event, the pilots throttled on from the staging area and brought the speed up. All the way to 244mph. A new record.
My part in this endeavour was small. The boat had been set up prior to me arriving by a colleague and I was really only there to monitor for errors. But I was still a part of it. The feeling within the team, with the pilots, the engineers, the mechanics, was euphoric.
I had survived my baptism of fire. And am a far better engineer for doing so.
The standard format of most races is as follows:
Line up on the grid
Drive a formation lap
Line up on the grid… again
Start the Race
Drive the Race
Finish the Race
Not complex. Not messy. Not taxing. Sometimes this format isn't quite followed. Sometimes things don't quite go to plan.
At the British Touring Car Championship season opener this past weekend, the race did not get going until the third attempt. Following two formation laps (as it is a short circuit) the first race had an aborted start as the pole sitter suffered mechanical difficulties. This would have almost guaranteed a huge incident so the safest thing to do was wait.
After another two formation laps, the cars lined up again. This time there was a huge incident on the start/finish straight and the race was red flagged after just a few hundred meters of racing. The cars drove around the track, stopping short of the grid to allow for clean-up. During this time the cars were in parc ferme, but mechanics were given access to allow for final checks and to ensure the cars kept cool.
After yet another two formation laps, the cars lined up once again. Finally we got the race started.
Whilst all of this was going on, the team radios were alive with chatter. The track and championship officials were communicating with team managers, trying to keep them informed of what was happening. The team managers were informing the drivers' engineers, and the engineers were informing the drivers. Questions about grid position, formation laps, fuel quantities, temperatures, pressures, strategy and tyre choice. The sheer amount of information being exchanged was colossal.
Throughout all of this though, the team remained calm and collected. There was no panic and, all things being considered, everything ran smoothly for the restart. And the reason for this sense of calm in such a chaotic situation?
Whatever the outcome, and whatever the circumstance, there is a process for dealing with it. Processes may be general and generic, but can be tailored to suit situations such as this. Having both the experience and confidence to deal with chaotic and fluid situations sets the difference between the good teams and the best teams. And each element within those teams must have that same mindset and that same preparedness.
Spend the time between races planning and practicing for every eventuality.
Fail to Prepare - Prepare to Fail.
Carroll Smith felt strongly that every apprentice, every mechanic and every engineer that worked on a race car should have attended a driving school prior to doing so. The reason he thought this was a good idea (and even included in his own apprenticeship programs) is it is the best way to gain an understanding of how a car behaves. Learning about understeer or oversteer or balance or aero effects from a text book doesn't mean you know what understeer, oversteer, balance or aero effects actually are. You cannot have a kinaesthetic feeling for what they actually do to a car.
Gaining experience in how a car behaves will set an engineer apart, especially early in his or her career. Drivers, for all the skills, are not necessarily engineers. I have worked with numerous drivers over the years and there are some who strive to have a thorough understanding of the car and the laws of physics, and then there are those who drive on feel and can struggle to communicate what the car is doing, or even what they want it to be doing. If you, as their engineer, can decipher what it is that they want and need from the car, then you are going to earn your pay at the track. If you can understand elaborate hand motions and wishy-washy language from a driver who is not an engineer, you are doing very well.
Understanding how a car really behaves, in the real-world, transient conditions found on a race track does not come from university lectures, college classes or 2 inch thick text books. It comes from experience. It comes from taking the time to throw yourself in to the experience of racing. In all likelihood, no one will pay for you to learn to drive fast. You'll have to fund it yourself. Although as your experience and network grows, you're more likely to find someone who can help you make it happen a little cheaper. If you get the chance to start translating what a driver is telling you in to a real world take it. It will be incredibly valuable to you as an engineer, and it will probably be a lot of fun…
Everything on a racing car affects something else. Nothing works in isolation, and understanding the complex systems and links between the systems is crucial to engineering a winning car.
I've discussed before how compromise is needed to win races. That having an optimal overall system is more important and optimising each system on its own. But within those systems, you have often unseen and not so obvious links that can have a detrimental effect on the overall package.
I'll use a few examples to show you what I mean:
Most modern racing cars will have the ability to alter the engine map depending on driver preference and prevailing track conditions. This usually involves altering ever so slightly how power is delivered, however some championships may allow for more than this. There are situations where more aggressive, higher power engine maps are used during qualifying for example. These maps put a huge strain on the engine, but are only used for a relatively short period of time.
What is often overlooked is how these engine changes will affect the traction. A driver may complain that they cannot use the power when they want to out of corner, and so a less aggressive map will be used. However this will reduce the slip ratio for the driven axle, potentially inducing understeer.
Worse than this, your chassis engineer may decide that the issue of corner exit traction can be rectified through kinematic and geometry changes. If both chassis and engine changes are made, you can easily end up going too far and ruining the overall balance or making the car sluggish.
Changing ride heights is one of the fundamentals of setting up a race car. It will have a direct effect on the roll center of the car, and as such a dramatic effect on the handling. It is something that is usually something that can be changed quickly, and often by only a few millimeters (See Small Changes).
However the ride height does not act in isolation.
Changing ride heights will have an effect on the suspension kinematics; the way the wheel is controlled and moves under bounce and rebound. If this is not taken in to consideration when the ride height change is made, the results can be unexpected. Now most race cars will have adjustable everything on each wheel - camber, caster, toe, K, etc. - but if they are not changed in a systematic and controlled way, you can spoil the balance and handling of your car.
Another often overlooked effect of ride height changes is the affect it can have on the aerodynamics of the car. A car running a little too high or a little too low can be comes unstable and even dangerous. Adjustable splitters, diffusers and wings are there to accommodate changes where necessary but there is often a limit to what can be done.
Tyre Pressure Changes
Yes, even the simplest of changes to make can have knock on effects to other areas of the car. The tyres can be thought of as a spring, and they do play a crucial role in the spring rate of a wheel system as a whole. The entire system (from contact patch to chassis mount) has a spring rate that is known as the "Wheel Rate". Changing the tyre pressure will change this value.
To a degree, tyre pressure changes can be tolerated by the suspension system. Plus or minus a few tenths of a bar won't have dire consequences. But if you start playing around with larger pressure changes, you will fall in to a trap of chasing ghost springs in your system.
I have also seen cases where tyres were calibrated using nitrogen, but run using compressed air. The difference in Gas Constant meant the tyres were completely out of kilter with where they were expected to be. They came back from a run massively overheated and over inflated.
Before committing to a change on a car, think carefully about where the change will have an effect. What other systems might be altered by your change? How can the changes be negated or accommodated?
Compromise wins races. But knowledge definitely helps.
As a boy scout, I was taught to always be prepared. To expect the unexpected and to accommodate the unforeseen in any plan. Always bring backup matches camping. And complement that with a flint and steel. Water may be heavy, but bring a little more than you think you need. It will come in handy if you need to wash a wound or help a fellow scout out.
When approaching motorsport, the success stories use an identical mindset. They work off the principle that preparing in advance for all eventualities will give them an advantage over any and every team which don’t. Successful motorsport teams, and the successful motorsport engineers within them apply two golden rules to just about everything. Firstly:
Fail to prepare? Prepare to fail.
This statement is applicable to many areas of life, be it studies (revising for exams), business (hedging investments) or relationships (buy those flowers ahead of time!). In motorsport, failing to prepare removes any aspect of whether luck is on your side or not. Whilst “luck” is never a race winning strategy, after a short time on the front line of racing you will experience the affect that lady luck plays on the outcome of races. Punctures happen. Weather changes. Cars crash. However, if you have done the work beforehand and prepared for these outcomes, they don’t necessarily mean that all is lost.
A properly trained pitcrew can change all four tyres on a Formula One car in under four seconds (the current record is 1.92 seconds – well done to the Williams crew!). This is only achievable with practice. These guys in the pitlane don’t turn up on race day having never met or held a nut gun before. They practice for hours and days during the off-season time, and as often as possible during race season too. This practice, this preparation is what allows them to achieve the 3 second tyre change times. And this means that should their driver pick up a puncture, the damage is limited to seconds not minutes. The deficit is recoverable.
The second mantra by which the motorsport industry lives by is:
Two is one and one is none.
A little bit of a strange saying at first glance, but on inspection one that has true application in the motorsport industry. This motto refers to carrying spare parts to a race. Even for the most affluent race teams, logistics mean that part supply is finite. You can only bring what you can carry. The crux of this statement is that having only a single spare of any critical part on the car is tantamount to having no spares of that part. If the part fails and you replace it, you then have zero. The part could fail during free practice. It could even fail during engine warm-up. And then you are in a position that a single failure will stop the car from running.
Carrying a second spare alleviates this issue. A failure does not leave you reliant on lady luck. A failure just means you need to order another one after the race is finished. You are not racing on knife edge.
Being ready to deal with the unforeseen is a skill in and of itself. Planning for the worst is a key competency in every successful race team, and every successful motorsport engineer. By never leaving things to chance, mitigating the risk of failure and assessing worst case scenarios, you can make sure that luck remains on your side on race day.
When you watch a Formula One race, it is very easy to believe that everything on those cars is optimised. That everything is the very best it can be. The pinnacle of technology and development.
You would be wrong.
Everything on those cars is a compromise. What sets Formula One apart from lower classes of motorsport is the compromises are being decided on by using the best software, the smartest people and most money. Don't get me wrong, a Formula One car is a truly amazing piece of engineering and is the very best it can be. But to believe that everything on the car is ideal is incorrect.
I'll use Formula One in this post as it provides the most extreme examples, but the principles and lessons can be applied to any form of motorsport. In fact, any form of engineering come to think of it...
On an F1 car, aero is king. If you work in F1, or intend to in the future, remember that statement. Aero is king. It takes precedence over everything else. This means that everything designed to be on the outside of the car is compromised to improve the aerodynamics. The most obvious example of this is the suspension system. Look how flat and thin the wishbones are on the cars. They are shaped like mini aerofoils so as not to disrupt the air flow by creating turbuence. The air moving between the nose and the wheel is destined to end up either under the car in the diffuser, passing through a radiator, or moving up and interacting with that giant rear wing. As a suspension designer, you would want your wishbones to be made of tubes, with uniform stress distributions and linear behaviour under bending. The aerodynamicists would throw that design out and tell you to try again. The result is a suspension system that has been moved away from the ideal. A compromise.
There are plenty of other examples:
The Exhaust - Length and geometry and designed in a way that best advantages the airflow at the back of the car. It won’t be optimised for engine torque.
The Wheels - Designed to reduce turbulence and calm down the airflow. Probably not the lightest they can be, but more functional.
Radio Antennas - Ideally, they wouldn't be there at all. The generous Aerodynamicists let you have a few centimetres in the middle of the nose cone. Radio transmissions have been known to suffer.
Don't think that the compromise is all one way however. Every compromise made also affects the aero package on the car. Suspension needs to hold the wheels on. Exhausts need to vent somewhere. Wheels need to spin. Radios need to transmit.
And the biggest bug-bear for any aero engineer - that pesky driver insists on sticking his head out right in the middle of the car. To help, they give him a fancy streamlined helmet, but wouldn't it be so much nicer if he wasn't there in the first place?
Remember as you progress through your career that you are constantly looking for the best compromise. You want the best for the car as a whole - not necessarily what's best for your little bit. Be patient with your colleagues and take the time to understand the implications that your changes will have on other areas.
Having the best suspension, exhaust routing, wheels, radio or helmet will not win a race individually. But compromise and get the best combination of them? Now you're on to a winner!
One of the hardest decisions I had to make whilst doing Formula SAE at university was the decision not to send the car. It was not a popular decision. But it was certainly the right one.
Having spent hundreds of hours of my own time contributing to the thousands of team hours that went in to the months of work to create the Formula SAE car, I wanted to finish the competitions. I didn't want to break down. I didn't want to blow an engine. And as the principle powertrain engineer at the German event, then engine was my sole concern.
Getting to Germany was a tough journey. We had battled team dropouts, logistics failures, bottlenecks, setbacks and down right sabotage but the car and the team had made it there. We were battle weary and fatigued, but we all were thrilled to have made it to the epitome of the European Formula SAE competitions with a competitive and reliable car.
As Driver 1, I was tasked with the first competitive drive at the competition. A simple acceleration run, and I had two attempts at setting the best time. Once I had completed my runs, the car would be turned over to Driver 2 for his two runs. Four runs in total. I was the most experienced driver in the car having completed all of the testing, but was also the heaviest. A full 10kg heavier than Driver 2, meaning he stood a good chance of setting the faster time. This was not a concern to me - we were a team and its the team's fastest time that counted. Whether I set it or him, it made no difference to me.
I lined the car up on the start line and launched on the flag, setting a time of 5.1 seconds. Respectable, but not my fastest. On the way back to take the startline again, I cycled the steering wheel display, keeping an eye on engine temperatures and pressures. Everything looked good.
Attempt number two, and a 4.9 second run. A team best for this car. I was happy, but genuinely believed Driver 2 would stand a good chance of bettering that. The engine, gearbox, clutch and tyres were all warm as he was strapped in.
I should note at this point that whilst Driver 2 was a talented engineer, his expertise did not lie in the powertrain. As we lined up, I could see the engine temperature creeping up. It was maybe 10degrees (Celsius) higher than at the start of my run. I instructed him to leave the steering wheel display on the temperature page as I could walk alongside the car on his way back to the startline and check everything was A-OK before run two.
He set off.and finished with a 5.0 seconds dead. Very respectable and surely he could beat the 4.9 seconds I had set on his second run.
However, this is where things took a turn for the worse. Walking alongside the car as he headed back to the startline the engine temperature was over 120degrees (Celsius still). As he reached the end of the return road he could either turn right to his second run, or left back to the pitlane. If he turned left, he would not get a second run.
I told him to turn left.
Cue the accusations of competitiveness and ego. Accusations that I wanted to be "the fastest". To prove I was "the best". I assure you, this was not my intention. My set time was far out of my mind - all I was thinking about was the engine. The temperature was far too high after the first run. A second run risked significant, even terminal damage. If we blew the engine, it was competition over. We would not compete in the remainder of the events. We would effectively be out of the running.
This was not an easy decision for those involved. The team leader agreed with my call. As did the other powertrain engineers. And so did the the other drivers. But it was far from popular. And it was a decision I had less than 5 seconds to make.
I stand by that decision. We went on to be competitive in the rest of the events and the engine was inspected and serviced. It didn't fail.
The reason for the overheating issue?
A fuse. The fuse for the radiator fans had fallen out of it's holder. Probably on my second launch. The issue didn't present itself until the car was sitting stationary waiting to launch. It was an unfortunate issue, and one we rectified. All fuses were secured with tape from that point on.
Don't be afraid to make the tough calls. Whether as a student or a professional. They are character building and define you. Making tough decisions is what you have to do to survive in motorsport.
"In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."
- Theodore Roosevelt
How do you spend your time?
The language we use around time is identical to the language we use around money. Think about it:
We spend time. We spend money.
We save time. We save money.
We make time. We make money.
We waste time. We waste money.
What we rarely do though, is earn time. Our attitude towards time is one that is set mainly by society. We exchange our time, which is our most limited and finite resource, for money in the hope that we have the opportunity to exchange that money back at a better rate. It is what is known in the financial markets as a future’s trade. Of course, the exchange rate rarely goes in our favour.
We spend around 40 hours a week working, plus the time to commute. On top of that, mornings are usually timed to get the most time in bed, and evenings are spent recovering before we do it all again. When you take sleep out of the equation, you spend two thirds of your time at work converting your time in to money, which you hope can be converted back in to time at a better rate in the future. But the maths is plain to see. Time is finite. And two thirds are gone. That leave at best, one third assuming a perfect exchange rate – no commission in the guise of overtime, weekend work, answering email or stressing about what needs going when you go back in on Monday morning.
You can work more hours and earn more money, but you will have less time in which you can spend it. You have exchanged time for money and lost on the buy-back. This is the trap that we should try to avoid. We assume that we can save for retirement or have the nice house and car to enjoy at the weekends. But if our retirement never comes, or the weekends are spent recovering from work, what have you actually earned? Your investment is fruitless.
For many, the idea of being wealthy is simply the size of your house, the model of your car, and the balance in your bank account. But if all of that comes at the expense of being able to enjoy life, are you actually rich? If you can’t spare the time to take a break and explore the world, to experience new cultures and meet new people, you are not time-wealthy. Your bet on the time-money futures market has not paid off.
Fortunately, there are plenty of people willing to sell you their time. Most of us are. Anyone working the 9 to 5 probably is. So reinvest your money and hire a local tour guide, or a virtual assistant. Spend your money on experiences and assets that free up your time to reinvest in your life. The nice car is great, but can you take it on a 3 month once-in-a-lifetime tour across America? The big house is lovely, but can you exchange it for 6 months for an apartment in Singapore?
Once you know the value of your time, you are in a position of power. A position to invest in yourself and watch your time nest-egg grow!
P.S. If you’re wondering what this has to do with motorsport… that is how I spend my time. And it’s fantastic value for time!
Tom is an engineer working his way through the motorsport industry, sharing stories, anecdotes and lessons to help new engineers coming through the ranks.