I’ve never been to this part of the U.S. before, but it appeared to be the start of some interesting countryside. The scale of the bridges made this race site interesting. The city has re-developed their waterfront with a pavillion at the race site including a fountain and extensive landscaping.

Working with the organizing committee, Powerboat Superleague opted to have racing on Friday and Saturday to enable Father’s Day Sunday to be for families. Friday opened with overcast skies, and only some racing took place. F3 did not race. It was a quiet day, muffled by the sound of vehicles traversing the bridge overhead, workers compacting soil preparing to pour concrete and concrete mixers stirring their mixture. Hurry up and wait at it’s best.

I had an opportunity to talk to APR announcer Ken Winkle, which was only the second time I’d had a long talk with him. He was happy and relaxed, and enjoying the day.

Saturday. For F3 this would be it. We got ample testing time in the morning. We detect a break in an electrical wire and wonder if that was hampering us in Florida. In the early afternoon we again launched by crane for our first heat. With 17 boats ready for the start, I was slotted in the top third. Going into corner one, I was about 5th. Rough water prevailed, and I drove a terrible corner with the boat snaking through the corner. Now, in about 8th position, heading to corner two, I could see the corner was rough so I slowed.

Then the boat started to hook left. It was a slow hook, but this time it was different. The boat was starting to roll over. Rainer was on the radio getting ready to tell me to watch out for all the boats, when instead all he said was “oh no”. That’s the last I heard. I recall the water starting to come into the cell. That’s when reality hit. Now it was for real. A lot goes through ones mind in a situation like this. First, I felt as if I waited for it to be completely upside down to brace for impact before releasing the 5 point harness. Then, one of the connections did not release. The Tonawanda, NY dunk test became invaluable. DON’T PANIC. I thought I could actually drown here. I can only see 12” in front of me as the muddy water passes by. I want to flip open the visor to see better and get air, but I realize I’m below water so that won’t work. I think of wanting to tell the people on shore that I’m actually ok, but I may need some help. Where are the divers? It’s been almost two seconds since I rolled. I feel like giving up and waiting for the divers. I pull the seat belt lever release again. It unlatches. I thrust both arms sideways, roll forward and see the sun getting brighter. I’m going up. I’m going to be fine. I break the surface, swim a few feet to the sponson. I’m going to climb on. No, I’m a bit tired and here’s the first diver now so there’s no point in climbing on. He grabs a hold of me. Then the second diver jumps in. I’m told this is about 10 seconds since I rolled over. We hang on the side of the boat and relax. Ok, let’s go, I’m fine. We wait. Then they let me swim to the rescue boat. I stand. The crowd cheers. I’ve been at a few auto races when drivers have died and the crowd becomes sombre. Today these spectators can continue to enjoy themselves.

On the rescue boat I decide to sit on the seat. I do, but then I stand to look at the boat. It looks ok, but we knew in the water the boat cowling was loose. Trim angle looks neutral. Why did I roll? Why am I off balance? Oh, I’m holding on to the steering wheel and the driver is starting to turn the rescue boat. We get to the dock. I wave to the cheering crowd. They don’t know me, but they’re happy no one was injured while they were watching the sport they enjoy. I’m cleared through local ambulance.

Trying to be inconspicuous, I take a new route to the crane area. I end up walking beside a tug-of-war game and right in front of the people watching. I’m soaked and dripping. Do I still fit in? I should have joined in. The adrenaline was certainly flowing, we would have won.

Arriving at the boat, I see a great volunteer group bailing water from it. My crew is working too. We get the boat back to our pit area. We miss the second heat. Everyone in the crew helps out. Dad’s bailing the strong box, my sister Lianne is bailing the cell, nephew Travis is drying the sponsons. Rainer is in control. He’s frantic, but thinking quickly as usual. We remove the lower unit and propeller. Undo wires and bolts. We remove the cylinder head. We dry the cylinders as much as possible. Others offer help. Rainer says we’re not going to make it. I tell him to just keep working. A quick run to the local Wal-mart by my sisters brings new gas cans. Mom looks anxious. We get fresh gas into the tanks. Ken Winkle and Sam Winer drive by on a golf cart and enquire if I’m still trying to make the Final. I said “For sure. We are trying.” Donny Cruse loans spark plugs. Paul Pittman helps out. He gets the starter working. The boat finally fires. We tell the launch crew and race officials we’re coming. The other boats are launched. They’re doing the parade. Boat launched. Others have finished their hot lap. I’m strapped in. Others are lining up at the dock. The engine ignites. I get a “hot straightaway” only. The engine sputters on water but keeps running. My crew is running half a mile to the other end of the course to the starting dock. It’s hot.

We’re starting dead last. 17th. A few boats that out qualified us are not going to race. I don’t know why, I’ll find out later. I’m starting 14th. The race begins. Sam LaBanco uncharacteristically rolls over in corner one for the first time in four years. I see a huge spray from behind. The race stops. He takes a while to come out. He’s waiting for his capsule to fill with water to equalize the pressure.

The restart. I get an ok start. Then I’m going backwards for the first 4 laps. Everyone, it seems, is passing me. The engine clears the water from inside. I’m picking up speed. I’m passing boats. I finish 8th. I get the award for the most improved position in the Final in Formula Three, and I tie with 2 others for the most boats passed in the weekend.

My crew is exhausted. It was Lianne’s first weekend as a crew member. I hope she will do it again. Rainer is amazing. He received congratulations from other crews. It was less than 90 minutes from the time I rolled to the time I re-started. We do not give up easily. I never thought of not making the Final. Kevin May will make the next race and that will be a big help.

We returned to Toronto, and on Monday learned that Ken Winkle had passed away in his sleep. It was going to be fun getting to know him better. All of us at Lone Star Racing will miss Ken a lot.