A New Corner

Back in July, I found myself at New Hampshire Motor Speedway—not as a spectator, not even as a participant in the way most might imagine, but as a flagging and communications marshal for SCCA races. It was my first full outing in the role, and it was a blast.

It all started back on Memorial Day weekend, when Simon invited me to join him for a track experience. I got trained in the basics of flagging: the on-track signaling that keeps races safe and orderly. I quickly discovered how satisfying it was to be involved in something so kinetic, organized, and communal.

That first weekend was the real deal: sixteen sessions on Saturday, fourteen on Sunday. I learned the ropes of communications—talking to race control, reporting incidents, and coordinating flag changes—in addition to honing my flagging skills. It was a full-body experience: standing out on the corners, tracking cars, making split-second decisions, eyes always scanning.

And I loved it.

I loved the rhythm, the team dynamic, the shared focus. I loved that I got to do this with Simon (even though we weren’t stationed at the same corner); there was something grounding about being part of a shared ecosystem. It’s something we can do together, or in parallel, and that’s rare at this stage of life. Watching him in his element, while getting to be in mine, felt like a gift.

There’s also something comforting about how age-inclusive the world of flagging is. Many of the other marshals are older (some retired) and clearly see this as both a social outlet and a passion project. You get the sense that some of them have been doing it for decades. There’s camaraderie, a bit of gallows humor, plenty of shop talk, and a shared ethos: watch each other’s backs, keep the drivers safe, stay alert, stay engaged. It feels like a real community—and one I could see myself becoming part of.

I don’t know that I’d ever get in a car and race myself (though I admit something like Formula Vee does look fun). But being out on the corners, throwing flags, calling in incidents, watching the way cars behave in a turn—it scratches a different kind of itch. I’m involved in the sport; I’m part of the machine, without having to spend money I don’t have or take risks I don’t need to.

That said… it’s not without its excitement.

At Station 5 on Saturday, a Miata spun out and came barreling toward us. It was one of those moments where time dilates—a second that lasts just long enough for your gut to clench. The car slid sideways into a ditch, missing us, thankfully. The driver walked away unharmed and was even able to drive the car out afterward. But the moment left a trace: a reminder that, even on the periphery, this is real. Things move fast, and sometimes, they move in your direction.

After that weekend, I found myself thinking about how it all fits in. I’ve already said yes to a lot of things in my life, but this feels like the kind of “yes” that’s additive, not draining. So I signed up for another weekend in October at Thompson Motor Speedway in Connecticut.

And now, here I am, having worked that event, this time at Thompson Motorsports Park. It was a great weekend, and I got to work one of the days with Simon on the corner. Yesterday I was with a flagger visiting from Florida. He and his wife met while flagging, and now whenever they travel they also see if there’s an event they can flag while they’re there.

Arjen, my corner captain, was a huge help in showing me where my gaps are. In particular, I don’t yet have the full knack for radio communications. I’m still saying both too much and too little—not yet mastering the subtle control needed to manage what happens when a car goes off-line.

As it turned out, that skill was very relevant. Over the span of the weekend, there were at least five incidents where cars lost traction and came at us either at Station 6 or Station 9. Very exciting indeed.

We even had a situation where a Formula Vee lost its right front wheel coming down around Turn 6. It rolled up past us and came to rest against the Jersey barrier right in front of our station.

So might there be songs in the future that celebrate speed and racing and the smell of burning tires and race fuel? It seems likely. But I’m not there yet.