Note: this is a No Spoiler article, showing images and details up to but not including today’s races at the German GP.

I watched the final efforts of QP1 on a pit lane monitor, and near the end of the session it looked like Scott Redding (top image) had a chance to be one of the two fastest riders and thus move into QP2. I scurried to the Marc VDS garage, thinking I’d photograph the team’s elation when this happened. I found Miss Penny May (above) watching her man make his valiant effort.
 

If Redding had been .067 faster he would’ve gone onto the QP2. When he crossed the finish line in fourth place instead of second or first, the scene was something other than one of elation. On Penny’s left, mechanic Mark Lloyd hangs his head in resignation as the others express the same in their own ways.

On TV we see the riders most of the time, with occasional cuts to the garages when a rider crashes or takes pole. But in each garage where a rider doesn’t do as well as his team hopes, a group of hard-working folks feels the disappointment. Even though we don’t see it, it’s happening all down pit lane.

Dani Pedrosa prepares to go out for his second qualifying run. Notice that his left side knee slider has worn through the pad, even more than in this shot of Casey Stoner at Indy, 2010. Whether Dani didn’t notice that it needed replacing, or figured that there was enough material left for an out lap and a fast qualifying run, I don’t know.

Notice also the wedge-shaped machine that the mechanic squatting at the rear tire is operating. To start Dani’s bike, the machines will roll it backwards onto the wedge where two rollers will spin in opposite directions in order to turn the bike’s rear wheel (clutch engaged, bike in gear), then a mechanic will let the clutch out so that the turning rear wheel also turns the engine over.

While some makes, like Ducati, start their bikes by turning the engines directly (in Ducati’s case the mechanic inserts an electric-powered wrench, like a socket, through the fairing and onto a bolt connected to the crankshaft), most bikes in pit lane are started with a machine like this one. Most of these are painted with the team colors, and I’ve never noticed which company manufactures these machines.

Yesterday in pit lane, a man from a company whose name I won’t mention was bringing his version of this machine to several of the teams to try out. When it was Movistar Yamaha’s turn, they used the machine to start one of Valentino Rossi’s bikes. For some reason that bike didn’t start right away. I don’t know if the machine was involved in why the bike wouldn’t start. But it took much longer than usual before the YZR-M1 fired to life.

When the bike finally started, the tire looked like this:

The parts of that style of machine that contact the tire are abrasive, like coarse sandpaper, so they will grip the tire and turn it forcefully rather than slip. I’m now wondering if this was a tire that was part of Rossi’s weekend allocation, or a spare that could be used to start the bikes for warm up rather than used on track. I think probably the latter, as the check system IRTA uses to manage tire use should allow this.

When the bike was rolled forward onto a wheel stand, these piles of Bridgestone rubber were left behind. I’ve heard this machine used hundreds of time (albeit through ear plugs) and when the mechanic pushes the button to start the machine (it’s powered by an internal battery), the two rollers that contact the tire move smoothly, at least judging from the sound. This trial machine had a pulsing sound rather than a smooth one, which I think helps explain the condition of the tire and those clumps of rubber.

I suspect the guy got unlucky with this bike not starting right away, as had the other couple of trial instances I observed. The Yamaha mechanics didn’t seem impressed, however, shaking their heads as they passed the machine back to its master.

At Knockhill last weekend I realized I’ve been taking something for granted. When working as an official photographer at a race, I enjoy a certain liberty when it comes to photographing people. Folks in the paddock or the stands don’t think it’s strange, and often are downright pleased, when I point a camera at them to take their picture.

But at Knockhill I was just another spectator. At one point I saw a little girl on her dad’s shoulders, and she was wearing a yellow Valentino Rossi t-shirt and matching hat. My impose was to photograph her as a way of showing that Rossi has fans everywhere, including BSB events. But as I was about to bring the camera to my eye, I thought, Hmmm, I’m not a guy in a vest with a credential. I’m just a guy with a camera who intends to take that little girl’s picture. How is the dad going to take it? I don’t think I’m going to find out.

But here in the MotoGP paddock, it’s a great pleasure to receive smiles like this in the same situation.

Photographs: ©2015 by Scott Jones / PHOTO.GP – All Rights Reserved

Camera Info: Nikon D4 with Nikon 70-200mm f/2.8 and Nikon 500mm f/4.0

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