PADDOCK TICKER (The Londrina Daily Despair): ENGINE MELTDOWN AT LONDRINA AS HORTA EVAPORATES ON LAP TWO WHILE PENSKE CELEBRATES LONE TRIUMPH!
The Autódromo Internacional Ayrton Senna bore witness to a brief, tragic flash of speed on Sunday afternoon. Romain Dumas conquered the 19-lap encounter in 21:47.301 aboard the #07 Penske Racing Porsche RS Spyder Evo, taking overall and LMP2 victory just 1.433 seconds ahead of teammate Patrick Long. LMP1 class honors went to Brian Moretti in P3 overall. However, absolute sorrow engulfed the #01 Audi Sport N.America garage when Fernando Horta—who had heroically surged to 3rd place on lap two—suffered a catastrophic engine failure, bringing his race to a soul-crushing DNF after completing a mere two laps.
Alan Donatellofson (Crew Chief, over radio): "Oh, splendid work, Fernando. Truly inspiring stuff. The engine didn't even survive to lap three before turning itself into a thousand pieces of hot, useless metal. Shall I order your crying handkerchiefs now, or do you want to sob directly into the telemetry laptop?"
(Sung to the tune of "The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel)
Hello engine, my old friend,
You've blown yourself to bits again.
Because a cloud of dark smoke creeping,
Left me in the cockpit weeping,
And the piston that was shattered in my block,
Gave a shock,
Within the sound... of Londrina.
Through restless turns I tried to steer,
With Alan mocking in my ear.
'Neath the heat of a Paraná sun,
I saw my final lap get done.
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a sudden flame,
That ruined my game,
And touched the sound of failure.
And in the pit lane light I saw,
Nineteen cars and maybe more.
Dumas racing without a care,
Patrick Long with his golden hair,
Drivers scoring points that I'll never receive again,
In utter pain,
Beside the sound of failure.
"Alan," said I, "you do not know,
How deep this agony can go!"
Hear my cries that I might reach you,
Take my steering wheel I teach you,
But my tears like silent drops of rain fell,
And echoed in the dirt of Londrina.
And the paddock bowed and prayed,
To the broken Audi that I made.
And the timing screen flashed its warning,
In the tragic results of the morning.
And the board said, "The names of the losers are written on the garage wall,
For one and all,"
And whispered in the sound of DNF.
