Our First HSR Daytona Classic 24 Hour race.

Obstacles and Rewards:

By Ben Hedrick

The Pre-Race Chaos: Bites, Breaks, and Blockages

October 12: The Warm-Up Disaster

It started with just one of many "obstacles" in the month leading up to the HSR Classic 24. My wife, Laura (aka, Monkey), asked me to bring Monty—our blind, beautifully "challenging" Lab—inside from the Lab Cab van in the driveway. Normally, this is a straightforward routine: I tell Monty to come get a cookie, unhook his leash, and guide him inside.

For whatever reason, Monty decided a cookie wasn't worth leaving the van that afternoon. When he finally agreed to step out, he immediately changed his mind. As I reached for his collar, he lashed out, badly biting both of my hands. My left thumb suffered a long, deep laceration alongside a nasty puncture, while my right hand took three deep teeth marks.

After securing Monty with Laura’s help, I ran toward the house looking for bandages, dripping blood all over the driveway (oddly enough, it remains blood-stained to this day). Frustrated and bleeding, I blindly kicked a wet/dry vacuum cleaner located in my shop. My right big toe took the brunt of the impact, and a bad cut the top of my foot. A week later, X-rays confirmed a significant fracture in my big toe.

Suddenly, I was facing a massive dilemma: How on earth was I going to test at Roebling Road Raceway (RRR)—let alone race a 24-hour event at Daytona in a few weeks—with a broken throttle-pedal toe and severely mangled hands?

October 22–24: Trusting the Machine

Initially, we decided not to take the #22 Patron Tequila GT3 Cup car to Roebling, but we changed our minds. We desperately needed to confirm whether our engine overheating issue was real or just false telemetry from the MoTeC system.

Testing at RRR began on October 23 and wrapped up by noon the following day. The car ran beautifully and didn't overheat, which suggested the data readings were false. This was a double-edged sword: it was great news that the engine wasn't melting, but frustrating because we couldn't trust our own data.

To my surprise, driving with bandaged hands and a broken toe wasn't nearly as debilitating as I feared. While walking around the paddock I was miserable, the pain strangely faded the moment I strapped into the race car. I just chose to power through it. Pain makes you feel alive, right?

October 25–November 3: A Different Kind of Heart Rate

Back at the shop, we spent five solid days analyzing data and trying to fix the telemetry glitch, with little success. Do we "chance it" at Daytona, or do we trust our gut that the car is mechanically sound?

Concurrently, a much more serious issue was unfolding. For the past month, I had been undergoing evaluations for a potentially life-threatening heart condition. After several stress tests, my cardiologist recommended a heart catheterization procedure to check for severe blockages, advising it be done sooner rather than later. Back on October 9, I told my doctors that if they were going to wheel me into a procedure room, it had to happen well before our November 4 as that was our track load-in date.

By November 3, with the car running well enough and the hospital still failing to schedule my procedure, I made my decision: Let's do this. I packed my bags and headed to the Daytona Speedway.

Race Week at Daytona

November 4: The Ultimatum

We arrived at Daytona International Speedway around 10:30 AM on load-in day, unpacking our gear into Blue Garage #8. After dropping off the hauler, my friend Roy gave me a lift back to the shop so I could drive the RV to the track.

Right as I pulled back into the track in the RV around 1:30 PM, my cardiologist finally called. I stopped the rig to write down the details, only for her to ask, "Are you available tomorrow?"

Tomorrow?! I had spent weeks begging them to do this before the race, and now they wanted to slice into me during race week? No way. Too late. I’m racing. I told her the date wouldn't work, so we booked it for the following Friday, November 14, post race.

Shortly after that call, my primary care doctor, Dr. Dhand—who monitors my health like I'm an Olympic athlete about to step onto the world stage—called to check in. I told him I was all set for the 14th.

"Is that the earliest they could get you in?" he asked.

"Well, sort of," I admitted. "They had an opening tomorrow, but I'd have to cancel my race week."

Dr. Dhand didn't hesitate: "Ben, your health is way more important than any race! You call them back right now and take that appointment tomorrow!"

Chastised, I called the cardiology office back, only to be told the slot had already been filled. When I relayed the news back to Dr. Dhand, he reluctantly accepted the November 14 date, sternly warning me to be careful and report even the slightest discomfort. I promised I would.

Full disclosure here; Me now, carrying around a bottle of nitroglycerine pills while preparing to drive a GT3 Cup car at 170+ MPH in a 24-hour endurance race, this didn't exactly give me the warm and fuzzies.

November 5–7: Learning to Love the Dark

Our Daytona first test session on Wednesday afternoon went well, though I managed to spin out in the West International Horseshoe while finding the car’s limits. Fortunately, there was no damage. During the 3:40 PM session, I repeated the performance, looping the car in the East Horseshoe. Again, zero damage. Doh!

Thursday brought night practice, which presented a series of major firsts for me: my first time racing a GT3 Cup car at night, my first time racing in the dark in any car, and eventually, my first time racing in wet conditions on slick tires too.

Going out into the darkness was a trip. The track was lit, but it was a far cry from daylight. The LeMans chicane (the Bus Stop) on the back stretch was a literal black hole. Sometime in 2024, they paved over the grass infield of the chicane; while safer for the racers, it completely erased the visual contrast between the grass and the asphalt.

Approaching the chicane on my first lap at roughly 165 MPH, I couldn't see a thing. This hard braking zone and the initial left then right-hand turns simply vanished. I ended up jumping the first curb, launching into the middle of the chicane, braking frantically, and tossing the car through the remaining corners. Spoiler alert: I survived, but it wasn't pretty.

On the next few laps, I hunted for alternative visual markers. Once I found my reference points, everything clicked. I was on a fast roll and felt incredible. Unlike most racers who dread the night, I ended up, loving it. The lack of peripheral distractions forced me to focus entirely on the illuminated path ahead. It paid off: I clocked my fastest Daytona laps ever during the night. Fortunately for me, four of our five major weekend sessions (Qualifying and Races 1, 2, and 3) were scheduled at twilight or total darkness. Our only daylight appearance would be Sunday morning for our final race.

November 7: A Tough Field

Following our stellar night practice, we bolted on a brand-new set of Michelin slicks for Friday night qualifying, expecting to shatter our previous times.

We forgot one variable: everyone else brought their "A-Game" too. We ended up qualifying P13 out of 23 cars—smack in the middle of a fiercely competitive pack, with the top cars running one to nine seconds faster than us per lap. We didn’t end up having quite the confidence we thought we would have had.

The Main Event

November 8: Reclaiming "Christine"

On Saturday morning, RACE DAY, I received a text from Jeff Bye, the previous owner of our Patron Tequila car: "Ben, I’m leaving West Palm. See you at the track soon."

Over the previous months, Jeff had been instrumental in helping us restore the car back to its original Velox/Patron Tequila Motorsports livery. When he walked into Garage Blue #8, he was visibly emotional. He said it looked absolutely perfect, exactly as it had when his team raced it 15 years ago.

Then, he casually dropped a bombshell: "You know her name is Christine, right?"

I was stunned. "What? You never told us that!"

Jeff explained that they used to draw names out of a hat for their race cars, and hers ended up being Christine. They had even written it on the front firewall. I immediately grabbed our label maker, printed CHRISTINE in the largest capital letters possible, and slapped it onto the firewall. When Jeff saw it later, he smiled—I had accidentally placed it in the exact same spot they wrote her name too. I also stuck a label with her name on my dashboard so I could talk to her during the race.

Race 1 (5:00 PM Saturday)

Starting from P13 against a spectacular Daytona sunset, Christine proved she loved having her name back. We sliced through the field, climbing all the way to a P4 finish and setting another personal best lap time. We were ROLLING!!

Race 2 (10:00 PM Saturday)

Nighttime, fully dark. We took the green flag from P4, and things quickly turned chaotic. Heading into Turn 3, I was slammed by the #23 Porsche driven by a wild competitor named Juan. He hit me at least once more before another car also clipped me. Miraculously, I kept the car straight and stayed on the track. Juan eventually wrecked himself out of the race entirely, burying his car deep into the tire wall at the East Horseshoe.

Later in the session, a prototype car with non-functioning headlights slammed into me too, causing body damage but leaving Christine's performance intact. We were both summoned to the Race Stewards' office afterward. Because he had ignored multiple black flags for his missing headlights, the collision was ruled entirely his fault and he was penalized. We held onto P4.

Race 3 (4:00 AM Sunday)

Waking up at 3:00 AM after hitting the pillow at midnight was brutal. We rolled off P4, but our nighttime rhythm returned. Despite almost getting run off the track into the dirt by a passing Turner BMW in the Kink, I gathered the car up and bettered our P4 position and drove us to a P3 finish.

When I crawled back into the RV at 4:15 AM, the usual constant roar of engines suddenly ceased. I was far too exhausted to find out why and collapsed into a deep sleep with an oddly quiet track.

The Final Dash to our HSR Classic 24 Hour Race

Final, Race 4 (11:00 AM Sunday)

I woke up at 8:00 AM to a much quieter track. It was now raining. The nighttime silence had been caused by heavy fog and downpours, putting the event schedule behind and pushing our 10:00 AM race back to around 11:00 AM.

We had a massive problem: our brand-new rain tires were sitting at our shop, 25 minutes away.

We frantically checked the Doppler radar. The rain looked like it was tapering off. Consulting with Colt and the Ellenwood Motors crew, we bet on the track drying quickly enough to bypass the need for wets. We stuck with our Michelin slicks and crossed our fingers.

Going into this final stint, we were sitting in P3 overall for Group C/D. The leading Oreca Viper (#92) and Turner BMW (#96) were only one lap ahead of us, while Steve Cheetham in the (#43) Porsche was two laps behind us in P4. In the wet, on slick tires, anything could happen. To add to the stress, this was my first time ever racing a car in wet track conditions. The track was slick, with massive standing puddles through the LeMans chicane.

As we lined up on the starting grid, the P2 Turner BMW failed to show up. Suddenly, we rolled off in P2, instead of P3 right behind the leading Viper.

Diving into Turn 1 off the Daytona tri-oval, water sprayed everywhere. I cautionly guided the car onto the infield road course, hunting for any patch of available grip I could find. A few laps in, the (#92) Viper checked out, and (#43) Steve Cheetham used his extensive wet-weather experience to slip past me. Because we had a two-lap cushion on him in the overall standings, I didn't fight him too hard. My sole focus was endurance mode: keep the car in one piece, stay on the asphalt, and finish the race.

We pitted under green for our mandatory three-minute pit stop. When I re-entered the track with 11 minutes remaining, a dry line had finally emerged. I dropped the hammer. Over the final six laps, I pushed Christine to her absolute limits that they track and my skills allowed, hunting down the (#43) Porsche and reclaiming our position on the track.

As the checked flag dropped, I exited off NASCAR Turn 4 and onto pit lane, the track marshals pointed me toward the right. Right?

We were being directed to Victory Lane.

Driving my own #22 Patron Tequila GT3 Cup car into Victory Lane at Daytona International Speedway was a surreal, awake-dream moment. We finished P2 overall in Group C/D and P2 in Class D, that damn (#92) Oreca Viper took an easy P1..! But P2 overall and P2 in Class wasn’t too bad for our 1st HSR Classic 24 Hour Race!

The Reality Check: A Health Update - A little hard for me to write this…

One week after standing in Victory Lane, on Friday, November 14, 2025, I checked into the hospital for my scheduled heart catheterization.

The artery my doctors originally suspected was 70% blocked turned out to be in okay condition. However, they discovered severe, critical issues in two of my other main arteries and 90% blockage of the LDL. I learned that day, that’s not good.

As I write this, I am currently being scheduled for medical intervention. Plan A is a double stent procedure; Plan B is open-heart surgery.

Life comes at you fast. What an unbelievable, terrifying, and rewarding roller coaster ride.

Cheers, Ben