I goofed.  Not in the car, but by reporting that Chip Ganassi's 02 engine was down on power.  It was down on its luck and parked down in the garage, not out there running laps 3 seconds slower than the DP leaders.  They went home less than 40% through the race.  No one gloats in these endurance races, knowing at any time a knock on the windshield from Fate could sever our chances too.

Brian Frisselle took the Lap 280 restart in P6 after a very satisfied Valiante came in for a driver change.  The tides flow in, the tides flow out.  Temperatures have plummeted now that the rain has passed on through - 59 degrees right now and probably won't be that high during Sunday's daylight hours.

As the hours click by and the interminable scream of the engines rises and falls as they squeal past the starter stand and our pit boxes, you begin to know what those people feel like who live in homes half a mile from the JFK or Heathrow runways...after a while, you just don't pay too much attention to the din that drives the dinner guests nuts.  It's almost like having a piano tuner in the house, but he never leaves.

Change of plans!  I got bumped for AJ.  We're going to need to change brake pads, which consumes almost double the normal pit stop time, so to protect my frail sense of racemanship, they don't want the leaders breathing down my neck and putting us a lap down.  All teams need to switch pads at some point, of course, so things will even out in the end, but engineer Dale has our frail souls as well as AJ's blinding speed near and dear to his heart.  Closing in on 2:30 AM, Brian's running P3, now one of only 3 remaining DPs is on the lead lap, believe it or not.  Both the 75 Krohn Ford and the 59 Brumos Porsche had to make unscheduled garage stops, each contending for the win one minute and the next, behind by 12 laps.  Just unbelievably harsh. 11 hours have passed, as have 330 laps.  Just 11 hours;  the real race starts in about 8 or 9 hours.  Imagine the mechanical endurance, the hammering and the strain on these parts, the temperatures and tension - quite incredible that any machine operates flawlessly for as long, at maximum stretch.

I took an hour and a half doze back in the MSR trailer with Valiante on the couch with a balaclava pulled down over his face while his wife Nicola lay asleep on the floor.  I used a desk chair with my forehead on the desk.  Returning to the pit box, an array of starved and weary prisoners gazed around hollow eyed into the pitch black night, who just hours before looked like crackerjack mechanics and tire men.  Now they were exhausted men with almost 10 and a half hours yet to go.  The brake change had cost us a lap, one down to the leaders (Mike Rockenfeller in the 9 Porsche Riley and Justoin Wilson in Ganassi's Telmex 01) who had chalked up over 410 laps.  Yet they have to swap pads, so there is hope the lap can be regained before the sun comes up.  He closest DPs behind us were 3 laps down to our position.

Current plan is to keep poor AJ in for another stint...there hasn't been a yellow in well over a hundred laps, so on and off I've been here or back at the trailer since about 2 AM waiting to get into the car and it's closing on 5 AM.  So close and yet so far. Scrolling down the leader board to the bottom, 7 competitors got to finish 125 laps or less with the leaders over 425 already. And the night wears on as 10 remaining race hours loom before us.  And still no yellow flags.