27/07/23: Club Cars – The Predictor

The Predictor. 

Life’s cruel sometimes. This week it was the Tomster’s turn to be its victim, courtesy of Molesey’s patented Results Predictor which spent most of the race telling him that he was likely to finish third, which would have been his best ever result at Molesey. There was just one little snag though: the Predictor was talking nonsense.

The Predictor? Yes, Molesey’s trusty timing system has for the past few months churned out a predicted overall race result at the end of each heat, creating much excitement for those who get excited by such things. Even the old boys who’ve been racing for years and pretend that they’re not really bothered where they finish can’t help but take notice of the Predictor. And trust me, they are bothered, although probably not quite as much as young Tom.

So what happened? Well, pretty much the same as usually happens when Molesey’s drivers are let loose with the club’s RevoSlot Supras; lots of crashing, lots of discussion about which car is the fastest or has the best tyres or is the most broken, lots of laughing and lots of close racing.

After everyone had completed their first heat, Lee led the field, Graham was an impressive second, Julian third and the Tomster fourth. Tom was, to put it mildly, well chuffed.

Normally everyone’s second heat would have followed immediately, but the timing system had a driver missing from the running order and so needed a hurried adjustment, at which point things went, at least from the Tomster’s and the Predictor’s points of view, tits up. The Tomster was predicted to finish third.

When the second round did eventually get underway, Peter dodged numerous crashes with a great drive that saw him climb to third overall, Graham dropped to seventh and the Tomster dropped to fifth. The Predictor, however, was still saying that the Tomster would finish third. Tom was even more chuffed.

Going into the mid-race tea break, the top five overall were Lee first, Julian second, then Peter, David and Terry, but the Predictor was having none of it and was still predicting the Tomster would make the podium. A few drivers commented on how unusually close the final gaps throughout the field were predicted to be, but if anyone was suspicious that something was amiss, they kept it to themselves. It’s a computer, right? It can’t be wrong.

Heats 4 and 5 were crash-strewn affairs. David, who’d been gorging on Smarties from the freshly replenished snack draw, appeared to be in an E-number induced state of mild confusion and lost a couple of places as he watched the wrong car for a lap while repeatedly crashing his own. Guest Joss did the same, ruining what had until then been an excellent drive which had seen him racing neck and neck with Vince.

By the time everyone had completed 5 heats Lee was almost a lap ahead of Julian, but the Predictor had Julian in the lead, Lee second, the Tomster still third and David down in seventh. Several drivers were now looking puzzled, but it was Lee who took the plunge and queried the results with Neil, the Predictor’s keyboard operator. Bingo! The Predictor’s dodgy data was discovered and the Tomster’s night turned into a disaster. Instead of a predicted third, poor Tom was now tipped to finish sixth. What a disappointment. And what a gift to Tom’s competitors who jumped at the chance to throw some good-natured teasing in his direction. Heartless sods.

To Tom’s credit he didn’t give up, instead fighting back in the final heat with his best drive of the night, but it wasn’t quite enough, his final position fifth, a tiny 1.52 seconds behind David in third and an even tinier 1.35 behind fourth-placed Peter. Tough luck Tom. Your first podium visit will have to wait. Life sure is cruel.

PS. Here’s a little secret. Because of a fundamental flaw in its design, the Predictor ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Its flaw? It relies on the guy operating its keyboard to input the correct heat results after each and every heat. Not just 1st, 2nd, 3rd and so on, but longhand in minutes, seconds, tenths, hundredths and thousandths for every driver in every heat. That’s a lot of typing, so rather than crucifying the operator for being a numpty, let’s cut him some slack. Unless, of course, you’re the Tomster…