What A Rush

Peter Sospenzo points to a cinder-block shack, tiny and dilapidated, not 20 feet wide. "That's where I started in '79, working on a Winston Cup racing team, making nothing a day. That was our garage."

He pulls away from this relic of racing history and, after a short drive (speeding, weaving) down a North Carolina highway, he wheels into his new workplace: the gleaming complex of Penske-Kranefuss Racing, just north of Charlotte, with its acres of pristine machine shops, cavernous garages and whirring computers. In minutes, we've traveled from NASCAR's past to its present: staggering success fueled by millions of dollars in sponsorship. Peter's job? Take all that money pouring in and transform it into miles per hour.

Peter's the crew chief for the No. 12 Mobil 1 car, driven by Jeremy Mayfield, owned by Penske-Kranefuss. He's head coach for an entire race team--dozens of mechanics and engineers--in its endless struggle to create a faster car. Peter's mission this week: a win in Sunday's race at the North Carolina Speedway. He has four days left--to use technology to search for speed.

Wednesday
At pit-crew practice, the 12 car skids to a stop on the pavement; seven guys swarm forth with impact wrenches and gas cans; the car squeals off; Peter clicks his watch. In 16 seconds they've filled the tank, changed all four tires and adjusted the suspension.

A few years ago this took 25 seconds or more. Nowadays, that time might cost you a lap. What's changed? For one, the crew. It used to consist of scrawny mechanics. Now they're buffed specialists in calculated choreography. But it's also the equipment. Wrenches powered by compressed nitrogen. Jacks that lift up the car in a single pump, instead of five. One pit stop can make or break a race.