| T.R | Title | User | Personal
Name | Date | Lines |
|---|
| 200.1 | By now it was Last weeks race | SUBWAY::JANKOWITZ | Illiterate? Write for free pamphlet. | Wed Aug 01 1990 12:39 | 92 |
| Finally after waiting over a month it's time for my second race in
the Formula Ford. How time drags. Another race at Lime Rock only
this time it's a two day race. Practice and qualifying on Friday,
race on Saturday (you get Sunday to mow the lawn at home...).
The thermometer on someone's trailer never went toooo far above 100
degrees. The morning practice didn't start off too well for me. I
had already warmed up the car so it fired right up. I went to put
the car in gear and all that came out were grinding noises from
first gear. Second gear, same thing, third, fourth and reverse
were no different. The clutch felt OK so what was wrong? The
clutch wouldn't disengage. We pulled off the body work and did a
quick clutch bleeding. Started the car and no change. By now it
seems fairly certain that the clutch has frozen to the flywheel
over the last month. I put the car in gear and got some people to
give me a push figuring that if the engine starts I'll be able to
use the brakes to break the clutch free. Just pushing the car a
few feet while I played with the clutch was enough to break it
free. We put all of the fiberglass back on and made a dash for the
track. One warm up lap, one timed lap and the session was over. Not
much of a warm up for me but the car felt OK. I spent the next few
hours looking over the car and waiting for qualifying.
I wanted to be one of the first cars out in case the traffic would
be bad. The session before mine went out so I got in the car and
got up to staging. There was already a long line of cars ahead of
me. I guess my "early" wasn't early enough. We went out -
thirty seven cars on a 1.5 mile track! I'm getting better at
passing! Even so, for more than ten minutes I didn't get one single
lap where I could run my lines and my braking points. Then
someone left a stream of oil around the back side of the track. So
much for trying to go fast. That was the end of a frustrating
qualifying session. Somehow I was able to get my time down just
into the 57's. I expected to be in the low 57's which would have
meant a couple more places forward. I had to settle for seventh
for Saturday's race.
Saturday was cooler, the temperature was below 100. It was cloudy
so I went to put air in my rain tires. All 4 of them were flat!
That's a long story about the previous owner that I had just heard
the night before. I prayed that it wouldn't rain. It rained over
night and there is a little rust on the calipers so I figure I
will go brave the morning warm-up to clean them off. Better to
clean the brakes now than when the green flag comes out. Warm up
is all of the open wheeled cars at the race on the track at the
same time! I do 2 laps and come in. The car feels OK and I now
have several hours till the race. I take off the fiberglass, clean
and inspect things, fill up the gas tank (I have to run a full
tank of gas to be legal weight after the race).
One of the cars in front of me didn't show up so I get lined up in
6th on the outside of the third row. We go around and the guy
starting on the row behind me sits on my side going around when I
want to warm the tires up! This is really annoying me. I would
like to use the whole track to warm up the tires but he never let
me. We come out of the last turn, the pace car goes in and
everyone has their foot on the floor. The green flag comes out and
we aim for the first turn. I watch as a couple of cars go by on
the inside, I just stay on the outside and go as fast as I can. I
am afraid that a bunch of cars got by me. I work hard to get by
the cars just ahead of me. At the end of the first lap I don't
have a clue what place I'm in (the lap charts say I was actually
back in 6th). I wasn't going too fast and noticed that as I lapped
a slower car there was another car in my mirrors that wasn't there
before. Now I make an effort to pick up my pace. After another lap
or two he's gone. I try to bring my speed up a little bit each
lap. The traffic got pretty heavy and I still didn't know what
place I was in. My wife held up a 6. I was happy that it wasn't
any lower than that but I was catching what I now new was the 5th
place car. I got to him just as he slowed way down. I went by and
aimed for 4th. As I got closer I watched 3rd and 4th swap
positions back and forth a few times. I caught them on the back
straight and moved to the right. He moved to the right. I moved to
the left and got my nose next to his rear wheel, he moved to the
left. I had to hit the brakes and dropped back a few car lengths.
I spent the rest of that lap trying to get back up there. Just as
he was passing a backmarker the backmarker spun (in front of me).
I lifted to avoid him and lost what I had just gotten back. When
we came down the hill onto the front straight the checker came
out. I had to settle for 5th. I learned a lot from this race and
hopefully will be able to use some of it next time for a better
finish.
I was happy when the official results came out that my fastest lap
was in the 56's. That was one of my goals for the weekend and for
a while it didn't look like I was going to get there. I don't know
if I can get below 56 seconds in this car but there is still plenty
of time out there and 56.78 is a long way away from 55.99
Two weeks till the next race. Plenty of work to do by then.
It was also nice meeting some other DEC people at the race.
|
| 200.2 | Friday was a long expensive weekend of racing | SUBWAY::JANKOWITZ | It used to have four wheels | Fri Aug 17 1990 16:39 | 124 |
| Well, another Friday, Saturday race at Lime Rock. I had spent the
time since the last race doing little maintenance things like
putting in another new battery replacing the foam in the headrest
and playing with the corner weights and ride heights and of
course cleaning things.
I was hoping that my tires would still be good as people were
telling me that the tires go off and just don't handle as well
after only a few weekends. I got to the track Thursday night and
just about threw the tent out of the van and went to sleep. It
was nice to wake up and not have to drive anyplace. I just folded
up the tent and pulled the car off the trailer.
I managed to find a couple of friends from the Porsche Club who
said they could help me get into the car, start it and take my
times. I could breathe a little easier. I went out for the
morning practice and everything felt really bad. Either the track
was very slippery or I had messed up the corner weights really
badly. The car was just sliding around and wouldn't stick. My
times at the end of the session were miserable. I talked to the
person who was helping me and he said the track felt fine when he
went out (SSC Toyota MR2). Now I was getting worried. I talked to
a couple of other people and got varying opinions. Some said the
track felt fine and some said it felt slippery to them also. I
figured I would go through qualifying and if the car still felt
really bad I would change the adjustments back to the way they
were before I started playing with the corner weights.
I spent the day just looking over things and cleaning again.
Everything looked fine. I got lined up for qualifying as soon as
the previous session went onto the track. I was pretty close to
the front so I expected to get some clean laps. We went out and
at the end of my first lap I was a couple of car lengths behind
another car. I figured I would follow him around for now. We went
down the front straight and he hit the brakes! I wasn't even
thinking about hitting the brakes yet. I usually go at least
another few brake markers. I just went to the left into the
marbles and went down the escape road with my heart beating
pretty hard. I pulled back out onto the track and kept going. The
car felt fine now. I started bringing my times down pretty
quickly. After four more laps I was down within a second of where
I wanted to qualify and there were still a lot of places where I
wasn't pushing the car yet. And then...
I saw a another car a few hundred feet ahead and realized he was
going pretty slowly. I did a real quick lift going onto the back
straight so I could decide which side to pass him. He was right
in front of me in the middle of the track and there was another
car behind me which had been catching up to me for the last few
laps who I really wanted to stay in front of. I had beaten him in
the last two races. I came onto the back straight (which has a
slight turn to the right and then back to the left) and the
slower car was sitting right in front of me. He wasn't telling
me which side to pass so he probably didn't see me. I had to
either hit the brakes fairly hard, pass to the right which was to
the inside of the first little kink or pass to the left which was
the outside. Since this was qualifying I didn't really want to
hit the brakes, the last turn was a right-hander which put me on
the left already so I figured that was a reasonable way to go. I
got on the outside of him with my front wheels even with his head
and he moved over to the left. That's were I was! I couldn't
figure out why he was moving over to the left when he should have
been heading to the right for the slight kink. I slowed down and
moved to the left with him thinking he would stop coming left
sooner or later. He just kept on coming. By now I had all four
wheels in the dirt. I couldn't see it but he had noticed the car
behind me and was pointing that car by on his right and was
moving left to let him past. I backed off the throttle and
straightened out the car. When he had pulled ahead I moved back
onto the track. When I got the car back on the track the back end
just broke free. It went to the right and I corrected to the
right. Then it kicked to the left and I put in full opposite
lock. The back end just kept going out though. There was
guardrail on the left and a dirt embankment on the right where I
had seen cars roll after going into it. I thought "this is a
nasty place to spin"! I didn't spin though. The car was pointed
about 60 degrees off to the right I saw a flash of blue out of
the corner of my eye, then I felt a thud and realized that the
car behind me had just removed the suspension from the right side
of my car! Several expletives came to mind. Meanwhile I was still
sliding towards the dirt embankment thinking now I'm going to
roll and destroy the rest of the car. Just as the car slid off
the track on the right a cloud of dirt sprayed up and all the
whole world turned brown as my visor was instantly covered with
dirt. I thought that was an appropriate color. The car came to
rest when the nose stuffed itself into the embankment. Lucky for
me there was no wheel on the right front corner or it might have
climbed up and rolled over. Since there didn't seem to be any
safe place to walk to I sat in the car for a second trying to
decide whether it was safer to sit in the car or get out and try
to climb the embankment. I got out and was slightly relieved to
see that the rear suspension was still on the car. I tried to
climb the embankment but it was too steep. By then the qualifying
session had been red flagged. There were three smashed cars but
we were all ok. I went over and talked to the driver of the blue
car for a minute waiting for the tow trucks to arrive. His car
was the worst of the three. All four corners were bent, twisted
and broken. I thought it would be a good idea to find the remains
of my wheel in case any parts were salvageable. I saw a wheel on
the right side of the track up about 100 feet from where my car
came to rest but it was a rear wheel and I was missing a front.
Then someone noticed that one of the cars had too many front
wheels. My wheel was actually under one of the other cars. Of all
of the bent and broken parts the only spare I had was a wheel. A
quick estimate put the damage well over $1000. That puts me out
for several races, hopefully not for the season.
After the qualifying session resumed and then finished it turned
out my last complete lap was still good enough for 7th on the grid.
That was going to be an empty spot!
I just got some pictures from a photographer. There were two good
pictures of the car and a third with it hanging from the back of
the tow truck. Yuk.
I am slowly buying new parts as I figure out what I can afford.
Hopefully I'll be able to afford to fix it by next month. There's
a race at Watkins Glen that would be nice to go to.
Sunday morning after the "race" the phone rang. It was somebody
offering a Visa card with a $5000 credit limit. I said, "how soon
can I get it?".
Money, it's everywhere you want to be!
|
| 200.3 | I need to be rich! | RAVEN1::B_ADAMS | Time to get tough! | Fri Aug 17 1990 17:22 | 9 |
| .8� the previous session went onto the track. I was pretty close to
.8� the front so I expected to get some clean laps. We went out and
Is this qualifying like the Twin 125's at Daytona...Where you race
for a qualifying position?
Good luck on the repairs!
B.A.
|
| 200.4 | Glad it's Friday! | RAVEN1::B_ADAMS | Time to get tough! | Fri Aug 17 1990 17:23 | 5 |
| .9� for a qualifying position?
Woops! Starting position I mean.
B.A.
|
| 200.5 | Now all I need is a first. (Nice dream anyway) | SUBWAY::JANKOWITZ | Forget the lips. Read my mind | Fri Sep 28 1990 12:42 | 182 |
| The last race was just a qualifying session and then a race based on
the results of qualifying. This race was 2 qualifying sessions which
determined the starting order for a short race on Saturday. The
finishing order from Saturday determined the starting order for
Sunday.
This event was put on by Finger Lakes Region SCCA. They did an
excellent job! Here's another long race description. Much better
outcome than the last one (just getting to the race would be much
better)!
Well I finally got to go to a track other than Lime Rock with
this car. This race was at Watkins Glen. That has always been
one of my favorite tracks. It can be pretty depressing with an
under powered car but I think my car should be competitive in
the engine department. I just give a fair amount away in the
aerodynamic department. Either way I was expecting a fun
weekend.
I got the car down off the stands on Thursday for the first time
since the accident over a month ago. With a little help and a
fair amount of money I had fabricated a new set of a-arms,
bought a new upright, wheel bearing, had different machine
shops fabricate a new bellcrank for the pullrod, a new tie rod
and a bunch of other little pieces. Friday after work I did a
quick toe alignment. My driveway isn't flat enough to do the
camber. My brother was going to be there to try out his new
Ralt RT4. He would have the scales. Hopefully I'd have enough
time to do corner weights. I expected to have someone to do
tire temps so I could finish off the alignment.
Weather reports said Friday night rain, Saturday chance of rain,
Sunday rain likely. Well this is the Glen, what should I
expect? Saturday was cold but not raining. The schedule called
for LOTS of track time. Ten minutes of warm, 20 minutes of
practice/qualifying, 15 more minutes of practice/qualifying and
a 7 lap race on Saturday. Sunday was a 10 min. warm up then a 14
lap race. I unloaded the car and went to work. Get the car
through tech (re-inspect the suspension- ) get a new tire
mounted to replace the one that was dragged around during the accident
I ended up heading out for the track after everyone else had
gone out. I just needed a couple of laps to warm up the new
tire and bed the new brakes (the pads on the right had been torn
up when the broken rotor went through the caliper). I ended up
being flagged down as I was about to exit the pits. The warm up
session was about to end. I guess I had to wait for the
qualifying session.
I set up a tarp to keep out of the inevitable rain, went over
all of the bolts in the front suspension to insure they were
all tight. When the qualifying session began I spent most of the
time trying to figure out which gear to use in which corner. I
started off slowly and picked up my pace at about two seconds a
lap till I got down to a 2:10. I figure I should be able to get
down to a 2:04 in the end. When the qualifying sheets came out
I found out that there were only 3 Formula Fords there
including mine. I had never heard of such a small field for this
class. I was 3rd. Second was just ahead of me with a 2:09 and
the first car was a few cars up with about a 2:06. I wouldn't
have any problem going faster than 2:09, 2:06 would be a bit
harder. I set my sights on second place.
I spent the time till the next qualifying session cleaning dirt
out of the car from a month before, looking over the suspension
to make sure there were no cracks and none of the bolts had loosened
up. My wife wouldn't be up there until that afternoon, my
brother was out on the track in my session, his wife had his
kids and some other friends who we thought could help each other
were in the session before ours so couldn't help out. So, no
tire temps. My brothers wife took lap times for both of us
somehow while holding onto the two babies. I went out in the
second qualifying session and ran with the first place club ford
for most of the
session. I slowed down a bit too much for some debris on the
track and he pulled away a bit. I could see where he was
quicker and where I was quicker. The fast chute at the end of
the back straight he would pull out a bit and I would catch him
in the toe of the boot. There is a fast lefthander that should
be flat in third but I couldn't get there yet. He would pull
away a bit there too. I got down to a 2:08 but that still put
me in third. The car right in front of me was the 2nd place
F.F. though a few 10ths faster. I would start alongside him. The
first place C.F. actually out qualified both of us which
embarrassed me a bit. My car has newer more aerodynamic suspension
so I should be faster at a track like the Glen.
I made a good start for once in the race. I got ahead of the 2nd
place car in the first turn and passed the C.F. on the back
straight putting him between us. That didn't last too long. Soon
he was on my tail. He would screw up and I would pull a few car
lengths then I would screw up (miss a shift, brake too late)
and he would be right back on me. Again, I could see where he
was driving faster and where I was driving faster. In the
middle of the 6th lap he pulled out to pass me and I let him
by. I sat right on his tail for the rest of the lap looking for
a place to get him back. I wasn't sure whether we were on the
6th lap or the 7th. I would have been upset if he passed me on
the last lap. We came by the start finish line and there was no
checker out so I had a full lap to get back around. He missed a
shift in the first turn which gave me more momentum on the back
straight and I went right by. He then spun in the chute trying
to catch me again. I got second but what a fight. That was
probably the most fun race I have had. Sunday would be twice
the distance so that would be tough.
I could now run a little faster down the chute although not as
fast as possible. For the fast left I would short shift into
third (6000 instead of 6500) just before entering the turn, hold
my breath and run flat through on most laps. Running flat
through that turn would leave me up on the curbing on the exit
every lap! I would exhale and my visor would fog up and then
clear. Talk about adrenalin.
Sunday morning I drove out on the track for the warm up and the
car wouldn't run. It coughed and sputtered. I thought I was
lucky to make it back to the pits. After taking the carb apart I
found a wood splinter stuck in the main jet. Put the carb back
together and it seemed fine.
As the day went on the weather got worse. It started to rain
lightly on and of. I couldn't decide whether I should bother
going out if it rained. I didn't want to rebuild the suspension
again. The rain became steady. I decided to give it a try.
Someday I may not have as much of a choice about going out. I
could go out and if I wasn't comfortable I could always come
back in. We put air in the rains, bolted them up, taped up any
gaps in the bodywork that we could to keep the water out, set
the swaybars full soft and I went out to the grid. I was now
starting in 2nd. First in my class was the next car up and the
next car back was the car I had beaten on Saturday. The car
behind me went by me at the start and I quickly realized my car
was a real handful to drive. I had wild oversteer whenever I
would try pushing. The two cars in front walked away and there
was nothing I could do. After 5 laps a car got stuck on the
track and they had to send out a two truck for it. They put out
the pace car and we got ready for another start. I thought I
would try to stay with them again. The green flag came out and
by the time we got halfway down the front straight I couldn't
see a thing through the water being kicked up. I eased up down
the straight till I could see the first turn and then started
pushing again. I still couldn't get the car to drive. It was
side ways in every turn. It wouldn't be smoothly sideways
either. I would correct one direction and it would kick back
the other and oscillate three or four times until I could get it
straight. It got pretty scary a few times. I kept looking in my
mirror for the first place C.F. behind me but to my surprise he
never caught me. At one point I went through the esses onto the
back straight and felt the back end get loose where I was about
to shift into 4th. I thought about just packing it in for the
day but the race was only a few laps from being over. I went
passed start/finish onto the last lap and saw a waving yellow
flag in the first turn. It was the first place car in my class
stuck in the grass on the outside of the track where he had
spun. All I had to do was get the car back around and I would
take second again. I slowed up 20 seconds on that lap to insure
I couldn't screw up and I still ended up ahead of the C.F.
race. Wheh, that race wasn't fun until it was over.
Next time I will try disconnecting the swaybars all together.
Maybe that will make the car handle a little better in the rain.
Oct. 6th I'll be back up there. Hopefully the weather will be
dry!
By the way, there was only one other Atlantic besides my brother
and he didn't get out in either qualifying session. My brother
had the pole for the first race 9 seconds ahead of the next car.
He also set a new best time for himself, 2 seconds faster than
he ran in his old car. He walked away in the race on Sat. and
decided not to run in the rain on Sun.
|
| 200.6 | Still no first place. Maybe next year | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Lost in Wonderland | Wed Oct 17 1990 11:54 | 67 |
|
This was probably my last race of the season. My second in this
car at Watkins Glen. I had simple goals for the weekend. Finish
the race! A finish would give me enough races for a National
license next year.
Since I didn't have a chance to do the corner weights since the
accident I finally put it on the scales before the weekend. I
was very surprised to find that the front corner weights were
equal and the rears were within 8 pounds. I moved the weight
around a bit to get the difference down a little in the rear.
My wife and I went up to help my sister-in-law at the drivers
school on Friday. She wanted to drive the Formula Atlantic once
to see what it was like. My wife and I helped with their kids
and the car. For a first time in the car she did real well.
She ended up running times about what I ran in the FF. I haven't
driven the RT4 but I am sure it's pretty intimidating. She also
found the Shelbys intimidating during the school. When I had
some free time I would do some cleaning and checking around my
car. Everything seemed OK.
I wasn't very fast in the first qualifying session. There was
plenty of time left out there but I ended up second on the grid.
The first place car was a couple of seconds ahead. I figured I
could cut 1 to 2 seconds off my time in the session on Sunday
morning. I also figured that some of the other cars would also
be faster on Sunday and I'd have to get my times down.
Sunday's qualifying session was a disaster! We did about two
laps and got red flagged because of a fire that broke out in the
back of one of the Atlantics. This was his second fire of the
weekend. After the first one melted his wires he borrowed the
wires from my brothers car. Now my brothers wires got toasted.
After they pulled him in we went back out. One of the Shelbys
went back out right behind me. He passed me on the back straight
and slowed WAY down at the end of the straight. He held me up
for the rest of the lap. On the front straight I slowed way down
to let him have some room so I wouldn't get held up again. That
meant two lost lap times. I started to go again and then the
checker came out within two laps. I hadn't even gone as fast as
the first session. Luckily nobody from behind caught me. I was
still in second for the start.
To be considered a finisher I only had to complete more than 1/2
the race. Since this was a 12 lap race I had to complete 7 laps.
I actually thought if it came down to a dice for position I
would hold off until the 8th lap. I got off ok at the start. It
still takes me too long to get my times down when I go out. The
cars in front of me pulled away pretty quickly and I pulled away
from the cars behind me. I didn't have a pit board so I didn't
know how slowly I was running. On the seventh lap I started to
try to pick up my pace. The lap times don't show it because
there was a yellow out in one corner that remained for the rest
of the race. I didn't see another car until the second to last
lap when I started to lap the backmarkers. It got so boring that
I would go into the first turn and try to look up the hill at
the 4th turn to see if there was another car I could try to
catch. I saw one and tried to pick up my pace but by then it was
too late.
I shouldn't complain about a 2nd place finish. I still think I
didn't run too quickly. With 9 cars in my class I'm surprised
that there was only one car quicker than myself. Next year I
will try to run some National races. Looking at old results I
think I will be lucky to get a 6th place here and there. But it
will give me more track time and that's certainly what I need.
On to the rebuild!
|
| 200.7 | Bench-racing begins NOW! | JETSAM::ROTH | | Wed Oct 17 1990 12:59 | 21 |
| Get the National License!
National license is the way to more seat time, more choices of
races, and a look at better competition. Quality seat time.
Nationals typically have more tracktime; (untimed practice session,
usually 20 min., timed qualifying session, about 25 min., and a race
distance of around 45-50 miles) as compared to Regional competition.
I do agree that the advent of two-day regionals has been a tremendous
help providing additional seat time, but the race distance is still
usually half distance to a National.
Seat time is key, but chasing a Nationally competitive driver,
(even if you just pointed him/her by, as in going a lap down) will
present you with the opportunity for a REAL education.
Let the bench-racing season begin!!!
br
|
| 200.8 | | ALIEN::MCCULLEY | RSX Pro | Fri Oct 19 1990 19:09 | 18 |
| .13> I do agree that the advent of two-day regionals has been a tremendous
.13> help providing additional seat time, but the race distance is still
.13> usually half distance to a National.
hunh? what "advent of two-day regionals"? When I started flagging,
back in 1971 or 1972, I thought two-day regionals were the norm. It
was only recently that I found one-day regionals to be common, and at
first I attributed it to the combination of Lime Rock Park and
Connecticut's blue laws.
But this weekend we have a one-day regional at Bryar/NHIS, for the
first time in my memory it's a weekend that doesn't at least have
road-racing activities both days (don't get me wrong, I am not
denigrating the Solo folks, but they can and do run in almost any
random parking lot while road racers have a scarcity of dates at a
scarcity of venues).
so I say again, what "advent of two-day regionals"?
|
| 200.9 | great weekend | MLCSSE::EVANS | | Mon Oct 22 1990 12:24 | 12 |
| Well, we made it through the SOLO/RACE weekend up at NHIS with lots of
fun. We tried to get a combined SOLO/RALLY/RACE weekend but couldn't
pull it off. Maybe next year.
I can say that a certain NER lady won the "Ladies Street Prepared"
class in the NHIS pickup. No names. Her first official time posted was
"LOTS". There is more than one NER lady who reads the notes file....
At the awards ceremony, someone asked if "Ladies Street Prepared"
should be classified as "Hooker" class.
jim e
|
| 200.10 | FIRST RACE: Limerock Park, CT 7/20/90 | CSS::MCOX | | Tue Feb 05 1991 09:47 | 527 |
|
GOIN' RACIN': Adventures of a Rookie Hotshoe
by Mike Cox
17 January 1991
SATURDAY PRACTICE
The car ran horribly when I started it up for the first
practice session. Loading it onto the trailer the night
before, the engine had run fine. Now it seemed to be firing
on one cylinder, coughing and wheezing badly. Being a novice
'Gearhead', I panicked. I had only five minutes to get to the
false grid before the start of the session. I needed every
minute of track time, so I didn't want to be late. John
Weaver, parked next to me, tried to help figure out what the
problem was, but there was no time left to do any serious
troubleshooting. With the engine missing and sputtering, I
drove to the false grid anyway. I was not particularly
thrilled about the way my weekend was starting.
Once I had taken my position in line, I anxiously climbed
out of the car and made one last feverish attempt to find the
problem. The remaining few minutes slipped away quickly, and
I had to rush to get myself belted in as the cars around me
left for the track. Since this was only the third time I'd
ever driven this car, I fumbled and groped getting in: first
with the five-point harness--readjusting the length of the
straps and getting all the twists out, figuring out which
buckle went where, and retightening each belt; then with the
window net--digging out the rod, attached to the top of the
net, from between the seat and the side bars of the roll cage,
shoving the rod tip through the microscopic hole in the rear
net support bracket, and buckling the front of the net into
position; then with my helmet and gloves; then with the safety
pin on the fire bottle. By the time I finished, I was
wild-eyed and frothing. Half crazed, heart pumping furiously,
I fired up the engine and putt-putted out, figuring, at worst,
I'd have to park in the grass and wait for the tow truck.
Once on the track, the engine misfire seemed to abate, but
I was still flustered from my anxiety-attack on the false
grid. I soon realized I was missing the apex at nearly every
corner, some by four feet. I thought it was me--thought I was
just too tense. Twice I drove off the outside of the track at
the turn-in point for the second half of the Esses. The first
time I was lucky; the two leftside tires kicked up a cloud of
dust, but I kept motoring. The second time things got ugly.
I missed the apex at the Lefthander and the car drifted wide
as I accelerated through the corner. I tightened my turn to
get back out to the entry point for the next righthand
corner--BIG MISTAKE. The rear end started to come around; I
corrected; the car fish-tailed the other way, and I was in the
grass outside the track, headed straight for the brush at
50mph!!! Terrified, I pumped the brakes furiously to slow
the wild beast. The wet grass was like ice. "This is it!" I
cringed. "My racing career is over, and I haven't even
qualified for my first @^#&$in' race!" I braced for the
sickening THUD that I knew was coming. Miraculously, the car
slowed and I regained steering control, barely twenty feet
from the edge of the runoff area. My heart was doing a
double-time Rhumba. "Thank you, thank you..." I thought.
"Now, about the engine..."
By the fourth lap I caught on: the welded rearend! This
was the first time I'd driven the car since welding together
the spider gears in the differential. (We REAL racers do that
to 'get the power down' better in the corners). My wonderful
'no-slip' differential was screwing up my turn-ins, causing
the car to understeer badly entering the corners. Once this
realization lodged itself in my cranium, I started cranking
the wheel more to turn in, and-- SING HALLELUJAH!!!-- I found
the apexes!
After six laps, the practice session was over, and I
motored back to the paddock. The water temperature soared
quickly to the top of the gauge. I shut off the engine, and
Charlie, my crew, and I pushed the car back to camp. Opening
the hood, we discovered antifreeze had sprayed everywhere from
a pressure leak at the top of the radiator. I was numbstruck.
This was my second radiator. The first one hadn't been up
to the task, and it--and the inattentive driver-- had allowed
the engine to overheat in the middle of the driver's school,
six weeks earlier. I'd put in this radiator two weeks ago,
along with the new engine.
"A blown radiator and an engine that doesn't want to run;
What's next?" I muttered to myself. This wasn't quite the way
I'd always dreamed it would be. Racing was supposed to be
FUN, for God's sake! It wasn't supposed to be a full-time
career in auto mechanics! (Reality was taking awhile to sink
in.) I was ready to cash in my chips and go do some serious
drinking. "I really NEED this kind of aggravation!" I fumed.
Time passed as I stared into space...
After a few minutes, I came to a sobering realization: I
couldn't quit; I had no choice. I was a hundred and fifty
miles from home, and it was ten o'clock Saturday morning. The
sun was out and the weather was beautiful. And there was
something horribly addictive about driving fast on a
racetrack; I had to have more. I had to make that car run
long enough to do irreparable damage to it. Then I could
quit. We went to work.
Charlie and I started first with the engine misfire. We
pulled off the aircleaner and tried to start the engine. Gas
flooded into the carburetor; it was getting way too much gas.
We looked at each other with that stupid expression that says
"Duh, whaddawedonow, Einstein?" Neither of us knew anything
about carbs. I begged John Weaver, now my best friend in the
whole world, to take a look to see if he could figure out what
the problem was. He took the carb apart, fiddled with this
and that, and adjusted the float height (I guess). We put it
back together and tried to start the engine. It wouldn't run,
and we killed the battery.
As I wandered around, now totally dismayed, I happened to
look in the trunk. The fuel tank overflow bottle was full of
gas. Through its vent line, it was feeding extra juice into
the carburetor and flooding the engine! I drained the bottle.
"Geez, that was easy..." I thought. [Hey dummy, how'd all the
gas get in the overflow bottle?]
Next, the radiator leak. Charlie and I debated: fix it
with the radiator in the car, or pull it out?. I dreaded the
thought of having to reinstall that S.O.B., since access to
the bolts that held it in place was limited and it was going
to take time. I was getting nervous now; my qualifying
session was coming up soon. We decided we'd have better luck
by taking the radiator out, so we did. We reclamped the
plastic top 'cap' and gooped silicone sealer around the edges.
We left it out in the sun for as long as we could to dry the
silicone, then we stuck it back in the car, reclamped all the
hoses, and filled it with antifreeze. We left the filler cap
loose so any internal pressure would be relieved before the
radiator sustained any further damage.
Finished with the car, we gulped down a quick lunch. My
anxiety, from hurrying to repair the radiator, subsided only
slightly as I waited for my qualifying session.
SATURDAY QUALIFICATIONS
With time dwindling, I pulled on my driver suit and climbed in
the car to see if the battery had revived enough, on its own,
to start the engine. A couple of slow cranks was followed by
the old familiar rumbling of the barely muffled engine as it
sprang to life. I motored slowly to the false grid, parked in
line, and shut off the engine. I watched the other cars line
up as I awaited, with growing anticipation, the mad dash which
was about to commence. I tried to keep calm and relaxed,
breathing deeply and closing my eyes. I pulled on my hood,
helmet, and gloves in my usual slow, deliberate manner, well
ahead of time to minimize the pressure I felt building. I
cleared my mind and studied the details of the car, noting the
feel of the steering wheel, the shift knob and linkage, and
the pedals.
The race group ahead of mine took the checkered flag and
drifted slowly into the pits. The tension started to build as
the grid marshals gave us the five minute signal. I felt
confident, but my pulse raced with anticipation. Around me,
engines rumbled and raced as the one minute signal was given.
The sound of my own car was nearly lost in the din, but the
tachometer needle flipping across the gauge was the only
reassurance I needed. Quickly I rechecked my harness belts,
helmet strap, gloves, mirrors, gauges. I double checked that
I'd pulled the safety pin from the firebottle release handle.
I was ready. The grid marshal waved us out.
Rev it up. Find first. Now, out with the clutch as the
car eases out of the dirt onto pit road. Short shift to
second. There's Steve Hooper standing behind the pit wall,
thumbs up. Short shift to third. The excitement builds as
the car rumbles out onto the front straight, picking up
momentum. Into the first turn, already the centrifugal forces
are pulling as the car accelerates up to race speed.
Cautiously I test the grip of the tires as I accelerate
through the Esses and onto No-Name Straight. Now, stand on
it! The engine winds up to redline before a quick hard jab on
the brakes and a flip of the wheel points the car into the
Uphill Turn. Back hard on the gas, the car presses into the
track and lunges up the hill. Over the crest, the car rises
then falls back onto its springs. Down the Back Straight, the
right foot is nailed to the floor. Hold it, hold it, don't
let up! Eyes are glued to the turn-in point for the next
corner, West Bend. Now! Hard on the brakes for just an
instant. A quick right flick of the wheel and the car rolls
hard to the left as the weight transfers. The car starts into
a gentle, deliberate skid. Eyes dart to the apex of the turn.
Quickly on the gas; the tires struggle to hang onto the four
tiny patches of asphalt below. The car glances off the gently
sloped curb at the apex to the right and drifts left, coming
right out (gulp) to the edge of the pavement as it hurls
ahead, under the bridge and down the hill. Quickly into
fourth gear; the track drops away. Just as the front wheels
reach the bottom of the hill, jab the brakes again. Look to
the apex, flick the wheel right and feel the back of the car
slip to the left. Stand on the gas and feel the car hop
sideways as it zips over the bumps at the apex. The car
drifts out to the left at the exit of the Downhill Turn, and
the engine struggles to make use of the torrent of gas spewing
into the wide open carburetor. In agonizingly slow motion,
the car accelerates down the Front Straight. Lap one goes
into the books. Check the tach, check the temperature gauge.
Count down the braking markers going into turn one-- six...
five... four... three... Hard on the brakes, blip the
throttle, down to third gear, flick the wheel right, quickly
but gently ease off the brakes, back on the power.
By now, the butterflies have flown and we're all down to
business. Around and around we circle, chasing and being
chased. The laps fly by. Each corner, each straightaway is
pushed from consciousness instantly as concentration shifts to
the next stretch of pavement. There is precious little time
to think, only to react. Watch the mirrors; who's that coming
up behind? Point for him to pass on the right. Watch your
line through the corner; gotta stay out of the marbles-- the
dirt and rocks and little balls of rubber that gets pushed to
the outside of the turns. Get into that stuff too fast and
they send a wrecker for you. Watch the gauges; temp's OK. No
oil light--that's reassuring. Remember to look for flags.
Listen to the tires chirp at the turn-in-- not so rough!...
Faster, and faster, the tach tells the story at each turn.
I watch the cars ahead. I'm closing, slowly, inches at a
time. Now I'm right behind, the caboose of a four car train.
I can't seem to catch the car ahead-- don't have the power
down the straights. I brake ever-so-little too much at the
next turn; he pulls away.
The thrill of going fast is tempered by the ever present
voice of fear. It subsides to a faint whisper as I exit
smoothly from a corner and head down the straightaway, then
builds in my mind to a deafening roar as the guardrail at the
Uphill Turn races eagerly to embrace me. "SLOW DOWN! SLOW
DOWN!" the voice in my head screams, as I approach the braking
point, gas pedal still hard on the floor. The temptation is
great to back off early, to be on the safe side. Visions of
disaster struggle to gain consciousness, and must be fought
back. There is no time to dwell on the possibilities, for the
demands of the moment are too great. But lap after lap,
corner after corner, the inner struggle persists: to go fast,
or to feel safe?
The engine temperature's getting high. The needle is near
the top of the gauge. I'd better keep an eye on that; don't
need to waste another motor. Clunk...clunk.... What the hell
is that? Slow down... listen. Clunk. Sh*t! Now what?
Panic lurks. The engine seems to be running OK. Check the
gauges. Temperature isn't critical. No oil light. The
steering seems OK, nothing loose. What can it be? The
session is nearly over anyway; I'd better head for the pits.
Not my day... (not my sport?)
Coming onto the Front Straight, I stuck my hand out the
window as best I could (damned window net was in the way) to
let the other drivers know I was entering the pits. I coasted
to a stop and a cloud of steam puffed up from under the hood.
"Sonofa@%#&@Bitch! Not again!" I hopped out, threw my helmet
and gloves in the seat, and raised the hood. Antifreeze
everywhere! While on the track, the airflow through the
radiator was enough to keep the coolant from boiling. Once I
pulled into the pits, though, the residual heat of the engine
boiled the antifreeze and it blew out past the loose radiator
cap--a slippery green lake formed under the engine. I heaved
a big sigh of relief; the engine was okay. But what was that
clunking? I dropped to the pavement and peered under the car.
I couldn't help but laugh! The clamp holding up the end of
the tailpipe had broken and the pipe end had been bouncing off
the pavement. A lousy hose clamp would fix that!
I pushed the car to the end of the pits and started the
turn into the paddock area. The locked differential made
pushing difficult, but several passers-by stopped to lend a
hand. With the car back in the paddock, I finally relaxed and
enjoyed a tremendous sense of relief and exhilaration. A wild
frenzy of joyful emotions raced through me as I reflected upon
my triumph. I hadn't won anything; in fact, to anyone else,
what I had done was pretty unexciting-- I qualified
thirty-first. But this car that I'd built, my very first
Frankenstein, had survived a session almost intact! That was
a major cause for celebration! "Hey, whaddayaknow; maybe I am
a 'Motorhead' after-all!" I thought. Hope was renewed. Light
at the end of the tunnel? Maybe. We'd know tomorrow.
In ten minutes, the tailpipe was fixed, and the radiator
refilled.
SUNDAY WARMUP
I barely made it to the false grid before the cars were sent
out onto the track. (I guess next time I'll read the
schedule.)
I drove easily, didn't push too hard. I wanted to save the
car for the race.
Very uneventful... It felt nice, for a change, to just motor
around, to get into a rhythm... Minute and fifteen seconds a
lap.
The engine ran great.
SUNDAY, THE RACE
I drove to the grid early. Waiting in the car, I tried to
stay calm. This would be my very first race start. I had
watched many many races, on TV and at SCCA events, so I'd seen
everything under the sun happen at the drop of the green flag.
"What should I do?" I wondered. "Be aggressive, try to pass
before the first turn, or drop back and stay out of the way?"
A serious dilemma; I'd seen these guys drive. I feared
getting wiped out by some maniac going into turn one. The
thought of wrecking my car on the first lap of my first race
was unbearable. Besides, I had to finish the race in order to
get credit toward my racing license.
My courage waned, and I wanted to fall to the end of the
pack and wait for the dust to settle. "That's it," I decided.
"I'll drop back and let the hotshots take each other out, then
I'll pass 'em the easy way."
It wasn't that simple, though. Dee and the kids would be
watching; they'd see me chicken out. And all the corner
workers would see me at the end of the pack, too. "Is that
the way you want them to see you, bringing up the rear?" I
couldn't do it.
The rest of the cars came down and lined up on the grid.
Drivers climbed out and wandered around, jawboning to kill
time before the race. I smiled feebly as one of the grid
marshals walked past. "She must know I'm a rookie", I
thought. "I've got "NERVOUS ROOKIE" written in big bold neon
letters all over me, don't I? I mean--look around; none of
the other drivers are strapped into their cars yet, are they?"
I tried to breathe deeply... relax...
Finally, the signal came and we rolled across the pit
entrance out onto the track. I lined up right behind a silver
VW Rabbit, the same guy I'd chased in the qualifying session.
Next to me was another Rabbit, and behind me was a third!
"God, I've got to be able to beat a bunch of @#^&%* Rabbits!"
I thought.
When the last car was in position, the pace car pulled away
and we started to roll. By the time I got into second gear,
all of the drivers around me were weaving back and forth,
trying to get their tires warmed up. I started weaving back
and forth. "Hey, this isn't so bad", I mused. "I can do
this!" So far, so good...
I was surprised how slowly we moved around the track. I
guess I had been expecting to be left in the dust, struggling
to catch up. Through the Esses and down No-Name Straight we
motored. As we reached West Bend, I had to stomp hard on the
brakes as the cars ahead of me slowed, almost to a complete
stop--obviously a cheap tactical maneuver on the part of the
pole sitter, intended to fluster the competition, no doubt.
As I reached the Downhill Turn, the cars ahead of me
accelerated briskly. I FLOORED THAT MOTHER. Courage came out
of nowhere. "Damn the torpedoes!" I decided, "I'm GOIN'
RACIN'!"
We came down the Front Straight to take the green flag in
near perfect formation, everyone accelerating together.
"Where's all the jockeying around?" I wondered. "Where's the
mayhem?" We passed the sixth braking marker for turn one.
Nobody ahead of me braked. We passed the fifth braking
marker. Nobody braked. We passed the fourth braking marker.
"I don't think I like this," I thought.
As I reached the one marker, everyone braked together in a
sudden maelstrom of confusion. Cars were off into the dirt on
the outside of the turn. The car in front of me and the car
in front of him were both in the dirt on the inside of the
turn! Dust clouds billowed ahead of me, and I prayed for
deliverance. I knew if anybody lost it in front of me, I'd be
in DEEP doodoo. Nobody did. I'm a believer.
Into the second half of Big Bend, I realized I was in a
great spot! I clung to the back bumper of the car in front of
me, and since we held the inside lane through the corner, I
managed to pass three cars who were forced to stay to the
outside. Into the Lefthander, I took the outside of the turn
and managed to pick up another position coming out of the
Esses onto No-Name Straight.
By the Uphill Turn we had queued up, and we zipped through
the corner single file. Down the Back Straight, the pace
quickened, and we were up to full steam. By the time I got
back to Big Bend, the pack had strung out, and I could pace
myself; braking, turning, accelerating without concern for the
cars ahead of, or behind me. I chased the silver Rabbit, the
one just ahead of me at the start. He couldn't pull away from
me, nor could I catch him. I'd close up on him into Big Bend,
and he'd pull away from me down the straightaways. I was
getting frustrated at my lack of forward progress through the
field. "Hey, this racing is harder than I thought."
I watched the joker in the white Rabbit behind me. Coming
out of the Downhill Turn, he seemed a bit quicker than I, and
on a couple of laps, he pulled right up behind me as we came
down the Front Straight. This time, he loomed bigger than
life in my rearview mirror, and I knew he would soon disappear
to my right as he pulled out to pass. "No way, sucker!" I
thought to myself. "You're not gettin' by me!" Before he
moved, I eased to the right as we passed the Start/Finish line
and sealed off the inside lane into Big Bend. "You want by
me, you'll do it on the outside," I sneered. I knew I had to
pick up the pace, or he'd eventually get by me.
By lap seven I knew I could catch the silver Rabbit. I was
reeling him in now, slowly, but passing him wasn't going to be
easy; we were pretty evenly matched. I tried to decide where
to make my bid. As we reached the Lefthander, I closed right
up on him--this was my chance! If I could come out of the
Esses with a bit more speed, I could pass him before the
Uphill Turn.
Coming onto No-Name Straight, I pulled to the right to
pass--now it was a drag race. Slowly I moved up beside him.
Up to his rear bumper...to his rear wheel...almost even! We
reached the braking point. I had to decide: Hold fast and
hope he backs off, or back out and tuck in behind him for the
turn? Since I wasn't ahead of him, it was still his corner.
And since it was my first race, I was chicken. I followed him
up the hill. Though disheartened, I decided that my car,
which I'd spent all winter building up from a dead rusting
hulk, was too young to die because of a stupid miscalculation.
This was the only chance I would get to pass.
On lap nine, I managed to get the car sideways, once again
coming out of the Lefthander. I apexed the corner too soon
and tried to tighten my radius in the middle of the turn, and
again the car started into a spin (funny how that works). As
I dialed in some opposite lock, the car wiggled a little
left-then-right and came straight just in time to make the
next right hand turn. "Damn! Will I ever get this @#&$in'
corner right?" I cursed. A noticeable blip in the ol'
pulse-rate ensued.
By the tenth lap I noticed that the car had started to
'push', or understeer badly as I turned into the second half
of Big Bend. Early in the race I had been able to drive into
the curve with power on, and the tires had stuck. Now, I had
to mash the brakes and pitch the car hard to induce oversteer,
or back way off, to keep the front wheels from sliding.
"Hmmm, I must have used up my front tires," I thought, with
just a hint of satisfaction. A regular Keke Rosberg...
The next time around, as I approached the Lefthander, I
spotted a familiar lime green VW Golf coming up fast behind
me; unmistakably, the race leader--he had qualified on the
pole. I had hoped it would take him at least eight laps to
catch me; my dignity was still intact. As I entered No-Name
Straight, I kept to the right and pointed my pursuer by on the
left, the natural line. A hundred feet behind him came the
second place car. I wanted to stay out of his way too, but by
the time I got to the Uphill Turn, he was right behind me; and
staying to the right, as I did, I had left him the choice of
passing me on the outside of the turn (not at all recommended,
with the guardrail six feet away) or losing time and momentum
following me up the hill. He chose the latter, and I fully
expected to see 'the fist' out the window as he passed me down
the next straightaway. "Sorry."
Before I got through West Bend, I was overhauled by an
endless freight train of cars. By this point in the race, I
just wanted to get the hell out of the way, so I clung to the
inside of the track and tip-toed through the Downhill.
Once the traffic had cleared, I relaxed. I realized I had
passed the half-way point, so I would get credit in my logbook
for completing the race. I had little to gain by pushing the
car, and I was getting tired. "Just finish; that's all I've
gotta do." I told myself.
Suddenly, in the middle of the Lefthander (why is it always
HERE?), the engine started sputtering and coughing. "Why me?"
I wondered, dismayed. I pumped and feathered the throttle to
bring my dying car back to life, but it was no use. Having
lost all power, I checked my mirrors quickly as I coasted into
the next righthander. The white Rabbit--behind me the entire
race--was crawling into my back seat. As I rounded the apex
and started down No-Name Straight, the engine revived. "Oh,
Great!" I thought. This was worse than parking it and waiting
for the tow truck. "Now what do I do? Keep racing, or call
it quits before I lunch the motor?"
Since I had no idea what was wrong, I backed off the gas,
pulled to the right, and pointed the three vultures behind me
by on my left. As demoralizing as it was to do, letting them
past seemed smarter than inviting them to ace-me-out through
the Uphill Turn. "Next time, you bastards... next time..."
Down the straightaway the engine came back to full trot,
and I had no difficulty closing back up on the clowns I'd let
by. "Damn, if you weren't such a @*#&$ wimp! You could have
held 'em off!" I made a mental note to kick myself when it
was over. Now I was pissed.
Into Big Bend I was all over the car ahead of me, but
again, in the Lefthander, the engine choked up. As I sat
there cursing my dying steed, I watched in bitter anguish as
the Three Amigos tooled off into the sunset. On No-Name
Straight the motor came back to life. Now I was totally
baffled. Pissed and baffled. I couldn't have been out of
gas; I had filled the tank before I got to the track. I
couldn't possibly have burned twelve gallons of gas, could I?.
And why was it missing only in the Lefthander? This was not a
good time for a lengthy analysis. "Figure it out later--
finish the race."
Yellow flags were flying as I passed under the bridge and
as I reached the Downhill Turn. Two cars had come to grief at
the embankment near the trees, apparent victims of someone's
late-race brain-fade. The next time around, as I approached
the Start/Finish line, the checkered flag greeted me with a
flourish. It was a welcomed sight; even though the race had
lasted only fourteen laps, I was tired. Three layers of
nomex, ninety-plus-degree air temperature, and twenty-five
minutes of the most intense concentration I'd ever mustered
conspired to sap me of all energy, but I scarcely noticed.
As I drove my cool-down lap, I was swept up in a whirlwind
of thoughts and emotions. As I parked the car in the paddock
behind the van, my mind was ablur as each moment of the race
flashed by again in vivid detail. I grasped at these images
and clung to them as if they were the most precious of
treasures; indeed, they were and always will be. I was
bursting with excitement, and I was torn between savoring the
moment in quiet reflection, or recounting every detail in a
breathless babble to anyone who would listen. My exhilaration
and pride were immeasurable as I contemplated the outcome of
this, one of my greatest personal challenges. To most of the
other drivers, no doubt, this was just another great
roller-coaster ride, or another chance to do some friendly
butt-kicking. For me though, this experience was rare, and
magnificent. Beyond the thrill of competing, the event held a
deeper, more personal meaning.
Ever since I was a boy growing up in Indianapolis, auto
racing had been a distant, mysterious, and awe-inspiring
spectacle, whose participants were god-like men of
supernatural skill and bravery-- the Jim Clarks, the Mark
Donohues. To race had remained one of the most inspiring
dreams of my life, yet the experience of racing had seemed
forever out of my reach; beyond my abilities, and beyond my
courage. Having finished this race though--indeed, having
started it-- I proved to myself that I was equal to the task,
that I could conquer my fear and master the moment. And I
suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that the reality of
the experience was both far greater, and far more mundane,
than I had ever imagined it would be.
When's the next race?
|
| 200.11 | SUNDAY??? | MLCSSE::EVANS | | Tue Feb 05 1991 10:17 | 12 |
| Hey Mike,
Great writeup!!! Was this written for your manager??? We qualify on
Friday and race Saturday at Lime Rock..... :-)
You can tell Mike is a former flagger as he comes out of the grid. He's
waiving and giving thumbs up to the workers with their thumbs up.
Then again, if he doesn't, he'll hear about it at the after-race party.
jim e (a.k.a. Pit Puppy)
|
| 200.12 | Lime Rock demolition derby | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Dazed and confused | Wed May 15 1991 09:40 | 89 |
|
Well, the new season is finally here. I now have my National
license which means I can be in more competitive races and not
do nearly as well as last year. The races are longer though so
there'll be more time on the track and that's what this is all
about. I was also hoping that the people would be a bit more
experienced and maybe the races would be cleaner (nice thought
anyway).
The first race was at Lime Rock. I picked up a fresh set of
tires for the first practice session. Since the Formula Fords
were put in with the Formula Continentals there were quite a few
cars on the track at all times. Last year I was one of the
faster cars and didn't have to worry too much about being
passed. Now all of a sudden my work was a lot more
difficult. The FCs were always around and I had to really keep
my eyes open.
The car wasn't handling real well. I pushed the front sway bar
adjustment to full firm and the rear to full soft to get the car
to where the back end wouldn't go wild. I found out a few days
later that a sway bar link had broken and the front bar wasn't
doing anything! I still wasn't driving very fast. There was more
time available in just about every turn. For qualifying I picked
up a little time here and there. There was still plenty of room
for improvement though. I ended up with a time in the low 57
seconds. It was only good for 9th out of about 21 cars. Eighth
place was only 1/100 of a second quicker and the next car was
not too much farther away. I was looking for a top 6 finish so I
would have to work for it.
With all of the Continentals in my class I was starting from the
middle of the field. That was a big change from most of the
races last year where I was usually in the first couple of rows.
I thought I would just try to make a clean start and see what
happened from there. We came down the front straight and got the
green flag on the second attempt. I moved over for the inside
line into the first turn. As we got near the braking zone a big
cloud of dust came up from the first turn. Then straight up
through the dust came a car! It seemed like it was 10-15 feet in
the air. So much for a good start. I figured -we're going to get
red flagged, re-lined up and get another start- so I slowed way
down. Half a dozen cars went by me and we never got a red flag.
Now I was down the pack pretty far and had lost the cars I
wanted to race with. I tried to work my way back up as well as I
could. I still wasn't running as quickly as I should have been
and I didn't have anybody around my speed to help motivate me.
After a few laps there was a car behind me that would catch me
in one turn and I'd pull away in another. We ran that way for a
couple of laps. I'd just try to concentrate on my driving and he
couldn't get close enough to make a pass attempt.
It seemed that every couple of laps there was another accident
someplace around the track. After about ten laps (?) the pace
car came out so they could clean up some of the debris. Luckily
for me, the lead car was between me and the car behind me. The
pace car waved me on around so I was able rejoin at the tail of
the field. instead of losing a lap. That meant that I had more
cars in front of me to try to get through. It also meant that
the car I was running with was now a lap down and wouldn't
bother me any more.
The pace car went in and the green flag came out. Again cars
started to litter themselves around the track. I was going
through the fastest turn and the slowest turn fairly well by now
but the rest had room for improvement. With all of the yellow
flags I didn't have many laps where I could push hard for the
whole lap.
One of my problems seemed to be that I would slow down too much
for yellow flags. It seemed that the other cars wouldn't slow
down very much and I would lose them. With all of the accidents
I thought at least a few of them must have been cars in front of
me. No such luck. Every single one of the cars that went out of
the race was either a Continental or Ford that was already
behind me.
After about another 10 laps they threw the checkered flag ending
the race about 7 laps early. The final results have me in
10th place. Certainly not the results I was hoping for. After
that race it was a triumph just to be driving the car at the
end.
It was another good learning experience. I'm going to have to
start using some of what I'm learning soon! The next race I'm
planning on is at Watkins Glen in about 4 weeks. The sway bar is
fixed, now I just have to make the car handle better (maybe a
new set of springs) and then just drive faster! No problem!
|
| 200.13 | ITB/C Race at NHIS, May 27, 1991 | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Wed Jun 19 1991 18:25 | 175 |
|
NEW HAMPSHIRE INTERNATIONAL SPEEDWAY,
SCCA REGIONAL RACE, MAY 27, 1991
RACE GROUP 2, ITB & C
"Man, it just dudn't get any better than this."
I started outside row 7. As I motored down the pit lane,
I felt great confidence. I'd survived two previous race
starts, so I knew what to expect (yeah, right). In the
qualifying session, I'd cut 2 seconds off my best lap time
from last Fall, and half a second off my best practice lap
last Thursday. I was psyched. I planned my starting
strategy. As we circled the track on the pace lap, my
excitement and determination built, and I eagerly awaited
the melee which was about to commence.
As we rounded the last turn and started for the front
straight, I wound 'er up and looked for a passing
lane to open up. Unfortunately, the guys ahead of me had
the same idea, and I had no way through as we reached the
Start-Finish line. Suddenly everyone ahead of me
backed off the throttle, and I had to jump on the brakes
to keep from clouting the car in front of me. After a
moment of confusion, a quick glance at the Starters Stand
revealed a waving yellow flag; we'd been waved-off.
Momentary disappointment vanished as I realized I'd have a
second chance to move up at the drop of the green flag. I
continued warming my tires as we made our second circuit.
Past the tires stacked at the apex at turn ten, I floored
the gas. In second gear, the car leaped ahead, and I had
to mash the brake pedal to maintain my position in line.
The car was ready to rumble. I could hardly wait. First
year jitters were gone; I was ready to mix it up.
Around the bend at the north end, I goosed that baby for
all it was worth and looked for an opening. Coming onto
the main straight, the two cars ahead of me moved apart
momentarily, and I nosed up between them. As we passed
the Start-Finish line, I found my next opportunity; the
yellow 2002 up ahead was diving to the inside going into
turn one--three abreast into the corner! I figured, "What
the Hell, if he'll fit, I'll fit!" I missile-locked on
his rear bumper and tried to keep up. I knew I had to
keep low on the track to keep from causing a big scene,
and the car managed to hang on as three of us rounded
turns one and two flat out, side-by-side, with me on the
apron. What a rush.
Into turn three, I recalled the great move somebody pulled
on me last year; it's called "outbrake the outbraker". It
worked for him, so I gave it a shot. I pulled all the way
to the right, held my breath, and dove into the corner on
the inside to make it three abreast! The driver in the
middle of the sandwich had no track left to himself as the
car on the outside turned in, so he backed out early. I
knew it was going to be close, so I made a sharp right
past the tires at the end of the concrete barrier, and put
two wheels into the dirt rounding the apex.
The easy pickin's were behind me; now it was getting tough.
The guys ahead of me all had pretty stout ponies, and I
had trouble closing up on them. The yahoos behind me
weren't taking the situation lightly either, and they
stayed right with me as we dove into turn one. Into
three, I held a couple of car lengths lead over the next
car, and I lined up on the left to brake for the turn.
"You stupid &$#^$%&^!!!," I thought to myself. I'd left
the door wide open, and Peter, in the blue Datsun came
barging up the inside under braking and slipped by (nice
move, you dirt bag!). I tried to stay with him on the
outside as we left the backstretch and started up toward
six, but he managed to pull ahead as we crested the hill.
As I chased the Datsun, I checked my mirrors. The White
Golf behind me wasn't drifting back like he was supposed
to. I fact, he was being downright obnoxious. Through
one and two, he hung there in my left outside mirror.
As we jinked off the backstretch and I got on the binders,
he switched over to the right and pulled up alongside me
as I reached the turn-in point at three. "You did it
again, didn't you! GEEEZZZ, when are you gonna get
smart?" I couldn't believe I let another one by me! I
was humiliated. Where was my Samuri sword? That was
supposed to be MY maneuver! Where the hell did my brakes
go? Must be those DS11 pads; just no grip...(It wasn't MY
fault).
I wasn't ready to give up. Over the top of the hill at
five, I saw my opening. Michael, in the Golf, had taken
up position behind Ted (in the Escort), who was battling
with Peter in the Datsun. Ted and Michael were on the
outside going into six, and Peter was on the inside, with
a welcome mat hung out on his rear bumper. As Michael got
on the brakes to follow Ted, I motored right up behind
Peter, stealing the inside line and forcing the Golf to stay
outside around the turn. Peter took Ted, and I squeezed
in front of the Golf as we exited six headed for seven.
"Alright Ted, your next".
Coming out of the north Esses, I got a good jump on the
Escort as we started down the front straight. Following
in his draft, I pulled up right behind him as we reached
the first corner, and I dove for the inside, still hard on
the gas (My God, what am I doing???!!!).
I just knew it! I watched as the Escort drifted down the
bank toward the white line at the apex between one and
two--the sucker cut me off, forcing me down onto the
apron. I had to ease out of the throttle to keep from
sliding into him as we rounded the bend.
Into three, I waited until his lights came on, pulled
right, and stood on the brakes. "I've gotta watch this" I
thought, "I've gotta remember my first crash!" I
reached the corner, the car twitching nervously. Just
as I started to turn, my field of vision was filled with a
panoramic closeup of the right side door of a Ford Escort.
"EEEEEEAAAGGGGGHHHH!" I swerved to the right through the
dirt, just missing his door by inches. "Okay, you win
this one..."
I checked the mirrors. The Golf was on my left. Now my
right. Left. Right. He tried to pass me on the inside
through one and two. I slide over in front of him into
the braking zone for three. I cut across his bow into
six. "Yeesh, this guy doesn't give up".
Onto the front straight, again I inched up on the Escort.
He was two car lengths behind Peter in the Datsun; I was two
car lengths behind him; that damned Golf was two car
lengths behind me! "Will somebody (beside me) please goof,
so I can get by!"
Through one, I drove that poor car as hard as I could.
I could feel the tires struggling to hang on. I couldn't make
up an inch on Ted. "Sucker's really hooked up." Michael
was in my left mirror again! "Look you PEST! BACK OFF!!!"
Into three, I scraped him off again, as I inched him
toward the stack of tires on the left at the entrance to the
"jug handle", forcing him to back down. "Brake late!
Brake Late! Don't let him inside!"
Around ten, I got a good jump on Ted. I wound the engine
up and pulled to the left alongside the Escort as he swung
right to line up for the Esses. He held a slight lead as
we reached the left hand turn at the north end of the
track. I backed off as he sliced across in front of me to
the apex, narrowly missing my front bumper.
I scraped the Golf off my left side again, as we reached
the braking zone for turn three, and again at six.
At ten, Ted must have missed a shift. I easily pulled up
alongside him as we raced for eleven; he was on the
inside. We jogged left. I could see it coming. I
climbed on the brakes as he held his line straight for the
right side of the track, leaving me with nothing to drive
on but dirt. Bad boy.
Down the front straight, I was gaining on Ted again. "I'm
gonna get you, you weasle!" I thought to myself. My
concentration was broken by a blur of motion to the left.
The checkered flag heralded the end of the game.
This race was over much too soon.
(Out of 25 starters, Peter finished 9th, Ted 10th, I was
11th, and Michael was 12th.)
|
| 200.14 | | BEING::MCCULLEY | RSX Pro | Wed Jun 19 1991 19:38 | 4 |
| great description of great fun!
and just think, as soon as you get enough experience and feel ready for
some intense competition you can upgrade to Nationals!
|
| 200.15 | Excellent report! | NEWOA::SAXBY | A house! My kingdom for a house! | Thu Jun 20 1991 05:23 | 6 |
|
Keep 'em coming.
That was brilliant, just like a written in-car camera, but better! :^)
Mark
|
| 200.16 | I sweated when reading it! | EEMELI::JMANNINEN | Untouchable | Thu Jun 20 1991 06:47 | 4 |
| I almost started to steer my terminal...
- Jyri
|
| 200.17 | Looking forward to next report | JUPITR::JROGERS | | Fri Jun 21 1991 11:49 | 4 |
| Good piece of writing. Now I have to wait for my heartbeat to slow
down....
Jeff
|
| 200.18 | Slow on the track, slow in notes | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Slime is oozing from my terminal | Mon Jul 01 1991 09:43 | 167 |
| This note is actually a week old now. The race was 2 weeks ago.
Procrastinate? Who me?
OK, I wasn't thrilled with the results from my first National race. I
decided it was time to get serious about this stuff. I could run well
in Regionals without putting in much work in preparation and without
really driving too hard. Now I have to work to be competitive. I want
to finish in the top 6 which means working for my results.
What does it take to be serious?
I started by painting the car! You say that's not very serious? Part
of being serious means looking serious and the paint was starting to
get chipped. It also was a way of making it MY car instead of "Isn't
that John Gerbi's old car". I also tried to make a mold for the nose
so I could make a new one if (when) I smashed this one. That's a long
story by itself.
Next, I fixed the broken sway bar arm. That was serious and was surely
not helping me in the last race.
Then I disassembled the suspension in all four corners. I found the
spring rates which I didn't know. The front of the car was too soft
for my tastes and even with the ride height way up it was still smashing
the car in different places on different tracks. The only problem was
that the car handled fairly well already. I didn't want to mess it
up. Now, it costs money to just go out and buy a bunch of springs and
swap them in and out until you find a good balance again. It also
takes testing time to find that point (and more money). What do you
do? I measured up all of the suspension points and plugged the numbers
into my BGC Systems suspension analysis programs, worked with the
numbers and it spit out some new spring rates that would give me the
same balance at a lower ride height and make it so I only had to buy
one set of springs. With full confidence in the programs I plunked my
money down on new springs for the front.
- installed the springs
- lowered the car 1 inch in the front and 1/4 inch in the rear
- re-set the corner weights
- aligned the car putting more camber in the wheels than I ran
last year
- put new numbers and my name back on the car courtesy of my next
door neighbor (thanks Tony)
Finally, I bought some VP Red racing gasoline to bring with me
instead of just buying the CAM 2 at the track. I had a full
tank of CAM 2 already so I would do the first session with that,
the second session with 1/2 and 1/2 and the final session with
just the VP Red. That seemed like a good way to judge the
performance.
Finally, off to Watkins Glen. I started out behind someone I
thought was pretty quick but hadn't been to the Glen before.
He was quicker down the back straight than me but really held
me up in the turn at the end which is a deceptively fast down
hill, off-camber sweeping turn. At the end of the down hill
turn you should be going about the same speed as you were at
the end of the back straight (maybe faster). After following
him for two laps I dropped back for the first turn and chucked
the car into the turn. Then you run flat through a
short chute which leads through a flat out right-left-right
steep up hill section onto the back straight. I stayed pretty
close to him up the back and held my braking till the last
second, ducked my nose in under him in the turn and led
him down the hill. I stayed ahead of him for the rest of the
lap but he out dragged me again on the back straight and really
held me up at the turn at the end again. Since this was just a
qualifying session and there were only 8 cars out on the 3.3
mile track it was silly to be getting in each others way. I
backed off the gas and let him get a few hundred feet ahead
and then started pushing again. In the next two laps I dropped
my time by two seconds. Unfortunately that was about the end
of the session because I was still 1 second slower than I had
been at the end of last year.
I came in and checked the tire temperatures. I took some camber
out of the left rear and put another 1/2 turn in the right front
and adjusted the tire pressures all around.
The next session they put the Formula Continentals (FF 2000s) in
with us. This still only put about 20 cars on the track. I never
really pushed the car in the first session. NOW it was time to drive!
I started pushing the car through the turns harder than I had all
of last season. The car was handling nicely and I felt comfortable
really sliding it around. I couldn't stay with anybody down the
back straight but I could stay with just about anybody through the
turns. My crew held up my times and they were slower than the
morning session?????????????? I played with the swaybar settings
and set up a bit of oversteer and really hung the car out for
two laps but the times didn't get any better. At the end of the
session I had been one second slower than the morning when I
was just taking it easy. My tire temperatures were 30 degrees hotter
and the temperatures were much more even across the tires. It
showed that I was driving harder and the changes I had made were
all in the right direction. Serious confusion set in.
I didn't know anything about carburetors. Everyone was very helpful
and gave me hints on setting them up. Joe Stimola (worked with
Chip Gnassi's Indy car team last year) looked at my plugs and
suggested which jets I should put in the carb. That, and one
small change to the tire pressures and get ready for Sunday. I
had only qualified 6th out of 8. Not very good especially since
I had been faster with old tires last year.
They posted speeds for cars at the end of the back straight. The
first place Formula Ford ran something like 129, 127, 131, 132.
My speeds were 118.3, 118.6. 118.5. More depression! My car isn't
as aerodynamic as most of the other cars but that was ridiculous.
It said it didn't matter how I went through the first turn, my car
was going to get to 118mph and that was all!
A last minute scramble got me ready for the Sunday morning warm up
session. The car was only just getting to 6000 rpm at the end of
the back straight when it would get to 6200 much farther back
last year and would pull 7000 with a tow. Now I couldn't even get
a tow. The plugs looked a little better so I had again made a change
which should have made me faster.
I was gridded near the back and didn't see much hope of moving up with
the times I was running. I decided to push the car as hard as I could
anyway. The starts always make your heart beat fast. I warmed the tires
up well on the pace lap. Being in the back I thought I'd try to get a
little jump at the start. I came around the last turn with my foot on
the floor. The field was pretty ragged and they waved us off. We did
one very quick lap (only about 15 seconds off my qualifying time). When
we got to the 180 degree uphill turn (the Toe of the Boot) the car
starting next to me spewed out a cloud of white smoke and left a stream
of oil right on the line through the second half of the turn. He was
almost directly in front of me at the time and my car and my helmet were
covered with oil. I knew if we went green on that lap there was going
to be a mess when we came through racing. Sure enough we went green that
time around. I held my position (there wasn't too much question about
that happening) and worked my way around the track up the back straight
down the hill into the the boot. When I headed towards the Toe of the
Boot I saw the oil flag and waving yellow fags. There were cars
spinning in all directions. I already new which line I wanted to take
to avoid the oil. I picked my way through the spun cars and debris and
got back on the gas. When I came onto the front straight I was third
over-all and second in class! And I was complaining about people who
over-drive the flags! Good things couldn't last though and there was a
red flag at the start finish line. Since the whole field never completed
a racing lap they lined us up in starting order again for a single file
restart. Two of the cars in my class were bent and couldn't continue.
We started the race again and I drove as hard as I could but I couldn't
stay with the cars in front of me. I drove hard for the entire race
even though I never had another car in my class to race with the whole
time. In the end I was yet another second slower than I was on Saturday.
More confusion but a 4th place finish.
Monday night I did a compression test of the engine. It said -
165 lbs, 155 lbs, 90 lbs, and 160 lbs. A leakdown test of the
engine showed that cylinders 1,2 and 4 were all leaking badly passed
the rings and 3 was dead in the top end. I'm usually pretty nice to
the engine so I didn't think I could have bent a valve even though
that's what it looked like. I pulled the head, and the intake valve
in the #3 cylinder had a chunk missing along the edge and a crack
running through it. If that crack had gone a little farther a large
chunk would have come off and made paper weights out of many engine
parts.
With only one week left now I have ordered a new intake valve for
over-night delivery. The head should be fixed in time for the race
this weekend. I knew the bottom end was bad but the leakdown showed me
how bad. After this weekend I will tear the engine apart and rebuild
the bottom end. Since it already has new rings it means that it will
probably be a new set of pistons and a set of cylinder sleeves. I hope
it doesn't rain for the rest of the season 'cause that was the money
for my rain tires (plus quite a bit more). Ahhh, the joys of racing!
|
| 200.19 | Another typical SCCA National | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Slime is oozing from my terminal | Mon Jul 01 1991 10:16 | 40 |
| I got the car together in time for this weekends race at Lime Rock. I
had some mixed fortunes but like always, it will take me some time to
write it down. I thought the GT1, GT2 race was interesting, so thought
I'd put this in here.
I was happy that my friend Doug Arnao was on the GT2 pole (his usual
position) in his 914-6. More interesting though were a couple of the
GT1 cars ahead of him.
The car starting second was being driven by a 51 year old man who was
reportedly in his first season of racing. He decided to go racing by
giving Jack Roush a reported $750,000 to $800,000 to run a season of
SCCA GT1 National races! Judging by the familiar Roush/Ford paint
scheme on the familiar looking Trans-Am car, with the matching
tractor-trailer and with the courtesy coach with viewing stand and
microwave dish on the roof and tent with a bar on the ground, 3/4 of a
million dollars is not hard to imagine. What a way to start racing?
That should be illegal in this form of racing. But he was only
starting second!
Starting first was a very unobtrusive looking Chevy with a not very
impressive yet slightly familiar looking two-tone red and blue paint
scheme. The rest of the car contained not one word with the exception
of the drivers name over the door. If you hadn't recognized the color
scheme and hadn't noticed that the car came out of a very flashy
tractor trailer with sponsors names including K-Mart you might have
thought that the name on the car was just a namesake and not the
familiar -
Paul Newman
Newman took the lead in the first turn and the two traded places and
battled for the first part of the race. An off course excursion by the
Roush car gave Newman the lead for the rest of the race. My friend
also swapped back and forth leading the GT2 field. Towards the end he
was in second when the first placed Lotus made a very poorly chosen
pass attempt braking his suspension and putting him into the tire wall
and bringing out the pace car.
Doug won GT2 and Paul Newman won GT1.
|
| 200.20 | | BEING::MCCULLEY | RSX Pro | Mon Jul 01 1991 12:18 | 9 |
| re .25-
He decided to go racing by giving Jack Roush a reported $750,000 to $800,000
...That should be illegal in this form of racing. But he was only starting
second!
Starting first was [...] Paul Newman
Isn't amateur racing great? !? Viva Le Trans-Am!!!
|
| 200.21 | MIKE DINGMAN | SOLVIT::PLATT | | Tue Jul 02 1991 14:36 | 3 |
| The gentleman who gave Jack Roush whatever amount of money, was Mike
Dingman who, I believe is the former President/CEO of Wheelabrator Frye
out in Hampton, NH. BIIIGGGG BUCKS!!
|
| 200.22 | More fun at Lime Rock | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Slime is oozing from my terminal | Mon Jul 08 1991 10:28 | 174 |
| I got the new intake valve on Tuesday night, lapped it in, installed
it and replaced the head. At least the top end of the engine should be
back to normal. The bottom end is still bad but I really wanted to get
to the Lime Rock race before I tore the engine apart again. I'm not
sure how much time or money will be left after that.
Engine back together on Wednesday night, leave for the track Thursday
night. Hopefully, the engine will be back to the condition it was at
the end of last season. I still want top 6 finishes.
Friday morning comes - very hot - weather report calls for thunder
showers for Saturday. I hope not. I can no longer buy a new set of
rain tires because all of the money currently in my racing account is
now budgeted for the engine rebuild. The rains I have came with the
car (at least 2 years old now) and look pretty bad.
The first session is an untimed practice session. The Formula Fords
and Formula Continentals are both in the same group again. That means
that there will be plenty of faster cars on the track to keep an eye
out for. Between 25 and 30 cars on the 1.5 mile circuit, a fair amount
of traffic. I get out behind an older FF and quickly find out that he
isn't letting me by very easily. I drive with my nose stuck under his
tail for the entire lap. He is running considerably slower than I am
ready to run. I pull up alongside him in one turn and he seems to not
notice I'm there and turns in on me. I turn over the curb, back off
and head to the right side of him and come up along side him again and
again he turns in on me. I go up on the curbs and back off again. Turn
after turn he chops me off. On the straights I don't have the power to
just go by. I drop back before the front straight and run flat out
down the hill through the turn onto the front straight and start to
catch him. Behind me is one of the faster Fords. I point him by on my
right and duck in under his tail. I figure he'll hold the car in front
of me a little wide and I'll go through behind him. We get to the end
of the straight, the slower car on the left, the faster car to the
right with me about 6 inches behind. The slower car starts to slow and
turn in on us. The car in front of me backs off the power and I'm
caught off guard. I lock up a couple of tires pull the car to the
right and try to hold the car to the inside of the turn instead of
sliding straight off into the other two cars. We come through the turn
and the slow car is still in front of both of us. The faster car makes
what to me looks like a brave dive to the right in the turn leading
onto the back straight and starts to walk away. I'm still stuck
behind. Again, I pull alongside in each turn and get chopped. The
corner workers aren't showing any flags to this guy even though I'm
inches from his tail. I hang back in the last turn again and run flat
out down the hill again. This time I am moving quite a bit faster and
draft right up to his exhaust pipe and easily go by. Two turns later
he's out of sight.
Next I came up on a Continental running about the same times as me. I
was still picking up my speed though and soon wanted to get by him. My
car is handling and braking incredibly. I try the same move, hold back
in the last turn... He has more speed down the front straight so I
can't get alongside him no matter how fast I get onto the straight. In
the first turn I'm all over him again. The next lap I make another
attempt. Flat down the hill onto the front straight but I'm still two
car lengths behind him. I pull to the inside, he hits the brakes, I
hold off till the last instant and dive on through from two car
lengths behind. Phew! He follows me around for the rest of the lap. We
both pass a slower car going into the first turn on the next lap. He
must have been cut off because out of the corner of my right eye I see
him behind me with the brakes locked and sliding towards my right rear
corner. I straighten out the car and drive down the escape road so he
doesn't hit me. He let me back out of the escape road in front and
guess who's just come by? That slower car again @#!$. This time I
dispense with that car more quickly and start to drive. My last lap is
my quickest at 56.9 seconds. I think I did one unofficial 56.9 last
season so I'm back on target. The tire temperatures show that some
small tire pressure changes are all that seem to be required.
The next session was qualifying and boy is it hot out! How did it
happen? That same slow car is in front of me again! It takes me two
laps to pass him again. He is running times at 1 minute even and won't
let me by. I don't know who it is but I won't have any kind words for
him if I meet him later. Every turn I pull alongside and he chops me
off and runs me up on the curbs. Still the flaggers don't show him the
blue flag. I pass him again the same way as before and my time comes
down 3 seconds per lap. The car feels great now. I am sliding it
through every corner. The car is pretty neutral. I don't see a car out
there that can out brake me or run faster through the first turn. The
second turn, the only left hand turn I can finally get the car
through, bringing the back end around and really getting on the
throttle early. What a change from last month when the car wouldn't go
through this turn at all. Then it's back to the left and flat through
the right hander drifting out to the edge on the back straight. A
light brake then into the uphill turn. I go through there a little
quicker each lap and there's still more time left. Some more light
braking into West Bend which took the side off my Porsche 3 years ago.
There's still some time left in that corner also. Then shift into 4th
and flat down the hill. The car hits the bottom with good scrape and
slides to the left edge over the bumps with plenty of room to spare
(maybe as much as a foot). There is nobody helping me in the pits so I
don't know how my times are and don't have anybody to take my tire
temperatures at the end of the session. My sister-in-law was timing me
from the down hill. At the end of the session I've run 1/2 a dozen
laps in the 56s. My best time is 56.2. Almost a second faster than my
previous official best. It puts me 6th out of 16 cars, fastest non
Swift Formula Ford. The next non Swift is in 11th. I'm thrilled with
the time and then realize that there was easily 2/10ths of a second
left out there. I am dreaming about that extra couple of horsepower
when I fix the bottom end. I still hope it doesn't rain on Saturday.
Saturday brings a long wait. My race isn't going to be run until
nearly 3:00pm. Since I didn't get any tire temperatures and everything
else looked good I haven't changed anything. I decide not to go out
for the morning warm-up session.
We line up for the race and it's sunny and HOT. Better that than rain.
We warm up the tires on the pace lap and come down for the start. I
know I don't have any power so I have to try not to lose any
positions. We come down the hill, the pace car pulls into the pits and
the green flag comes out. This by itself is a rare occurrence in my
class. The first start is almost always waved off. I got on the gas
early and am holding my position down the front straight. I move to
the right for the first turn and the car behind me goes around to my
left and around the outside. The cars are still all bunched up inches
from each other as we head to the second turn. I go for my normal line
and someone pulls to my left on the inside line and holds me to the
outside and gets by. I am right on his tail as we head for the uphill.
He brakes earlier and much harder than I am expecting and I have to
lift and get on the brakes as we go into the uphill. In 3rd gear I've
lost all of my momentum and the next car is able to just walk by me.
Four turns and I've lost three positions. Not a good start. I know I
can get them all back though but it will be interesting. The next lap
there is a car stuffed into the guardrail in the uphill turn. Waving
yellow flags and then black flags in the next two turns. At the start
finish line was a red flag. On the front straight were smashed Formula
Continentals littering the track. It seems that some of the front cars
hit the brakes for the red flag (as they are supposed to do) and
somebody else didn't! They lined us up in the order from the previous
lap which left me in 9th. I still knew I could get 6th back. The
person who ducked to my inside said he made that move because he
trusted that I wouldn't run him off. I told him he could count on
that. I thought to myself that I will give him that same trust in a
few minutes after we restart the race ;-}. On the pace lap the car
that passed me on the outside pulls off onto the grass, 8th place. We
come down the hill to the green flag and I lose a few car lengths on
7th and 6th places. I start to pick up my pace and the two cars get
caught behind a Continental. That was just what I needed to catch
right up to them. They both squeezed by the Continental and left me to
make my own way by. Meanwhile they were fighting against themselves
back and forth for position and not pulling away. In fact they were
running pretty slowly and I saw some other cars coming up behind me. I
decided it was time to get by the Continental and get myself out of
there. I squeezed by the Continental. The person now in 6th had
started to pull away. The car in front of me in 7th was the one who
said he had trusted me. I was about to return the favor. I closed
right in on his tail under braking into the first turn and stuck there
inches away. He went wide for his line this time and I repeated the
move he showed me a few laps before, 7th place and 20 laps to go. The
next car was about 4 or 5 seconds ahead. I set my sites and started
walking away from the car I'd just passed. I started pushing and so
did he. At the end of that lap I hadn't gained anything. I had a clear
track now and could start working on my driving. There was plenty of
time to get him. Before the back straight I got a whiff of radiator
fluid. There was nobody directly in front of me so I couldn't figure
out where it was coming from. I looked down at the gauges on the back
straight and everything looked fine. After the next turn I looked down
again and the water temperature said 0. That meant there was no water
left covering the sensor. I pulled to the side and coasted down the
hill, shut the engine and rolled into the pits. DNF!
That was still the most fun I'd had in several races. I also can't
complain as this is my 4th year racing and that's my first DNF. With
only 1 DNS (Did Not Start, due to qualifying accident) I shouldn't be
too unhappy. Inside though I still wanted that 6th place.
It turned out that when I topped up the water before the race I didn't
get the cap all the way closed. It worked its way loose and the water
just boiled away. Bummer!
That was a week ago. The engine parts should be in today giving me
three to four after work nights to rebuild the engine. Because of the
DNF I want to get the car done for this weekend more than ever.
|
| 200.23 | At least I had a fun race | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Slime is oozing from my terminal | Wed Jul 17 1991 17:31 | 142 |
| The new pistons, bearings, gaskets... arrived late Monday night. The
engine was rebuilt, installed and finally started by Thursday night.
All that was left to be done at the track before the race was to bleed
the clutch and brakes. Hopefully the engine would give me a few more
horsepower to get up the back straight at Watkins Glen and hopefully I
hadn't forgotten anything during the rebuild. I've now replaced the
bearings and rings more times than the brake pads. My goals for this
weekend? Same as all the other races this year, top 6 finish AND I
wanted to take 2 seconds off my best time last year of 2:06.2.
A late departure Friday night plus the usual miserable traffic in
Pennsylvania meant that we didn't get to Watkins Glen until 1:30am.
With 4 hours of sleep we were off to breakfast and then registration.
Remember I had mentioned that I hoped it wouldn't rain 'cause my rain
tire money went into the engine rebuild? Bet you can't guess what the
weather was heading towards as my first qualifying session approached.
If God had intended man to stay on budget he wouldn't have invented
credit cards.
I wanted to take an easy lap to warm up the fresh engine and the new
rain tires. I've only driven the car one other time in the rain so I
also figured it would take me time to get used to the car again. The
rain was coming down pretty hard but the worst part was that you
couldn't see the corners or the flag stations because of the fog.
After 3 timed laps our session was finally stopped because of the fog.
How bad was the rain? Well, during the last two laps the car felt like
it was cutting out from the water in the middle of the back straight.
I lifted off the gas and realized that the sudden loss of power was
actually because the rear tires were spinning (at about 100mph). That
session came to about $200 per lap for the tires. It did however leave
me in 6th on the grid.
That wasn't to last however as the fog lifted and the rain stopped so
racing could resume. For our second qualifying session the track was
dry except for the line of oil in the "Toe of the Boot" (sharp steep
180 degree uphill right turn). That meant that you had to either stay
to the outside of the turn or the inside. You couldn't take a normal
line. I would try both sides and see how it felt. I was having a few
other problems though. The car wasn't turning in well for the left
hand turns and the transmission was being difficult downshifting into
second. The engine was only pulling 6200rpm up the back straight. That
was the same as last year so I expected more since the rebuild. One of
the faster cars passed me on the back straight and I tried not to lose
him too quickly. He was slipping away and on the second pass through
the boot I slid a little wide into that line of oil. The back end went
to the left, then the right, then the left, then the right all the
time sliding up towards the guardrail. I managed to gather it all back
in and keep going with my heart beating a little faster. On my last
lap I ran my fastest time of only 2:06.998. Not very impressive and
only good for 8th out of 9 cars. The pyrometer's battery was dead so
we didn't get tire temperatures. I had no idea what to do to make the
car better for the race. I had all night to think about it though.
I arrived at the track Sunday morning, lowered the front of the car a
touch and set the tire pressures back to where I had them at Lime Rock
two weeks ago and went out for the morning warm up. Usually there are
too many cars out during the warm-ups to get any real times. I was
lucky and got some clear track space. On top of that, the pole winning
Formula Ford went by me and it made me realize where I could pick up
some time. I brought my time down to 2:05.8. I came into the pits and
my wife had borrowed a pyrometer from one of the other teams. I got
the tire temps and had something else to work with. With any luck I'd
be able to make a run at the person starting ahead of me who qualified
in the mid 2:05s.
I adjusted the tire pressures and did the other dozen things that
needed to be done before the race. We lined up for the start. It
really is a depressing feeling lining up on the last row of the grid.
We went around on the warm up lap. I got the tires and brakes up to
temperature as we came around towards the last turn before the start.
I was going to lift off the gas and then put my foot down around the
last turn. My timing was a little off though. Everyone else got on the
gas just before me and I ended up a 1/2 a car length behind when the
green flag came out. I kept to the inside and kept my foot down even
when I saw the tire smoke coming up from the middle of the pack in the
first turn. It was just a locked brake and I could see that there was
no danger. I ducked under the car that started alongside me. I
realized that I had to get up to speed quickly and drive hard if I
wanted to do any better. The people in front of me traded places going
through the esses up the hill onto the back straight. I kept my nose
right in there and didn't let them pull an inch away. We worked our
way around the first lap and I wasn't having any problem staying up
with the three cars in front of me. On the next lap the two cars
directly in front of me traded places again. I was still hanging right
in there. The car in front of me was starting to hold me up now and
the cars in front of him were starting to edge away. I hadn't run
wheel to wheel with the car in front of me before so I didn't know if
I could trust him if I went to pass. I tucked my car uncomfortably
close behind him and let him tow me up the back straight. A few
hundred feet from the end I pulled out to the right and got my front
tires alongside him. I wasn't sure if he'd chop me off or let me
through so I backed off as we hit our braking points. I let him stay
ahead but he did stay wide. I could have gotten through. I ducked in
behind him down the hill again. He was braking earlier than I would
have in almost every turn. We exited the toe of the boot with my car
still inches from his transmission. I pulled to the right but was
still a bit far back to make the pass going into the next turn. I was
feeling him out and letting him know that I was going to make a move
soon. Again, he stayed wide enough to let me know I could make a safe
pass when the time came. I ducked back under his tail and followed him
around for the rest of the lap. We ran up the back again. I pulled
closer and closer. There couldn't have been three inches between us.
Three quarters of the way down the straight I pulled out to the right
and moved up alongside him. This time I wasn't going to back off. He
stayed wide and I went by on the inside down the hill. He pulled over
to the inside to try to get me right back but I had good speed and he
couldn't pass me. I pulled away a few car lengths through the left
hander at the bottom of the hill. As I went through the turn I saw the
two cars now in front of me and started to concentrate on them. I
wasn't far enough in front though. He was able to get back behind me
and draft me up the back straight. He ducked to the inside and came up
alongside me. I knew I was faster through the turn and decided to stay
on the outside. As we came over the rise at the end of the straight we
started down the hill side by side. I noticed that there was rubber
and garbage on the outside line and backed off letting him back in
front of me. I faked to the inside down the hill just like he had when
I passed him. At the bottom of the hill though I started having
trouble downshifting into second again. I lost a couple of car
lengths. I went by the pits and they showed me my last lap time was a
2:04. The next lap was even worse though. I ended up coasting half way
through the turn before it finally went in gear. I lost more distance.
For the rest of the race I would start to catch back up and then slip
back when the car wouldn't go into gear. The last 3 or 4 laps the
front tires started to go off pretty badly. The car wouldn't turn in
in several turns. I would turn the wheel and the car would just push.
I had to wait and wait before I could put my foot back down. I tried
to play with the throttle to get the back end around but it didn't
work. The engine was pulling better and better though as the race went
on. By the end of the race it was pulling 6400rpm in 4th gear without
a tow. That is about 128mph compared to the 118mph from the last race.
And for another rare occurance, none of the Formula Fords spun,
crashed or broke. I ended up finishing in 8th.
My 2:04.2 would have been enough to qualify on the pole and most
likely win the regional race here last year. I still accomplished one
of my goals though. The person who finished behind me said that 6 of
the other drivers made it to the runnoffs last year and that 4 of them
finished in the top ten. I guess it was a pretty tough field. Due to
my finances I will probably only do one more race this year. At least
I don't think there's any major work to do to the car. I'll probably
just look at wheel alignments, corner weights and of course the gears.
|
| 200.24 | | BEING::MCCULLEY | RSX Pro | Thu Jul 18 1991 13:23 | 15 |
| >I've now replaced the bearings and rings more times than the brake pads.
umm, Glenn, about your maintenance schedules. I'm not sure this is the
recommended situation :-)
>At the bottom of the hill though I started having
>trouble downshifting into second again. I lost a couple of car
>lengths. [...]The next lap was even worse though.
don't you just hate it when the car lets you down just as you get a
good dice started?
Sounds like you're getting a good introduction to National competition
though. Good luck in the next race!
|
| 200.25 | ITA/B REGIONAL RACE, LIMEROCK PARK, 7/20/91 | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Mon Jul 22 1991 18:07 | 175 |
| As I sat there, strapped in the car cranking the starter, I
felt a tremendous sense of relief. And new panic. I was two
feet off the right side of the track pointed toward the dirt
embankment, less than a hundred yards past the top of the
Climbing Turn. Harold, one of the corner workers ran up and
looked to me for some direction. Will it start? I could only
shrug.
Twenty seconds earlier, as I started into the uphill
turn, I knew I was in trouble-- I'd turned-in a fraction of a
second late. As I passed the appex, I would have given three-
to-one odds that I was going to nose into the guard rail just
before the worker station. I fought a massive wave of fear;
instinctively I played with the throttle and the steering wheel
to try to get the car to turn just a little more-- I was going
too fast to lift off or touch the brakes. As I started up the
hill, I was more optimistic; I figured I'd escape with merely
side-swiping a hundred feet of railing. As the two left tires
dropped off the pavement into the dirt, I thought maybe, just
maybe I could make a clean getaway. Then the rear end swung to
the left; I realized that the engine was winding up. I
thought for sure the back-end would hit the railing. The corner
workers were diving for cover-- thanks for the vote of
confidence, guys. It dawned on me that I should lighten up on
the gas; I had induced a severe case of power oversteer. I
cranked in some opposite lock, and the car hopped back onto
the straightaway and I was headed the right direction. The
rebound hit before I could respond with the wheel, and the car
snapped into a counter-clockwise spin, across the track and
into the sand. As I came to a halt, I realized I'd been too
late with the clutch; the engine had stalled.
Harold and the other workers pushed me off to the side, and
I unstrapped and climbed out. It was a tremendous relief to
get the helmet and nomex hood off. The heat of the morning
was already oppressive. After a moment to catch my breath, I
couldn't help but smile to myself. I'd managed to keep my
string of spins during qualification runs intact. "You picked
one Hell of a spot to do it," I thought, almost amused. I
knew I had turned some pretty good laps, and I had managed to
get enough laps in to qualify and get the hang of my new
technique through the fast corners.
In less than five minutes, the session was over. I
wandered back to the car, fired it up, and motored back to the
paddock. I got a big ovation from the workers at West Bend as
I drove past.
Back in the paddock, I got my lap times, and I was
astonished. I'd shaved 2.6 seconds off my best lap in the
Friday morning practice session. My qualifying time was 3.3
seconds faster than my qualifying time last year. Those Yokies
had lived up to their billing. I was starting to feel better
about the weekend, and my prospects for the race.
By the time race group 8 took to the false grid, the heat
and humidity was taking its toll. Moments after I climbed
into the car, Sydnia, one of the grid workers, came by and
offered water, and I realized how hot I really was. The water
was cold and refreshing, and it revived me. After a cup, I
turned my attention to the start of the race. I would be
starting from the outside of row ten. I wasn't excited about
starting outside, and I was afraid it would be difficult
holding my position through the first turn. "What the hell am
I going to do?" I wondered.
On the pace lap the field surged and halted, and surged and
halted, all the way around the track. It was maddening. As
we reached the Diving Turn the pack accelerated, and I held the
car in second gear all the way up to 7000 RPMs, 500 over red
line. I pulled up on the white Golf ahead of me. He held a
nice straight line down the left side of the track, so I
squeezed right, pinching Paul in the 320i to my right. He
eased back and I pulled alongside the Golf just as everyone
got on the brakes. The field slowed dramatically, and I
realized we'd been waved off.
Again the field made its way slowly around for another
start. This time we got the green flag, and again I moved to
the middle of the track. This time Michael, ahead of me,
moved right to plug up the hole to the inside. His move left
him unprotected on the outside, so I switched left and held my
braking until the one marker at Big Bend. As he got on the
brakes, I pulled alongside on the very outside edge of the
pavement. Just ahead, Ray Blethen in the MR2 was tracking
along the outside too, and I snuck right up behind him as
Michael, in the Golf, got pinched from both sides and dropped
back. As we fought toward the Lefthander, Ray swerved left
into the dirt to avoid the black Rabbit which had cut over,
apparently to block my inside move. I jabbed the brakes to
miss the Rabbit. As we started into the turn, I switched back
to the right and made a futile attempt to get inside him
coming out of the Esses.
Down No-name Straight, the cars ahead lined up on the left
to make a normal entry into the Climbing Turn. The track on
the right was completely open, and I figured I could get
past the Rabbit before he made his turn-in. I kept my foot in
it until very late, since we weren't yet up to full speed, and
as we reached the corner, the Rabbit turned in. Maybe he saw
me, maybe he didn't. He turned in hard, and was headed for
the curb on the other side of my car! I turned away from the
charging bunny, and I rounded the appex with my right tires
three feet behind the curb. That we avoided contact was truly
miraculous. He pulled ahead, I gasped for air.
Lap two. I pushed the car as hard as I could. I waited
until the two marker before braking for Big Bend; the tires
squealed and the rear-end got loose as I trailed the brakes
into the turn. The front tires protested loudly as the car
understeered into the second half of Big Bend and the
Lefthander. The car drifted sideways, first right then left,
throught the Esses, and I had to tinker endlessly with the
wheel to keep the car straight. The tires howled as I snapped
the car into the Climbing Turn, and the left wheels bumped
along the broken edge of the track at the exit, the car
fish-tailing slightly as I held the wheel to stay on the
pavement. And still the white Golf closed in. Down the Back
Straight, he moved right to pass. I started over to protect
the inside line into West Bend, but he was determined, and I'd
have had to completely cross the track to slow him up. I
stabbed the brakes for an instant and slashed in right behind
him through the corner.
Two more laps passed. I didn't know how long I could keep
up this pace. I shuddered every time I approached the Uphill
turn, West Bend, or the Downhill. I forced myself to stay off
the brakes, and the tires screamed in agony at every turn-in.
The car slid wildly as I bumped up onto the curb at the apex
of the Climbing Turn; it bounced and twitched sideways through
the bumps in the Diving Turn. This was not fun, this was
stark terror!
Down No-name Straight the silver Golf caught me, and I
backed off to let him by as we turned up the hill. My spirits
sagged as a quick glance in the mirror revealed a train of six
cars behind me, nose to tail, right on my heels. Blue flags
flew at every corner. "I KNOW THEY'RE BACK THERE, DAMMIT!!!
And if I can do anything about it, THEY'LL STAY BACK THERE!"
But there was nothing I could do about it. Two laps later,
Paul, in the 320i, pulled along side me down the Front
Straight, and I stayed wide to let him by into Big Bend.
On lap ten, Steve, in the next silver Golf caught me at the
turn-in to West Bend. I slowed and stayed wide to let him
through, and I realized I was scre*ed. Right on his tail was
a yellow 914, and a yellow Rabbit. I had lost my momentum,
and the 914 slipped by me before I could close the hole. I
squeezed in toward the curb when suddenly I realized the
yellow Rabbit was coming through too, despite my efforts. I
knew we were going to hit, and I swerved back left.
Incredibly, we missed each other, and as I regained my
composure, the red MR2 snuck by me as well.
I've seldom felt as discouraged as I did watching the MR2
slip away down the Front Straight. "God, when will this
wretched race be over?"
The tan 2002 behind me was having trouble. I could match
him down the straightaways, and for a lap or two he couldn't
get close enough to catch me in the corners. My tires were
starting to give out on me in the corners and the car was
sliding badly. I had to brake for the Climbing Turn, and
Wayne caught me as we approached West Bend. There was nobody
else behind me.
As I came down the Front Straight, I spotted the bright
orange RX2 a hundred and fifty yards behind me. I knew he was
the leader, and he was going to further trash my badly mauled
ego by lapping me. I glanced at the starter's stand and
smiled when I realized the checkered flag in his hand was
going to save me that embarrassment.
One lap to go. Wayne was only a few car lengths ahead. I
had to pass him back. I drove like a maniac. I pulled up on
him through the Uphill Turn. I pulled right to pass him as we
exited West Bend. I had him! I was going to get him on the
inside at the Downhill Turn. THERE WAS A FREAKING GOLF
LIMPING ALONG IN MY WAY! For a split second, I toyed with the
idea of splitting them, passing the Golf on the left and Wayne
on the right throught the turn. DAMN!!!! I tucked in behind
the 2002 and stayed on the gas through the Diving Turn. Down
the Front Straight Wayne moved right to block. I drafted right
up behind him and popped to the left. The tach was at 7000--
I'd forgotten to shift! I slammed it into fourth as we hurled
side-by-side for the finish line.
He won by a foot. I finished twenty-third.
|
| 200.26 | Keep it up - racing and reporting | KETJE::SHASTA::RUTTER | I've Been Out Supping | Tue Jul 30 1991 13:34 | 9 |
| � <<< Note 755.31 by SOLVIT::MCOX >>>
Re. Above note, and others.
Great stuff. I really enjoyed reading your write-ups.
Hope you can fit in some more races and reports.
J.R.
|
| 200.27 | Thanks for the feedback! | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Tue Jul 30 1991 15:01 | 11 |
| Thanks for the encouragement.
I hope you can tell from the stories, each race has an entirely different
character. Although the actions are very similar from race to race,
the emotional side can be very different. That's the most interesting
aspect for me, and I hope I'm able to convey that in the write-ups.
Mike
BTW: Somebody asked what kind of car I drive. Red '71 BMW 2002.
|
| 200.28 | Preparation for NHIS on 8/11 | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Tue Aug 06 1991 11:51 | 39 |
| I put my 'new' (used) transmission in the car over the weekend-- hopefully
the oil leak is thereby cured. I discovered, once I pulled out the other
gearbox, that the oil plug was missing from the front end of the selector
rod guide shaft. Apparently, when the oil got hot, it would slither out
along the shaft into the front of the bell housing, thence onto the entire
underside of the car. I have never run this new transmission yet, so it may
prove interesting.
I also swapped out rear ends and put the 4.11 back in. I've done this
enough times that I've finally gotten the routine down (i.e. no more
swearing). It takes about an hour to take one out & put the other one in.
Yesterday I installed new air hoses to cool the front brake rotors. The
left duct had been ripped out at Lime Rock from the tire rubbing against it.
This time I got smart and ran the hose from the airdam up high along the
back of the wheel well and down near the strut, keeping it away from the tire.
Tonight I'll put the traction treatment on the tires (they need all the help
they can get) and change the motor oil. Most everything else checks out OK,
so about all that remains is to clean some of the dust & grime off the
beast.
The race Sunday should prove quite interesting. It will be 25 laps-- ten
laps longer than my longest race to date. And NHIS is a killer on brakes!
I'm worried that: a.) I'll use up all of my brake pads (half thick DS11s; I
won't have a chance to bed new pads), b.) I'll boil the brake fluid (I'll
change fluid before qualifying), c.) the engine will use up a quart of oil,
causing pressure to drop in the tight left-hand corners (I'll overfill it
half a quart), d.) my tires will give out completely (they're getting tired),
or, worst of all, e.) all of the above will happen and I'll be lapped twice
and finish ten positions worse than I qualify!
Oh No!
This'll probably be my last race this season-- the tires are pretty well
beat up, and the ol' racing budget is running a deficit. 3^(
Anybody got a set of A008s they want to donate to charity? ;^)
If you're at the track Sunday, stop by.
|
| 200.29 | come out and work.... | SASE::J_EVANS | | Tue Aug 06 1991 14:52 | 13 |
| As Mike alluded to, this weekend has 4 race groups Saturday and 4
Sunday.
This also means those driving Saturday can stay and be a worker Sunday,
plus (for drivers....) this also means if you drive Sunday, you
can work Saturday...
I have all the specialties on line, so no excuse like "I don't know
what they do....."
See you all at NHIS BOTH DAYS...
jim e
|
| 200.30 | DECday at NHIS | SOLVIT::PLATT | | Tue Aug 06 1991 17:49 | 7 |
| Looks like Sunday is DEC-day at NHIS. Peter's rented a F/A car (Paul
LeCain's #99) for Race group 2, then we're in Race group 4 with the #40
Elva. Hope to see ya all there, and hopefully, with a checker in hand
after Group 4.
(Jim, swing by and introduce yourself)
|
| 200.31 | | SASE::J_EVANS | | Wed Aug 07 1991 09:39 | 4 |
| I'll try and remember to swing by. Then again you can always be at the
post-race party...
jim e
|
| 200.32 | and T & S | BOOKS::GERDE | Cymbal crash 2X only...DTN 237-6302 | Wed Aug 07 1991 14:59 | 6 |
| ...and, of course, you're ALL welcome at the timing and scoring truck
over by medical. And if it's too hot for you, or raining, stop by the
media building and give Marty a hand with results and the copy machine.
(We honestly, really, are in need of someone who can just operate the
copy machine.)
|
| 200.33 | Roundy rounding 2 weeks ago | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Gloom and despair | Tue Aug 13 1991 09:51 | 127 |
| I was about to agree with my wife. I must have really lost it this
time. It was hard for me to imagine being in a place like this. I had
just pulled into the parking lot of what was supposed to be a 1/2 mile
oval track, Evergreen Raceway, in the hills of Pennsylvania. Every
other "race car" coming in on a trailer was a large American car that
looked like it had been the loser in a demolition derby. The cars were
all bent and dented with bumpers hanging off. And this was before the
so called racing started! More than one car came in on the back of a
tow truck. The people walking around have their pictures in the
dictionary under Redneck. I was seriously tempted to just turn the
truck around and head home.
This all started when I had gotten an entry form for a Pro-Formula
Ford oval race at the end of August with a free test session on this
particular Saturday night. When I talked to Ricky Rutt who was
organizing the race he told me how these races would bring 2000-3000
spectators and be televised on local cable T.V. Somehow, I had a hard
time believing that. I figured that the free test session would give
me a chance to see what this stuff was really like. So far I was not
impressed. In fact, I was scared of the thought of going out on that
little oval track with guardrail all the way around the outside. My
brother and I took my truck into the paddock. My wife stayed with my
sister-in-law and their kids in his truck. They were afraid to get
out! We were the only Formula Ford there so far and nobody knew
exactly what to do with us. We hung out and watched the first few
warmup sessions as they went out. The cars would go out, run one or
two laps, a car would spin, they would push it off or wait for it to
restart and go run another one or two laps... We both noticed a late
model decent looking Camaro on the track. When it came by though we
saw the right side of the car was flattened. Only the left side looked
decent.
After a while, Ricky showed up with his car. It seemed that we would
be the only ones showing up. By now I was happy that nobody else was
showing up. I was scared at the thought of getting out on that tiny
track with more than one or two other cars. They gave us about 15
minutes notice of when we would go out. I had gotten the car ready
before I had even gotten there so all that was needed was for me to
get into my driving suit. Ricky said he had 12 years of oval track
experience so I was quite content to let him out on the track in front
of me. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't made any changes to the
car from the last race so it was not set up for the left turn only
oval track. I also had no idea what gears would be needed here.
I went out on the track and shifted into second. I certainly didn't
need any more gears. They gave us two laps to warm up the tires and
then the green flag came out. I drove trying to feel my way
around without doing anything stupid. I was in an almost constant
turn. The first turn (turns 1 & 2 by their counting) was a double apex
turn. I would hit the brakes with my left foot and try to turn in as
quickly as possible with some trailing throttle. My head was pulled to
the right with a pretty severe force. I would get the car turned in
and ease back on the gas heading for the second apex. I could feel the
back end wanting to brake free even though I wasn't that close to the
limit. I would let the car out to the guardrail coming onto the "back
straight" (50 feet maybe). The other turn (3 & 4 to them) was a single
late apex turn. Here I was letting off the gas early, hitting the
brakes with my left foot, turning in and easing my foot back on the
gas. Back past the start finish line in a whopping 17 seconds! I tried
to stay with Ricky but he was able to pull away a couple of feet each
lap. He was going around in the 16 second range. We got a total of
about 6 laps when the checkered flag came out. I hadn't even gotten my
adrenalin flowing yet and the session was over. Six laps at "1/2
mile", That's shorter than one lap around Watkins Glen!
They told us that if we waited around till about 8:00pm (it was 6:00pm
now) we would get to go out again during their intermission. My
brother had to leave but my wife said we should stay so I could go out
again. She had been sitting with my sister-in-law in the truck the
whole time and didn't even see when we went out.
Their racing went slowly as there were a lot of cars and a lot of
accidents. It seemed that 6 laps was about all that these people did
for a qualifying session and they rarely did that without any spins or
accidents.
Around 9:30pm it was time for intermission (our cue). Ricky wanting to
put on a show insisted that I go out in front of him so he could pass
me. I wasn't really interested in running side by side with anyone out
here but he wouldn't move off the grid until I did. By now it was dark
out and the lights were on on the track. It was a pretty weird feeling
sitting in my race car in the dark. I kept thinking I should be
turning on the headlights. Buckled into the car with my helmet on I
looked up and saw the stars out; strange feeling!!!!! By now there
really were 2000-3000 people sitting on the hillside and there was a
truck with a T.V. camera on top of it sitting outside turn 3. On top
of that, Ricky had arranged to have my wife and his girlfriend go up
into the announcers booth for an interview while we were driving.
We pulled out onto the track and got our 2 laps of warmup again. The
green flag came out. This time I kept the car in first gear. It was
hard to see the tach in that light but it seemed that I wasn't pulling
more than 5500 rpm in the middle of the straight. I started off slowly
knowing that he'd pass me. He came up behind me and I stayed wide
going into turn 3, drove alongside him through part of the turn and
let him by. Now I started to get on the gas though. By staying in 1st
I had a lot more punch coming out of the turns and he could only
barely pull away. He got the car sideways in turn 2 and all I could
picture was him spinning and me right behind with no place to go. I
backed off and gave him a couple of car lengths but then got back on
my pace. We got another 6 laps or so and the checkered flag came out
again. My arms and neck had gotten a good 2 minute workout.
They stopped us at the start finish line and had us get out of the
cars to do interviews in front of the spectators. I had worked harder
this time and when I got out of the car I could feel some adrenalin
flowing. I told them how wonderful it was for them to invite us for
the exhibition and what a great time I had. I lied through my teeth
and told them that I was really looking forward to coming back here
for a race. I knew by then that there was no way you'd get me out
there with 20 other cars. I don't think I'd want to go out there with
6 other cars.
So, for my 4+ hours of round trip driving and 5 1/2 hours of standing
around I'd gotten 12 whole laps! I did keep the car off the guardrail
and I am pretty sure my times had gotten down into the 16 second range
even though my wife was unable to time me because of her interview
(she got to answer one question while we were doing our 6 laps). It
seemed that some of the other drivers were impressed since the Super
Modifiedes were running 14 second laps.
As far as the 1/2 mile part? A 1/2 mile in 16 seconds means that I
would have to have been averaging well over 100 mph. Redine with my
first gear would have been about 80 mph. Since I was braking
significantly for the turns there is no way I was going 1/2 mile. I
don't know how they measure the track but my guess was no more than
3/8 of a mile.
|
| 200.34 | Serprise, serprise, serprise! | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Tue Aug 13 1991 10:19 | 9 |
| One for the memory book, eh? Sounds like a much better time in
retrospect. Great story!
I always thought oval racing would be very unexciting compared to road
racing, but since I've run on the oval at NHIS, I love it! High speed,
high G-loads, the WALL! It really keeps your attention! I certainly
feel more secure with fenders.
I applaud your daring!
|
| 200.35 | ITB/C Race at NHIS, August 11th, 1991 | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Thu Aug 15 1991 17:42 | 248 |
| FIFTH RACE:
SCCA ITB/C REGIONAL RACE AT NEW HAMPSHIRE INTERNATIONAL SPEEDWAY
AUGUST 11, 1991
PRACTICE
I waited for the practice session with high hopes, but a mild uneasiness.
I had spent a lot of time preparing the car for this weekend, and it
was as ready as it could be. Considering. Considering the tires were
getting quite old by contemporary motorsport standards. Considering
the flatspots on the tires were getting more numerous than the oil
spots on my garage floor. Considering the brake pads were down to half
their original thickness. For any other regional race the car would be
fine; it would survive a twelve lap race. But this one was
twenty-five-- I had never driven the car more than fifteen consecutive
laps before. After twelve laps the tires would be useless, the oil
would be down a quart and the oil pressure would drop in the tight left
hand turns, and the brake pads would be worn to the metal. Fine
prospects.
I hadn't expected the practice session. For some reason I thought we'd
only have qualifying before the race, and I figured I'd turn a couple
of qualifying laps and bring the car in--save it for the race. The
extra practice time was both a blessing and a curse. It would give me
a few more laps to get reacquainted with the track, but it would cost
me tires and brakes I would need for the race. I considered skipping
the session.
Mine was the third car on the track. The two cars ahead of me were faster
than mine, and for some reason I wanted to keep up with them. I always
want to keep up with the car ahead of me. Like a dog chases a
squirrel: reflex. I followed the car ahead of me for several laps and
we drew away from the rest of the field. I quickly found the limit of
adhesion in the corners, and it was depressingly low. I had to lighten
up on the gas into the banked oval turn to control the understeer. I
listened in disgust as the tires squalled in protest through turns six,
nine, ten, and eleven. I watched the car ahead slip away.
Each lap I pressed harder. I pushed the brake points as far as I
dared. Under braking for turn nine I locked the front tires and the car
skidded straight ahead, toward the dirt and the concrete barriers. I
let up on the brakes, got on the gas, and the car scrubbed through the
turn in a cloud of tire smoke. The thought of making such a horrendous
spectacle was worse than the sickening smell of burning rubber. I
locked the wheels into eleven; I missed the down shift to second at
turn three; I drove off into the dirt as I exited turn six. After
five laps, I parked the car.
QUALIFICATIONS
I arrived fifth on the grid for the qualifying session. My practice times
had been dismal. I was more than a second off my qualifying time for
the Memorial Day race. My hopes for a good run this weekend had faded.
I had spent the time since practice reviewing the track in my mind,
looking for speed. The tension in my neck and back was distracting. I
had to resort to my "just do what you can" pep talk to keep from taking
the car back to the trailer. Small talking with some of the other
drivers helped the minutes pass. Soon the track cleared, and we
climbed into our cars.
As I left the pits and rounded turn one, I took a deep breath. The
routine was familiar now: short shift up to third, give the engine a
couple of minutes to warm up; brake early and hard to get some heat
into the rotors and pads; weave to warm the tires. Get ready. Stay
calm, be smooth.
Down the front straight, Rick Pocock slipped by on the inside. I
watched him motor merrily away through the oval turn. No sweat. Into
turn three I buried the brake pedal at the first pylon and finished
braking fifty feet before the turn-in point. Okay, there's some time
there. Hard on the gas passing the appex, the rear end slipped left as
the drive wheel broke free for an instant. Plenty of torque. Up the
hill I wound it to redline before shifting to third. Into six, the
tires squealed lightly under braking. Over the hilltop I could feel
the centrifugal force tugging as I rounded the bend, then the nose dove
sharply as I braked for turn nine. A squall from the front tires arose
as I turned the wheel and headed into the left hand bend. Adding
power, the tires screeched all the way to the bottom of the hill. A hard
jab on the brakes and a flip of the wheel got the back end to the left
for a quick trip past the tires stacked at the appex at ten. Four
thousand RPMs showed on the tachometer at the exit of the turn. Not
bad. At eleven I forced myself to brake sooner, and came out of the
corner 200 RPMs faster than before. There's a message there.
The track was starting to feel familiar: the brake points, the turn-in
points. It didn't help me relax. I caught myself hyperventilating,
and forced myself to take deep breaths down the straightaways. I could
feel my heart beating feverishly. I glanced at the gauges, checked the
Starter stand for flags. The corner workers looked bored. I braced
myself every lap as I headed down the back straight for turn three, and
I forced myself to drive hard those extra twenty feet before braking.
Ed Funk followed me around turn eleven and I pointed for him to pass me
on my left as we accelerated down the front straight. He nipped inside
me as we turned into the banked oval turn. I tried to hang with him,
and followed closely as he reached the braking point for turn three. I
stood on the brakes, and the pedal sank to the floor. At 100 mph,
something exciting was going to happen real soon. I was horrified.
Ed's car loomed in front of me, and instantly I swerved right to avoid
clobbering him. I pumped the pedal in total panic, and the car slowed,
but I drew alongside the Opel as it decelerated for the turn. I
thought for an instant that he saw me and would keep wide and let me
pass in front of him-- it was his only hope. He turned in right on
queue, and I tried desperately to turn inside of him, but I was still
going too fast. I watched in horror as the Opel moved in front of me,
and I thought to myself, "Geez Ed, I'm really sorry about this." In
that unimaginably brief instant I tried to think of how I'd appologize
for ruining the poor guy's weekend. I stared at the side of his car,
and watched in my mind as my hood folded back and his right rear fender
collapsed. And then he was gone; the track ahead of me was clear. I
made the turn as the left tires dropped into the dirt, and I pulled up
just two feet inside the tire barrier. I drove into the pits. I'd
been spared. Again.
THE RACE
I pulled out onto the track and lined up for the pace lap in a muddle
of resignation, stubborn determination, and curiosity. I'd come this
far, and I had to see this damned thing through. My expectations had
been properly adjusted-- I wanted to finish. Period.
The weather was absolutely perfect. The car was ready. My mind
was surprisingly clear, and I was acutely aware of everything going on
around me as the field made its way slowly around the track. I tried
to get a sense for the cars ahead of me, to feel the start before it
happened. I played with the gas pedal, and my mind grew still as I
tried to anticipate the exact moment the car ahead of me would take
off. I could feel it coming. NOW! I mashed the pedal, and closed
right up on him. The middle opened up ahead of me, and I surged ahead.
I watched for the Starter, and when I saw the green flag, I floored
it. The blue Honda ahead of me on the inside got a bad start, and I
squeezed alongside as we approached the first turn. Dave Patten was on
my right, and four of us tried for the turn side by side. The Honda
dropped back and Dave and I drag raced through the oval door handle to
door handle. As we approached the brake point for turn three, the cars
ahead darted and twitched, and tire smoke billowed. I decided to drop
behind Dave and take the inside of the corner, but the instant I
started to turn, another car screamed up on my right and plowed into
the back of Dave's orange Datsun. Stunned, I swerved back, only to
catch the flash of a blue Honda passing me on the outside, inches away.
"HOLY SH*T! This is it! My luck has just run out." The middle of
turn three looked like a demolition derby. I waited an eternity for
Dave to turn, but he kept going straight ahead, right to the outside
of the pavement. I drove into the dirt behind the Honda and hugged the
tire barrier. I was sure I'd been hit; I couldn't possibly have
escaped unscathed-- it didn't matter, press on!
Up the hill, I tried to pinch across to the apex, but was turned back by
a survivor of the pileup. Coming out of six, the dust had settled, and we
followed the leader around to the front straight. Dave was just ahead
of me. I reeled him in and just as I started left to pass him, Michael
Reece in his white Rabbit blasted by both of us. I dove inside the
Datsun into turn one and followed the Rabbit. Rounding the appex at
turn three, I spotted Ted Balcezak's Escort parked behind the concrete
barrier to the right, done for the day. Tough break, Ted.
As the pack strung out, I concentrated on setting a sustainable pace.
My greatest concern was brakes. In the qualifying session, I had used
the brakes so hard that after only eight laps the brake fluid in the
calipers boiled, causing the sudden loss of braking force. My near
miss with Ed Funk convinced me to soft pedal my way through the race if
I wanted to finish. It grieved by spirit to back off. I checked the
mirrors down the back straight. No one behind me. I got on the brakes
fifty feet early and pumped the pedal to check for sponginess. Deep
breath. Exhale.
In the mirrors I noticed the Fiat X1/9 creeping ever closer. Time to
race again. I botched the exit at turn eleven, and watched as Russ in
the Fiat drafted up behind me down the front straight. He moved to the
inside as we approached turn one, and I decided to see how badly he
wanted past. I kept my right foot on the floor and the tires screamed
as I entered the corner. I followed the line down the banking right to
the white line at the apron between one and two. I watched with some
relief as the Fiat backed off. Approaching turn three, I held my
braking late and pumped the pedal vigorously. A brown flash streaked
through my mirrors from left to right, and the Fiat rocketed
alongside, deep in the braking zone. I knew he was in trouble-- he was
going way too fast. I turned right toward his left rear fender. His
speed carried him across my line, and I nailed the throttle to repass
him on the inside as he skidded toward the outside edge of the track.
REVENGE! That thought and the smirk on my face vanished instantly as I
watched the Fiat spin sideways, blocking the track in front of me. I
barely had time to gasp. I stomped on the brake pedal; the Fiat
twitched back and forth like a three legged spider, then straightened
out and headed up the hill. I was livid! "You've got no right to get
away with that! BASTARD!" No justice. I set off after him in a
dither. As we reached the crest of the hill, he pulled left and I
passed him easliy. I laughed to myself an evil laugh: "REVENGE!" I
watched with great relish as the Fiat dropped steadily back.
End racing mode; turn down the turbo boost.
Five whole laps of peace and quiet. I was alone on the track. I
backed off on the braking. I listened for the tire squeal in the
corners. There was none. I felt slightly ashamed of myself for
driving so slowly. REAL racers don't save their cars! Look at all the
crap they give Alain Prost for saving his car. The squishiness in the
brake pedal as I approached turn three suggested that prudent racers
ought to. I eased off a little more.
On the front straight, Bob Hasenbein in the sky blue Rabbit creeped
into my draft. Road Warrior time. Approaching turn three, he pulled
left. I moved over to discourage any thought he might have of an
outside pass attempt. Instantly I knew I'd taken the bait; he darted
right and tried to outbrake me, now on the inside. I braked late and
hard. My mind flashed: he was beside me, but two feet back. I was at
the turn in point, so it was my corner. Do I slam the door? Hell,
everybody has done that to me! Wait a minute; if I do that and he
doesn't back off, we both get an all-expenses-paid trip to the body
shop. But, if I don't chop him, he'll figure he can do it everytime.
I started in to the appex. He didn't budge. SH*T! I stayed wide and
we turned the corner side by side. Wimp.
End racing mode.
Each lap I checked the oil light. Dark. Engine coolant temperature
had stabilized. The sponginess in the brakes had faded, and the pedal
was firm. Damn! I might just finish! I glanced at the Starter stand.
The debris flag was out; must be oil. I let up just a bit more into
turn one, and the tires held tight. Back on the gas. Up the hill past
turn four, I looked over to the right and spotted Rick Pocock in the
red Alfa coming out of turn two. In a couple of laps he'd catch me. I
started watching the mirrors closely.
The Alfa blew by me down the front straight. Didn't matter. I was
going to finish, that was all I cared about. From the hill at five, I
spotted Paul Roane in the red Volvo and Gary Engstrom in the yellow
2002 duking it out down the back straight. A couple of laps later Paul
caught me just before turn one, and I followed the Volvo through the
banked turn, watching in awe as he drove the car sideways through the
corner, smoke pouring off the right front tire.
Next time around, to my great satisfaction, I lapped my first car. It
was very undramatic; I ducked inside into turn one completely without
resistance. My spirits began to rise, as I realized the end was near.
At turn ten I found Michael Reece off in the dirt, out of the race.
Heh heh, "gee, that's too bad Michael." Another position.
The checkered flag greeted me on my next lap, and I could scarely
contain my joy. As I motored around the track on my cool-off lap, I
waved to the corner workers as if I'd won. God, it felt great!
I parked at impound and checked the car over. Not a scratch. What a
day! I shook my head and smiled.
I'd started sixteenth, finished tenth; my first top ten finish.
|
| 200.36 | Fifth and last? race of the season | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Gloom and despair | Fri Aug 16 1991 10:09 | 166 |
| Finally, a track I haven't driven on before, Summit Point West
Virginia. I have been to the track before to help out so I knew
basically what most of the track looked like. I did know that the track
was notoriously slippery. Most importantly though I had no idea what
gears to put in the car. In my case it also probably meant what gears
to buy for the car as I don't have too many. Bruce McCulley hooked me
up through internet with Dave Gomberg in the D.C. region. Dave in turn
asked his "most trusted" Formula Ford driver what gears he used and
passed them back to me. Using a gear chart program my brother wrote, I
converted the gears from the transmission with a 9:31 ring and pinion
to the closest equivalent gears to work with my 10:31 ring and pinion.
The gears turned out to be close to those I use at Watkins Glen. The
only problem was that I'd never had the correct 1st gear for the Glen
and my 2nd gear was giving me problems in the last race. I plunked down
the money for a new 1st and 2nd gear.
We managed to find the campground by 12:30 on Friday night and finally
got to sleep by 1:30 with the alarm set for 5:30. That's the part I
hate!
I'm not used to being the second group out on the track. Usually, my
group is somewhere towards the end. We took the car off the trailer.
After putting on my driving suit, I remembered that I hadn't gone through
tech inspection. Usually tech is just inspecting your suit and helmet.
I ran down there in my suit and got my tech sticker.
Since my brother was going to be in my race group with his Formula
Atlantic I asked him to do one slow lap to show me the lines. For a
Formula Atlantic to go the speed of a Formula Ford that meant one SLOW
lap for him. At the end of the lap he disappeared. I went down the
front straight, judged the distance to the first turn and hit the
brakes. Remember I said the track was notoriously slippery? It is! The
brakes locked and I slid past the turn in point. I got the car to a
speed where I expected it would turn and turned the wheel. The car
understeered towards the outside of the track. When the car stopped
sliding I pressed the gas and the back end broke free and swung wildly
from side to side as I tried to hold on. I kept on the track only
making those people behind me wonder what I was doing. I went through
the next two turns down the hill into the carousel. I hit the brakes
and the wheels locked. When the car stopped sliding enough to turn in I
pressed the gas and the back end broke free in wild oversteer once
again. With full opposite lock I somehow managed to keep going. The
next turn was the same way. Slippery was a good description for the
track. I went through the entire session feeling completely out of
control. Twice I went off the track in the first turn because I broke
too late. When you go off at Summit Point there is this red clay which
covers the tires and cools them off. It took an entire lap to get the
tires to begin to stick again each time I went off. Everybody passed me
and just walked away. I couldn't stay with anyone. At the end of the
session my time of 1:26 was nine seconds off the pole and put me second
to last on the grid. I was very discouraged.
I had been running the same set of tires all season. Old tires take
longer to heat up and on a slippery track it takes a long time to heat
up good tires. I decided to buy a new set. If I didn't, I thought I'd
be too dangerous out there. The only problem is that in F.F. you are
supposed to run all timed sessions and the race on one set of tires or
be penalized. The Chief Steward said he was going to penalize me 5
seconds for each tire changed or 20 seconds total off my best
qualifying time. I managed to talk him into not making a final decision
until after my second qualifying session.
I decided that in order to go faster I had to slow down! I had to hit
the brakes earlier, slow the car down more before turning in and get on
the gas slower. The first session had allowed me to figure out which
gears to use in which turns so it wasn't a complete loss. Several
people gave me suggestions including Dave Gomberg who was flagging in
turn 10 the turn onto the front straight. He told me that I wasn't
getting the car all the way in to the apex and that I should use the
curbing on the inside of the track.
I went out in the second session and things were looking much better.
Each lap I'd go a little quicker. I kept the car on the track and by
the end of the session I had my time down to a 1:21.9, still 11th out
of 12. Now at least, the car in front of me was only a few tenths of a
second quicker. I knew that I could still take 2 seconds off my time.
The F.F. in front of me was Brad in the car that he built himself. He's
always been quicker than me at the Glen. If he didn't start going much
quicker I knew I could walk away from him. My wife was skeptical of
that when I told her. She'd never seen me get close to his times
before. That is in part due to the fact that Watkins Glen is his home
track. Brad has also been trying to sell me his car for the last
several races. I told him that I was going to beat him this weekend. I
don't think he believed me either. Even if I didn't beat him, I knew
that we would at least have a good race.
I went back to the Chief Steward. I told him that I thought paying the
$500 for the set of tires was penalty enough. He decided to only add
.25 seconds per tire to my qualifying time. That left me in the same
starting, position 2nd to last on the grid.
The tire temperatures from the last session were pretty good so I just
added and subtracted about a 1/2 pound in two of the tires. I was going
to adjust the brake bias a little towards the rear but never actually
did. The fronts were barely locking under heavy braking in two of the
turns but if you put too much brake in the rear the car will spin. The
car felt pretty good and I didn't want to mess it up right now.
I lined up for the start and found that there was a Formula Continental
between me and Brad. When we came onto the front straight the starter
waved the green flag. That's now two races in a row that we've gotten
the green flag on the first try! I'm not sure exactly what happened but
the cars were about 6 wide down the front straight. There was a cloud
of dust obscuring the track. I went to the right side of the track to
avoid whatever happened. I must have passed two of the other FFs right
then but I was too busy trying to figure out where it was safe to
drive. I think there was some wheel banging and spinning but there was
so much dust and so many cars weaving left and right that I don't
actually know. I hoped that the FC that started in front of me wouldn't
get in my way. He did! As we went around on the first lap I was stuck
behind him and watched as Brad started to pull away. One more lap
and Brad was away even farther. Coming through the right hand turn onto
the front straight I stuck my nose right under the FCs rear wing and let
him tow me down the front straight. At the end of the straight I pulled
right to the inside and went by underneath him. Exiting turn 1 Brad was
now at least a dozen car lengths in front of me. I wound 1st gear to
7000rpm, 2nd gear to 7000rpm, up to 3rd still hard on the gas. Move to
the right of the track, a quick jab of the brakes, drop to 2nd gear and
chuck the car through the left turn. Foot back on the floor and head
down the hill. The next turn is a fast down hill third gear right. The
next lap I'd go flat through it. This lap I give a half lift and then
put my foot back down. Exiting that turn leaves just enough room to
gather the car up, stand on the brakes and get back into 1st gear.
There isn't even time to get the car to the right for what is the
slowest turn on the track, the left hander into the carousel. After the
car is pointed in you step on the gas and the back end kicks out. I
counter steer and keep my foot on the floor. The car slides to the
right and then I pull it back to the left. Just as I get to the left I
hit the brakes hard and turn slowly into the sweeping right hand 180
degree turn. Again, once the car has started to turn in, I plant my
foot on the gas and hang on as the back end hangs out to the left. The
car slides out to the left and I keep the wheel turned to the right to
make the next turn a continuation of the last, still with my foot on
the floor. Just as the car points straight it hits 6500rpm and I shift
into 2nd, put my foot back down and flick the car left, then right, up
the hill and up to 3rd then 4th. You climb the hill and go under the
bridge. A quick tap of the brakes, down to third and the back end wags
back and forth as I slide through the right hand turn onto the front
straight again. I've just cut the distance to Brad in half in one lap.
At the end of the next lap I'm on his tail as we come onto the front
straight. I follow him for one lap. The next lap I move to the inside
at the end of the front straight and go under him. As I slide wide at
the exit of the turn he tries to pass me back on the inside. I move
over in front of him, wind the engine back to 7000rpm in 1st and again
in second. By the end of the lap I've pulled a few feet away. I get a
good jump on him as we pull onto the front straight and a better one as
we go through turn one. I open up a small lead and set my sites on
Dennis in front of me. Brad watches what I'm doing and drops his times
down to almost the same as mine but he isn't able to catch me. Dennis
picks up his pace just enough so I can't catch him. We each move a few
feet closer and then a few feet farther apart as we encounter traffic
(actually, we were the traffic for the Atlantics and FC's). I end up
finishing 8th out of 12 and am the first non-Swift FF. My official lap
time for the race is a 1:19.5, seven seconds quicker than my first
qualifying session. I was hoping to get into the 1:18s but after that
first session you won't find me complaining too much.
Now I have an almost new set of tires on the car and this was going to
be my last race for the season. I hate the thought of having the tires
dry out over the winter with only one race on them. My wife has a swim
race in Atlantic City the same weekend as the race at Mosport in
Canada. I really want to go to her race though. Maybe I'll do a
regional race. Maybe I should just start getting the car ready for next
year before I spend any more money on this season. Decisions,
decisions, decisions...
|
| 200.37 | Last race of the season: NHIS, 10/20/91 | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Tue Oct 29 1991 10:45 | 446 |
| RACE 6:
SCCA REGIONAL RACE AT
NEW HAMPSHIRE INTERNATIONAL SPEEDWAY, LOUDON, NH
20 OCTOBER, 1991
RACE GROUP 3: ITS,A,B,C
Things were going so well it made me nervous. I'd gotten the car
loaded on the trailer by 5:50am, my crew arrived right on
schedule, and we hit the road for Loudon at 6:00am, just as dawn
painted a rosy glow on the eastern horizon. We pulled up to the
track registration building at 7:15am, signed in, and the trouble
began.
Once inside the paddock, Ray Blethen pointed out that my race
group, group 3, had been merged with the faster cars in group 1, a
result of the unusually light turnout of IT competitors. Great.
Another demoralizing race at the back of the pack. On top of
that, we'd be the first group on the track, which meant my crew
and I had no time to check over the car before the qualifying
session, the track and tires would be very cold and probably
slick, and the shadows across the track would be very long and
very dark. Perfect.
I had really been looking forward to this race. I'd come by a
good set of A008 RTUs from my Bimmer buddy Bjorn. I'd fixed the
broken header and transmission shift linkage, and the car was in
the best shape of the season. I had been hoping to shave a second or
more off my best lap times from the Memorial Day race. On the
cold track, that would be tough. And even if I managed to improve
my lap times, it wouldn't matter. Racing against the ITA and ITS
cars, I'd still end up finishing 20th. Exciting prospects,
indeed.
We rolled the car off the trailer, and I started it up to park it
next to the van. Rather, I tried to start it up. When it refused
my prompts with the gas pedal, we had to resort to the spray can
of starting fluid to bring the cold engine to life. Once we
got it going, I hopped in, nailed the gas to spin the car around in
the wet grass (not exactly the brightest of ideas, since it was still
legally too early to start race engines), and the throttle stuck
open, creating an embarrassing racket that reverberated across the
entire track. I got the engine back to idle, then noticed the
brake warning light shining on the instrument panel. "Oh Sh*t!
What is wrong with the brakes?!!! The master cylinder, it must
be a bad master cylinder," I thought. I really had no idea.
I sat there hoping the friggin' light would go out, and that
everything was really okay. It didn't. We pried open the hood,
and a quick inspection revealed that the dunderhead who'd bled the
brakes the night before had forgotten to screw down the brake
fluid reservoir lid. Not a good omen. I heaved an enormous sigh
of relief, and color slowly returned to my face.
While Bjorn installed the G-Analyst in the passenger's seat, I
trucked off to the tech building to get my suit inspected. When I
reached the head of the line, I handed my tech form, which I'd
filled out at home the night before, to the inspector. Astutely,
she noticed immediately that my tech form was the wrong color.
With a look of consternation, she tracked down the senior
inspector for advice. Moments later she returned to inform me
that I had to submit the correct color form, which had been given
to me at registration. It meant a half mile round trip walk back
to my van. Exasperated, I protested, and fortune smiled a weak
smile for me; she relented and accepted my form. With inspection
sticker in hand, I jogged back to the van and pulled on my driving
suit.
After the driver's meeting, which was held in front of the tech
building, I had but a couple of minutes to run back, get the car
started, and drive to the false grid, which was formed along pit
lane. Breathless, I motored briskly throught the paddock, incurring
the ire of the track guard, who motioned vigorously for me to cool
it.
As soon as I'd parked on the false grid, I learned that we'd been
given the one minute warning. Frantically, I pulled on my
harness, helmet, and gloves. I buckled the window net in place,
pulled the safety pin from the fire bottle release handle, and
powered up the G-Analyst. I restarted the engine. When the RX7
next to me pulled away, I let out the clutch.
As we entered the track, I worked the wheel back and forth to
scrub some heat into the tires. Slowly I reved up the engine as I
motored down the back straight. I braked early as I approached
turn 3, wary of the cold brakes and tires. Up the hill past
station 5, the shadows cast by the tall pines obscured the track.
At turn 6, the deep shade and my dark tinted visor made it
difficult finding my way down to the apex of the turn. I had to
crank the wheel sharply left at the exit of the turn to keep from
driving off into the dirt. "This is not a good start."
By the time I reached the Start-Finish line, I had collected my
thoughts, and I was ready to rumba. I held the gas pedal to the
floor as I steered left into turn 1, and watched with all my
senses for the car's response. At the apex, I could feel
the front tires slipping out away from the corner. An almost
imperceptible lift of my right foot halted the mild understeer.
At turn 3, I stood on the brakes as I passed the first marker
pylon, dropped into third, dropped into second, and noted my
distance to the turn-in point for the corner, still twenty yards
away. Into turn 6, again I climbed hard on the brakes. A sharp
left flick of the wheel turned the car in toward the apex. Hard
on the power, I realized my line would take me into the dirt as I
exited the turn. Gently, I eased back to an even throttle as the
right front tire left the pavement. As the rear tire followed,
the car twitched instantly toward a counterclock-wise spin. A
quick right flick of the wheel countered the power oversteer, and
the car reentered the track. "Hey pal, it's a little early in the
day for that kind of crap..." Cresting the hill at station 8, I
pulled the car through a gentle righthand bend, clipped the curb
on the right, then darted across to the curb on the left as I
braked for turn 9. As I rounded the bend and started down the hill
to turn 10, I spotted a nice target to shoot at, just ahead. I
was gaining on a juicy Ford Fiesta. "Hey, that's Dunklee Junior's
car!... He's a fast dude." I wanted him. Suddenly, I caught
sight of a vigorously waving yellow flag in the hands of one of
the station 10 corner workers. Ahead, at the exit of 10, a yellow
Rabbit sat facing me with its nose sticking three feet into the
track. As I reached the bottom of the hill, my right foot
lingered momentarily on the brake pedal until I was sure I'd
clear the impromptu obstacle. As I headed toward turn 11, A quick
glance at the tachometer took me by surprise. 4500 RPM. "My tach
must be off. I've never taken that corner that fast."
Into turn 3 at the end of the back straight, I closed right up
behind the Fiesta under braking. I knew I had him. I jumped on
the gas as I turned the tight righthand corner, and carefully
squeezed on the power--too much too soon and I'd loop it around
like I'd done a couple of time before. I could feel the back end
slipping to the left ever so slightly as I rounded the bend and
started up the hill toward station 4-- just right. The Fiesta
drew closer. Over the crest of the hill at 5, I pulled up on his
left, and as we headed down toward 6, I tucked infront of him as
we reached the braking zone for the steeply banked lefthand turn.
I stiffled a silent cheer as I rolled through the corner and
headed up toward 7, firmly ahead.
After another lap, I realized that my steering was horribly erratic.
The combination of deep shadows and a fogging visor made it
difficult to concentrate on my turn-in points, difficult to pick
the proper radius for the corners. Through the high-speed banked
oval turn, I could feel the rear end slipping out as the car
twitched, the product of an uncertain line--too much steering. At
95 MPH, the last thing I wanted to be doing was thrashing around
with the steering wheel. "You've got to cut that out."
By the fifth lap I settled into a rhythm. I was gaining on the
red and white VW GTI ahead, and I was spurred on by the
realization that it was an ITA car that I was catching.
"Blumenfeld! I'm catching Blumenfeld!" As I dove into turn 1 on
my seventh lap, Blumenfeld was right in front of me. "I'm gonna
get him, I'm gonna get him!" I thought to myself with glee. As we
reached the braking zone for turn 3, I darted right and pulled
alongside him as we headed for the turn-in point, both of us hard
on the binders. As we reached the corner, I knew I had fallen
short, and he was going to chop across in front of me. As I
cleared the concrete barrier, I cranked the wheel sharply to the
right and nailed the gas hard. "YeeeeeeHaaaa!" He'd taken the
corner a couple of feet wide, and we rounded the bend side by
side. We clawed our way up the hill, each praying for just a
couple of extra foot-pounds of torque. As we reached station 4,
he hauled the car right and dared me to trade paint as he drifted
in to the apex. I backed out ever so slightly and dropped behind
him. Over the hill, I followed right on his tailpipe. The
instant he touched the brakes for turn 6, I darted left and
climbed in his face as he turned in. Refusing to yield, he pinned
me to the apex, as he rounded 6 and 7 right alongside me. As we
approached 8, I knew I was on the wrong side of the track, and as
we neared the braking zone for 9, I tucked in behind him as he
slashed across from right to left into the corner. At the turn-in
for 10, I was close enough to read his tach. I followed him
through 11 and down the front straight like an extra coat of
paint. Down the back straight, we came upon a pair of Porsche
914s duking it out. Jim lined up behind the black one, in the
usual braking zone. The Yellow 914 was inside, trying to out-
brake, so I dove in behind. As I reached the turn, Blumenfeld
decided enough was enough, and he slammed the door on me GOOD, in
the grand IT tradition. I swerved right and braked nearly to a
stop, missing his right rear fender by inches, as he knifed across
my line. "Whew!" Undaunted, I floored my battlewagon and set off
to find more trouble. Nosing up behind the Veedub at turn 10, I
realized that if I was to have any chance of getting around him,
I'd have to lay back going into 11 and get a good run at him
through the turn, which would give me enough of a speed advantage
down the front straight to pass him before turn 1. I held back on
the gas, and the 914s pulled a few car lengths further ahead, with
Blumenfeld hot on their trail. As I approached 11, the Conga line
was far enough ahead that I could drive deep, jab the brakes, and
drift, twist, and squiggle through the corner unimpeded. Exiting
the tight lefthand bend, I drew quickly up behind the trio, who
were jockeying fiercely for an advantage down the straightaway.
As we crossed the threshhold from the infield section to the front
straight, Blumenfeld took a wide line to the right behind the
black Porsche; the yellow 914 took the middle of the track,
alongside her twin. I held a tight line through turn 12, just
missing the end of the pit wall, and grabbed the opening on the
left. In an instant I was past Blumenfeld and the black 914. The
yellow Porsche held the lead as we crossed the Start-Finish line,
but I inched ever closer. As we reached turn 1, I kept my foot to
the floor and dove low into the corner with the Porsche right
alongside. At the apex, I glanced in my rightside mirror to see
my challenger drifting back. "YAAAAAAAAHHHHOOOOOOOO!!!! I PASSED
THREE CARS ON THE FRONT STRAIGHT!!!! HOT DAMMMM!!! Park the car,
call it a season; that's good enough for me!"
Blumenfeld had sliced past the pair of targa-tops, and had clearly
picked up my gauntlet. He loomed in my leftside mirror as I
approached the braking zone for turn 3. I knew he'd go for the
inside if I gave him the chance. Haunting memories of the clever
ploy used by Bob Hassenbein in the August 11 race to lure me to
the outside came to mind, and I held my line right down the middle
of the track. Brake hard, check the mirrors, down-shift, check
the mirrors, down-shift. He never made a move. I snapped the
wheel right, swerved into the corner, and booked. I never looked
back.
When the checkered flag fell, I smiled. The moment was blessed
with just a small taste of that unspeakably delicious ecstasy that
comes from fulfilling an impossible dream. "I'm getting there...
I'm really getting there."
Back in the paddock, I shut off the motor and climbed out. Mike
Jones, my faithful pit crew, was there with the stop watch. I
knew it had been a good session, but I wasn't prepared for the
news. 1:23.36! My fast lap was 2.2 seconds faster than my
previous best lap! 4.1 seconds faster than last year! Every
single lap was faster than my previous best. My official
qualifying time was even faster: 1:23.167. I'd hoped the new
tires would give me a one second improvement-- this was incredible.
I casually walked over to see how Ray had done. A**hole. Turned
a 1:22.2. "Damn! I'll never beat that S.O.B." As I reviewed the
official results, I was both excited and disheartened. I'd
qualified sixth in my class-- my best starting position ever. But I
was 13th out of 25 overall. "Another race mired in the back of
the pack." Admittedly, I was now only 3 seconds off of the pole
time, but twelve cars still separated me from my dream. Oh well...
* * *
As I sat there in the cold drafty personal hygiene facilities, a
disturbing thought pierced my consciousness. I had forgotten the
gas! We'd stopped just a couple of miles from the track on the
drive up that morning, to splash a couple of gallons in the car
and fill the five gallon gas can. I'd paid the woman at the
counter $10.88 for eight gallons of gas, and I forgot to put it in
the car! "Listen chum, you are losing it," I thought to myself.
I shook my head. After the qualifying session, the car probably
had less than a gallon of gas in it.
After a few agonizing moments of consternation and disbelief, I
mapped out a recovery plan. "Jonesy brought his car; I'll
just send him back with the gas can..." The other shoe dropped.
"YOU IDIOT!!! You left the freakin' gas can at the filling
station!" I couldn't believe it. I replayed the absurd sequence
of events in my mind. I climbed out of the van, put the gas can
next to the pump, went inside, paid for the gas, bought a cup of
coffee, talked with Mike, walked back to the van, and drove away!
It took me a few minutes to calm down. I tried to identify my
options. "Let's see,... I could motor over and buy gas from Ted
(the track superintendent)." At four bucks a gallon, I could only
afford a couple of gallons. "I could siphon gas out of the van...
No, that won't work, I don't have a gas can... Maybe we can back
the car up next to the van... We can borrow a gas can from
somebody... Maybe I can talk Jonesy into going back to the gas
station... Let's see... 'We stopped in here earlier this morning
and paid ten dollars and eighty-eight cents for eight gallons of
gas, but we didn't get any gas, and we left our five gallon gas
can.' That'll go over great. I'm sure people do that sort of
thing all the time."
After Mike left for the gas station, I wandered around the car
mentally kicking myself for my stupidity. I considered it devine
intervention that I'd remembered the gas while we still had time
before the race. I noticed the bright orange tech sticker on the
rollbar inside the driver's door. Something clicked inside my
head. The tech stickers for this race were green! I'd forgotten
to put the new tech sticker on the car before I went out to
qualify! If I hadn't caught it before the race, I might have been
black-flagged, ruining my whole weekend. God, it seemed, was
watching out for me, and I found that thought comforting; it was
pretty clear that I wasn't in control.
As lunch break wound down, my anxiety grew. I was in the first
race group after chow. Mike came back with the gas can full
of 93 octane, and we juiced up the car. I paced quietly, and
tried to dispell the gnawing fear. Last race of the season.
Five races with no crashes, no dents. I'd been very lucky, so
far. Would this be the day my luck gave out? Would I be the
next one to haul my car to the junkyard? If I crashed, the good
times would be over. I wasn't afraid of getting hurt. I was
afraid the party would be over before I was ready--just when I
was starting to have fun. Alot of free time before the race was
the last thing I needed.
After what seemed an eternity, the call came over the P.A. for
driver's to line up on the false grid. I breathed a sigh of
relief, climbed in the car and headed for the pit area. Once I'd
found my position in line, I climbed out, and made a slow pass up
and down the grid. It was a beautiful afternoon, clear and crisp,
but I hardly noticed.
The five minute warning came, and we all scrambled back to our
machines, belted in, and started up the engines. As I sat there,
watching the grid marshalls wander past, watching the tach needle
hover and twitch, smelling the high octane exhaust from the cars
upwind, I felt my mind slipping into that now familiar quiet pool of
thoughtless awareness, a different plane of consciousness, the
domain of pure instinct, reflex. The fear vanished. I was ready.
The yellow flag in the grid marshall's hand pointed at me, and I
pulled out and motored down to the first turn, lining up on the
right behind Mike Dimond in the dark blue Rabbit. Quickly the
field formed, and the pace car pulled away. I warmed the tires
down the back straight, over the hill to turn 6, and up to turn 9.
At 10, I nailed the gas, and the car shot ahead. The pole sitter
slowed the pack. I nosed up right behind the Rabbit. Through 11
the cars were bunched tightly, and I knew it would be difficult to
get a good charge at the flag. I picked up the throttle as the
cars ahead accelerated. The green flag flew, and I knew I was
going nowhere; everyone around me moved in perfect formation--
everyone except Ed Funk. Just as I started to move down to the
middle of the track, I caught a glimps of the tan Opel charging
alongside. In an instant he was gone, passing me and three cars
ahead of me before turn 1. Bob Hassenbein, who started alongside
me, held the inside line through 1 and 2, so I tried to hang on to
him on the high side of the track. As we approached turn 3, I
was perfectly positioned to block his turn-in and pick up
a position. We hit the braking zone side by side. I waited an
extra split second, then hammered the brakes. Just ahead to the
left, a metallic blue Honda Civic screeched sideways down the track
in a cloud of tire smoke. The yellow Porsche 914 lit up the tires
in a panic to miss it. Hassenbein was right behind the Porsche,
and I knew if I survived, I'd have him. Suddenly, the 914 darted
right across in front of me into the corner, and I narrowly missed
him. Hassenbein charged past me, and I found myself blinking in
disbelief. "What the hell happened?" Quickly, I regrouped and
set off in pursuit. Into turn 6, the black ITC Datsun 510 behind
me peeked inside under braking, so I slide down and took a tight
line into the corner. Ahead, Hassenbein snuck past the Porsche.
Blumenfeld, in the white VW GTI latched onto my rear bumper as we
climbed the hill toward 8. I groped for the line through 8 and
9-- the cars ahead completely obscured the track. I feverishly
checked the mirrors. Through 10 I pulled up right behind Gary
Edwards in the Porsche. Cars ahead weaved left and right as
drivers jockeyed for position. Through 11 the car twitched and
slithered as I pushed for that extra minuscule bit of
acceleration. Edwards held his ground down the front straight
and into turn 3. Behind me, Blumenfeld filled my mirrors, then
dove right, in a bid to pass me into 3. I cut him off, but he
pulled alongside as we passed the apex at 4. Over the hilltop, I
inched ahead, and slipped infront of him at the turn-in for 6.
Edwards edged inside Hassenbein, but the scrappy Wabbit repassed
him before 7.
I stretched my car left then right in a desperate bid to hold off
the hard charging GTI. I wandered back and forth across the track
like a drunken duck, protecting my flanks into every braking
zone. This was not the car I had run down and passed in the morning
qualifying session. He must have turned up the boost. As I
entered the front straight, I watched helplessly as Blumenfeld
motored up behind me, then alongside, as we reached turn 1. I
took a high line and he drove past me as we rounded the bend from
1 to 2. "Hey, no problem man, you deserve it. I'll get you at
turn 3." I didn't get him.
I held my braking late into turn 6 to close up on Blumenfeld.
Suddenly, I spotted the red Volvo limping along the outside of the
turn. As I rounded the apex, I had to lay off the gas to hold a
tight line through the corner, as I slipped past the obviously
disabled car. Blumenfeld inched away.
At the exit of turn 11 I checked my mirrors. A black RX7 streaked
up behind me. My tach showed 4800 RPM; the fastest I'd ever taken
the corner. "What the hell can you do?" I sighed. As I pulled
onto the front straight, I caught myself pointing the Mazda by on
the left. "What are you doing?" I chastised. "YOU DON'T POINT
PEOPLE BY IN A RACE! GEEEZZZZ!"
The Mazda passed Blumenfeld, then Hassenbein. Blumenfeld passed
Hassenbein. I chased Hassenbein. Exiting turn 3, I pulled up on
his left. He steered toward me, and I had to swerve to miss him,
but I held my foot to the floor and passed him before we reached the
braking zone for 6. As I lined up at the edge of the track to
brake, the blue Rabbit darted to the inside, and the toad outbraked
me. "Damn! You can't do that! I passed you! You're supposed to
stay back there!" He didn't listen.
I chased that bastard, I chased him hard. I summoned every shred
of courage and skill. I thought of nothing but getting by him.
I closed up on him into turn 9. He held his ground through 11 and
down the straightaway. Ever so slowly I inched up behind him. I
tried to catch him under braking at 3. He'd have none of it. By
lap 10 my brakes were turning mushy. Lap after lap I pursued
them: Funk, Blumenfeld, Brooks, Hassenbein; less than two car
lengths seperated one from the other. The track ahead of me was
choked with cars. I knew I could run faster, if I could just get
past. Time was running out.
I scared myself silly under braking for turn 3. I mashed the gas,
and pulled right up on the rear bumper of the blue Rabbit as we
passed station 5, the top of the hill. I waited until he touched
the brakes, then swerved left, and prayed that my own brakes would
hold up. I slipped cleanly past on the inside going into 6, but
my speed carried me wide, as I rounded the tight lefthand bend.
Hassenbein tucked inside through the corner as I feathered the
throttle to keep the car on the track. I watched in disgust as he
pulled ahead of me again as we reached turn 7. "Sh*t!"
Once more I chased the train around the track, gaining here,
losing a bit there. As I braked for turn 6, I spotted Paul Roane
in the red Volvo right behind me. "Eaaaaaagggghhh! let him
by," I thought, "He must be leading." Then I remembered passing
him earlier. I quickly lost my hospitality. "Oh no you don't
[expletive deleted]! You're gonna have to work to get by me,
Dammit! I'm not letting anybody else get by!" I stretched my car
a little to the left, then a little to the right.
Down the front straight, I pulled alongside a green ITC Fiesta.
I followed Hassenbein by him on the right, then had to slice
across in front of him as Hassenbein slowed suddenly. As I
approached turn 1, I realized that Funk, Blumenfeld, everybody had
slowed. "Damn; it's over."
* * *
As I sat on the edge of the trailer reflecting on the struggle
just concluded, Ray Blethen strolled by grinning. He asked if I'd
seen the results. I admitted that I hadn't, and he told me the
news. After a couple of seconds it sank in, and I roared with
laughter. Timing and Scoring had posted the final results, and
had credited me with the fastest lap of the race-- a new ITB track
record more than 2 seconds faster than the existing record! The
absurdity made it delicious. "Good God! That'll stand for five
years! I'll hold the track record for five years!" It was
perfect. My disappointment at finishing 13th faded into oblivion.
I finished 6th in my class, right where I started. Bob Hassenbein
won in ITC.
|
| 200.38 | Sorry if this is embarrasing, but... | NEWOA::SAXBY | Aye. When I were a lad.... | Tue Oct 29 1991 12:08 | 11 |
|
Do you do these reports just for us?
I don't think I've ever read such exciting race reports and I'm sure
some publication would snap up the chance of printing them.
You really get the reader feeling they're in the car with you!
Keep it up next season.
Mark
|
| 200.39 | Hummmmm; Any suggestions? | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Tue Oct 29 1991 13:26 | 10 |
| Thanks for the great review. I've thought about sending in the
manuscripts, but I haven't really researched the auto press to find a
prospective publisher. I've sort of written off people like "Car &
Driver" and "Road & Track"; they seem to focus exclusively on "Iron".
Any suggestions for rags that might be interested in the human side of
racing?
Mike
|
| 200.40 | pittalk | OASS::BURDEN_D | He's no fun, he fell right over | Tue Oct 29 1991 16:17 | 6 |
| Send it to PitTalk for starters and SportsCar as well. It probably won't
be published in SportsCar unless it gets chopped down into the 3rd person,
but they actually pay $$ for stories they publish. I've been getting
rally stories published in SportsCar for 2 years now.
Dave
|
| 200.41 | Keep up the good work, on the track and in the notes | CRATE::RUTTER | The Joy Of Six(es) | Wed Oct 30 1991 09:21 | 14 |
| I agree with Mark's comments, these write-ups are great.
I really enjoy reading them through, you actually give the reader
a lot of feel for what it must be like out there on the track.
� -< Hummmmm; Any suggestions? >-
If you don't get these published in any 'glossy' mags, do you have
some form of club mag which might print them ?
I hope you have kept copies of all your entries, together they
will show a good story of your season's activities.
J.R.
|
| 200.42 | | ALIEN::MCCULLEY | RSX Pro | Wed Oct 30 1991 12:04 | 5 |
| I'd wonder if you might try some non-automotive magazine that might be
interested in the subjective account for the human interest.
I agree that the writing quality merits wider exposure. Give it a
shot, and good luck!
|
| 200.43 | | SASE::J_EVANS | | Wed Oct 30 1991 12:49 | 6 |
| Mike,
The workers knew how cold your tires were.. cuz WE were cold... :-)
jim e
|
| 200.44 | How do you remember it all? | VANTEN::MITCHELLD | Network Consultant | Thu Oct 31 1991 08:02 | 2 |
| After a race I have difficulty remembering what happened?
some form of chemical erasure....
|
| 200.45 | Well, if you MUST know... | SOLVIT::MCOX | | Thu Oct 31 1991 09:14 | 32 |
| I hate to rat on myself, but...
You're absolutely right. When the session (qualifying or race) is
over, my mind is full of images and recollections all scrambled
together in a vivid but disordered collage. I can't clearly remember
whether something happened on lap 2 or lap 6. I can usually jot down
the key moments a day or two later, and that is all I need to recall
the images I need to build the story. Sometimes it takes an effort to
recall which car did what, too.
I decided when I wrote my first story that it would be nice to get
all the details precise, but for me it was more important that I
capture the essence of the experience, and at least most of the major
incidents. The minor details I sprinkle in with some artistic license
(e.g. Glancing at the tach at turn 10 on lap 2. It may really have
happened on lap 4 at turn 9.)
When I'm done, I ask myself: "Is this close enough to carry away with
me as my lasting memory of the event?" If it is, I print it.
Oh, BTW...
This past race, I had a big advantage. Bjorn Zetterlund, an occasional
noter and fellow 2002 pilot, brought his video camera along and filmed
both the qualifying session and the race. Seeing the laps unfold made
it SO much easier to recall what happened, and who was involved.
Thanks Bjorn.
Mike (#1 driver for the "Flatspot Racing Team")
|
| 200.46 | | NEWOA::SAXBY | Aye. When I were a lad.... | Thu Oct 31 1991 09:37 | 9 |
| � This past race, I had a big advantage. Bjorn Zetterlund, an occasional
� noter and fellow 2002 pilot, brought his video camera along and filmed
� both the qualifying session and the race. Seeing the laps unfold made
� it SO much easier to recall what happened, and who was involved.
Of course Welcomequote Video Services could record your races for a
suitable fee, Derek! :^)
Mark
|
| 200.47 | | JETSAM::WHITNEY | | Thu Oct 31 1991 13:21 | 14 |
| Mike,
I also thought that was good and I was there! You did look good. I
try to pay attention to fellow DECies if I can that are racing. I was
in 8 all day. I can vouch for the cold tires. It was freezing on the
hill all day. One of theses days I'll come down to your pit and
introduce myself. Next year. Maybe we'll have a ride too! Do they
let motorcycles on the track? Only kidding!
From reading your note that was great. I watched the race but it was
more exciting this time around. It would be fun listening to you on a
radio talking about what you see and hear.
We'll be there next year.
Scott
|
| 200.48 | Thanks for a great year!! | WILKIE::PLATT | | Wed Nov 06 1991 08:32 | 9 |
| Now that the season has wound to a close, I'd like to take the time to
thank all the noters (who can pass it along to other folks) who work
Timing and Scoring, Flagging & Communications, Gridding, et al. This
comes from not only me, as crew for EP Elva #40, but also the driver
Peter Symonds (NERRC EP champ).
THANKS FOLKS FOR A GREAT YEAR -- YOU HELPED MAKE OUR CHAMPIONSHIP
POSSIBLE!!
|
| 200.49 | | SASE::J_EVANS | | Wed Nov 06 1991 10:22 | 10 |
| Barb,
Thanks. If you don't mind, I'll pass that message onto the NER Worker
Forum next Thursday night.
I'll take this time to say THANKS to the drivers and crew who show up
at the after-race party, and to those who were able to provide "worker
goodies" for the worker raffles all year long. We really appreciate it.
jim e
|
| 200.50 | no problem | WILKIE::PLATT | | Wed Nov 06 1991 10:57 | 4 |
| Nope, don't mind at all. In fact, I'd sure appreciate it. None of you
folks get the recognition you deserve from the drivers and crews. If
Peter and I can help out in any way -- give us a buzz
|
| 200.51 | | SASE::J_EVANS | | Thu Nov 07 1991 08:49 | 5 |
| Barb,
Thanks. I'll keep Peter and you in mind.
jim e
|
| 200.52 | Thanks for the support | NYTP11::JANKOWITZ | Ready the lifeboats | Thu Nov 07 1991 10:17 | 5 |
| You can add my thanks too. I could never take for granted that all of those
people are out there helping me. It's easy to see that if it weren't for
all of the people out there supporting us there would be no racing.
I really appreciate it.
|
| 200.53 | | SASE::J_EVANS | | Thu Nov 07 1991 13:10 | 4 |
| Thanks. Will do.
jim e
|
| 200.54 | An acceptable start of season | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Twisty little passages all alike | Mon Jun 29 1992 12:50 | 176 |
| Well, it sure was nice of DEC to give us these notebook computers. If it
wasn't for that, I wouldn't have been able to sit in my hotel room last
night and finish preparing for a demo I had to give this morning. It
also would mean that I wouldn't be finishing this story while I sat here
in my chair, with the sun setting over the mountains off to my left and
Seneca Lake down in the valley in front of me. This is Watkins Glen and
I'm here for the third race of this season. Sorry, but this is the
write up for the first race which I haven't been able to finish until
now. I should be able to catch up by Christmas!
Finally, the start of a new racing season.I performed the
annual/semi-annual ritual rebuilding of the engine. Since there were
only 2 races since the last rebuild, there wasn't a lot of wear evident.
Still, it can't hurt to put new rings and bearings in. Having the
entire winter to do the rebuild means that it still doesn't get
completed until the last minute. It was back together just in time for
the ritual Lime Rock test day before the first race.
The test day went ok. No problems with the car, just a rusty driver. My
times were slow all day long. It was a battle to get the times into the
mid 57 second range. I couldn't figure out where I was going so slowly
but figured some more track time would help.
On to the race. The first practice session went about the same as the
test day. I was still slow. Again, fighting to get into the mid 57's.
Other cars were going much faster so it wasn't in the track. I'd have to
work on that. After the first session, I took the fiberglass off and
cleaned and checked everything. Everything looked fine.
Thankfully, the qualifying session was long. I was driving my heart out.
I'd have the car sliding to the edge of the track, pushing as hard as I
thought possible lap after lap. I'd come around and look at my pit
board and the times would still be slow. I started to think about each
turn. How was I braking, turning in and exiting? I had thought there
wasn't more than a tenth of a second left out there but I was over a
second slower than last year.
Down the front straight in fourth, ease off the gas, onto the brake,
turn right toward the first apex in Big Bend, double clutch downshift
into 2nd then gently back on the gas as the car slides toward the first
apex. As the car slides past the first apex, modulate the gas to get it
turned back into the second apex. As it starts to point back in,
squeeze the gas back to the floor, slide past the apex and out to the
dirt on the outside of the track. Foot still on the floor, head back
3/4 of the way to the right of the track. Brake gently and turn late
into the left hander. I can't hold the car out as long as I'd like which
means I am not going to be set up well for the next right hander which
has to be taken flat out. The car slides out to the bumpy edge of the
track and it can take some nerve to keep your foot on the floor as the
car understeers out to the edge. A quick shift up to third now as the
engine climbs through 6500 rpm. Up Noname Straight keeping to the left.
Hit the brakes, put my foot back on the gas and turn right into the
Climbing Turn. The car slides up through the turn and onto the hill. As
it peaks the crest of the hill, the rear wheels spin and the car dances
left and right before straightening out toward the next turn. Even
though the car is loose at the top of the hill, there is still a foot
of track left when the car straightens out. Intimidating as it seems,
there is still time to gain here. Now into the right hand turn, West
Bend. Ease on the brake, back on the gas and turn right. The tire wall
grows as I again slide out toward the dirt and the car jumps around on
the bumps at the edge of the track. The tires stop sliding whithin a
few inches of the edge of the track. The track drops away under the
bridge and I do a slow shift up to fourth at 6000 rpm. With my foot on
the floor, I turn into the right hand turn onto the front straight. The
car hits the bottom of the hill with a loud scrape as various pieces of
aluminum and bolts scrape themselves on the ground. The car bounces and
slides accross the bumpy track towards the dirt and tire walls. Once
again, the tires catch just as I get to the edge of the track on the
front straight. I've done 15 laps, but realize that there is time to
gain in the Climbing Turn. The next lap, I use less brake going into
the turn. In the next 10 laps, I work my way down to just a lift before
going into the turn. Now I'm using the whole track and the times show
it. My qualifying time is a 56.2 which puts me 6th on the grid for the
start. It also gives me my spot as the first non-Swift.
When I came back in, we noticed that the back of the car was coated with
trans fluid. I knew that the trans input seal was bad and had a new one
in the tool box. Changing the input seal at the track wasn't my idea
of a good time. I spent the evening trying to figure out if it would be
ok for the race or should I change it. My race was the last one of the
day on Saturday so I would have the entire day to do the work.
Saturday morning, I opened up the trans filler plug and realized that
there wasn't a lot of fluid left. I didn't want to chance running the
trans dry and ruining it during the race. At 9:00am, off comes the
fiberglass, disconnect the brake and clutch lines, the shift linkage,
the rain light. Now remove the dozen or so bolts holding the rear
suspension and transmission on and pull it all away from the engine.
After a couple of hours, I could use a right angle screwdriver to
remove the old seal. The new seal is installed and the whole process is
reversed. By 3:00pm, the car is just about together. Just bleed the
clutch and brakes and I'm ready for my race. No problem. I have an hour
to spare.
I line up in 6th place in class and 9th overall. The pole winning
Continental ran laps 5 seconds quicker than me. In a 30 lap race that
means he may lap me 3 times! I'll keep my eyes open. We go around on the
pace lap and I work on warming my tires. Since my tires have one race
from last year and a full test day on them, I have to do a good job
warming them up. Everyone else around me has new tires. It seems like
everyone else is buying one set per event! As we come down the hill, the
leader is crawling. I have my left foot on the clutch and my right foot
on the gas to keep the engine running. Since I don't use 1st gear here,
I've intentionally left the tall first gear from Summit Point in the
transmission. On the start this should give me a jump on the field. The
green flag comes out and I pass the car in front of me on the inside, as
we go down the front straight. I'm still not aggresive enough in tight
traffic and lose a couple of positions in the next two turns. One car
would pull to my inside, forcing me wide. Since I'm off line I have to
go slower. The car behind the one making the pass goes to the inside
right behind the car on my inside. I could shut the door like Alesi did
to Berger two races ago, but I want to finish the race. I lose two more
places. On the next lap, someone tries to go to my inside in the left
hander. I stay wide which slows me down but keep in front of him. He
tries again going into the right hander going onto the back straight.
I'm frustrated because I know I am quicker than these people and they
are going to get in front of me and hold me up. I stay out one car width
in the right hander so I don't hit him. Again, this slows me down. He
comes along side of me and then slides out. I give him a little more
room but he ends up sliding out into me. His left rear hits my right
front with a jolt. He goes sideways in front of me. I move to the right
and see him go off the track on the left. The car feels ok going up the
back straight but is it really? I don't have time to find out. I start
driving and work on catching the cars that got by me.
I work my way up. There are two cars in from of me now. I sit behind for
too many laps as they battle back and forth. A couple of times I think
they are going to take each other out but they somehow avoid it. I'm
quicker than both of them but I'm a little gun shy after my last
incident. Going down the front straight, the one car drives down the
inside of the track so you can't get by. I go to the outside and inch
past him but it's not a good line and I can't turn into the first turn.
I back off and get back in line. Now, a car loses a wheel in front of
me going into the Climbing Turn, spins and stops as he hits the
guardrailat the edge of the track. I know they aren't going to leave a
car here! A full course yellow comes out and the field bunches back
behind the leaders and the pace car. After a few laps, the car is
cleaned up and I expect the race to restart in one or two laps. We come
around, passed the start/finish line and I don't see the starter
motioning that we will restart on the next lap. As we come around the
next time though, the green flag comes out. Since I haven't been
warming my tires on the last lap, I can't get a good jump at the
restart. Again, I begin working on the cars in front of me.Every lap,
the car in front of me goes down the inside of the front straight to
keep me from passing. Finally, I drop back a little going down the hill
and hold a tighter line onto the front straight. I pull to the inside of
him running almost on the grass as he comes over to try to keep me from
passing. This time I have the inside line into the first turn and
there's no way he's going to keep me back. I pull ahead and set my
sights on the next car up. I quickly catch him but again, I don't know
him and am hesitant to pass. I am all over him going into the Climbing
Turn but don't feel safe trying to pass him there. We are running laps
in the 57 second range and I could easily run 56's right now. I'm
frustrated that I can't get by. Each lap, I try to get a good jump on
him down the hill. I will try to draft him down the front straight and
out brake him into Big Bend. I'm inches away as we go down the hill,
his back end gets wildly loose as we hit the bump at the bottom and I
think he's going to lose it and take me out. I back off and lose a
little ground. I easily catch him again before the end of the lap. Now,
I try to stay back and come onto the front straight faster. That isn't
working either. For the rest of the race, I try different lines but
can't get enough of a jump to pass him at the end of the front straight.
I finish the race out like this ending up 6th, inches behind him. It
should have been an easy 5th. I still have to work on passing and I
have to be more aggressive at the start. Well, it's something to work on
at the next race. Luckily, that bump in the beginning of the race
didn't do any damage to my suspension.
I'll have to get to the other write ups later. The sun has gone down
behind the mountains. All that's left is an orange hue that's fading
and taking the warmth with it. I hope that this weekend brings better
luck than last. Last week at Summit Point was (of course) a long story
in itself.
Glenn
|
| 200.55 | I mean, last years race... | NYTP05::JANKOWITZ | Twisty little passages all alike | Tue Aug 17 1993 15:39 | 104 |
| This has been a little quiet for the last year. I actually did write
up most of my races last year but they are all sitting on my laptop
and never made it this far. I haven't written anything yet this year
even though I am most likely done for the season. Anyway, here is what
I have on my laptop about the second race of last season.
It hasn't been too long since I wrote anything in here has it? Yes, I
am still alive, I do still have a race car and I do still work for
DEC. Let's see, the last thing I wrote was about the first race of the
season. I did a bunch of other races but it wasn't a very
good season. In fact, it was the worst season I've had since I started
racing. How bad was it?????
My second race was at Summit Point in West Virginia. This was the
second time at that track and I knew that it would be a good place to
have a fresh set of tires. First thing Saturday morning, my brother
and I took the wheels off to bring to the Goodyear man. When I took
the left front wheel off, there was a LARGE crack running completely
through the brake rotor. It is fairly simple to change but since
rotors are heavy parts as opposed to light parts, I don't carry my
spares with me. After asking every single Formula Ford driver and
several other car drivers, I found two that were close to mine.
Neither one was an exact fit. One would need drilling to fit and the
other had alignment holes which were slightly larger than mine. I
borrowed the second one and installed it. I got out for the first
qualifying session and my time was slower than I expected to run. The
temperature was getting warmer though so the afternoon session held
some promise.
After we came in, the person who had lent me the rotor came back. He
had just taken the corner off his car and now needed the rotor back.
We removed the rotor, gave it back and borrowed the other one. After
drilling out the alignment holes on that one, it fit perfectly. I'd
just do a couple of slow laps to make sure it was ok. While we had the
car apart, I noticed a mounting bracket at the back of the car, which
supports the rear body work was broken. It was made out of a piece of
stamped metal so I could just make another one. After I found someone
who had a suitable piece of metal, (I didn't bring any of that
either), a new bracket was fabricated. No problem!
I went out for the second qualifying session and took a couple of
laps, came in and everything looked fine. I went back out and started
to work on getting my times down. The car wasn't handling great but
there was still plenty of time I could shave off. After a few more
laps, I came down the front straight, 6200 rpm in fourth gear, braked
hard, downshifted to first and turned right into the sweeping 180
degree turn. I hit the apex, foot back on the gas and started drifting
out to the left. I shifted into second still exiting the turn, when I
heard a slight noise. Right then, my right front wheel departed the
car! It hit the side of the car and flew up in the air. I watched it
go just over my right shoulder. It came down hitting the tail of the
car. Being in a right hand turn at the time was pretty handy in this
situation. I eased my foot off the gas and let the car slow down. When
I slowed down enough, I pulled the car off onto the grass on the left
side of the track and slid to a stop. I sat at the flag station and
watched most of the qualifying session go by while I needed to be out
improving my times. My wheel however was nowhere in sight. People were
pointing to different spots in the dense brush and woods where they
thought the tire went flying in.
After the session was over, the flaggers helped me look for the wheel
(and new tire) until the flatbed came. We hadn't found the wheel yet.
I did have a spare wheel at least. I used a nylon strap to hold the
right fron corner off the ground as the car was winched onto the
flatbed. The cable went from the floor of the flatbed up over the tail
of the car to the rollbar. When the car was most of the way on the
truck I looked up to see the cable pulling down on the tail of the
car. The mounting for the fiberglass was torn out of the body. More
work to do. So, why did the wheel come off? When I got back to the
paddock area, I looked at the spindle and noticed that the threads
from the nut were still on the spindle. The nut had just sheard off.
After all of the qualifying was over for the day, my brother and I
went out and wondered through the trees and pricker bushes hoping to
find the wheel before the sun went down. Everyone said it was
traveling fairly quickly when it went into the woods. We wondered
around for a while before I found it burried in a bush virtually
unscratched. I put it back and looked over the reset of the car. A
piece of radiator hose had a slice in it. We replaced the hose, added
more fluid and waited for the race the next day.
The race started with the usual scramble and confusion. My plan was to
get my times down and work on moving up as far as I could. I stayed
with the cars in front of me for the first two laps. Coming out of the
first turn on the third lap, the car three in front of me slid wide
into the grass on the left and then came right accross the track. The
two cars in front of me went to the right to avoid him and I went to
the left. Since the car was going accross the track from left to
right, he ended up directly in front of them and I went by all three
of them. That felt good. But now I'd have to work hard to either stay
there or move up further. After two more laps though it didn't matter.
The car felt like it lost some power as I headed up the short straight
towards the front straight. I glanced down at the guages. The oil and
water temperature guages were both pegged. I switched the engine off
and coasted into the pits, race over! I just hoped I hadn't ruined the
engine by not noticing it sooner.
After getting home, I looked the car over. The overheating was caused
by not bleeding the radiator when we replaced the hose. There was an
air pocket in the top of the radiator.
So much for Summit Point. Maybe things would be better at Watkins Glen
in a couple of weeks.
|
| 200.56 | Now we're talking 2 years old | 33656::JANKOWITZ | Twisty little passages all alike | Fri Jul 01 1994 10:38 | 90 |
| Today is my last day at Digital. I only have some small cleaning up to
do so I thought I'd pull this write up off the laptop where it's been
since I wrote it in September '92!
I went to Watkins Glen two days early. I had a demo to give to a
customer on Thursday in Corning N.Y. which just happens to be a half
hour from the track. I took friday off and told my brother I'd help
him with his Atlantic during the Friday test session. I was planning
on spending my spare time on Friday changing my gears from the Summit
Point gears which were still in the transmission.
The Bush Grand National cars were going around the track on Thursday
when I got there so I sat outside the fence and watched them finish up
their afternoon. After they left, I went for a walk around the track
to see the new chicane on the back straight. The chicane didn't look
too wonderful. About 3/4 of the way down the back straight, there is
now a rectangular excursion on the right side of the track. The
curbing was very high all the way around and the exit pointed the cars
right into the guardrail on the outside of the track. From what I was
able to hear, the Grand National drivers didn't like the chicane at
all. Supposedly, there were several big accidents at the chicane
during their testing. The rumor was that we wouldn't be using it and
that it would be re-designed before the next race.
I had everything with me to change my gears and thought it would be a
leasurly job in between my brotheres sessions on Friday. My brother's
day didn't go too well though. He put his Atlantic into the guardrail
and took out the right rear suspension in the first session. Ouch! He
didn't have enough spares to put it back together so he began talking
to the other drivers. Since his car had a wide track rear suspension,
nobody else had all of the necessary parts needed to fix it. He made a
quick call to California and ordered the parts for overnite delivery
to the track. Hopefully, he'd get them early enough in the morning so
he wouldn't miss the qualifying sessions on Saturday. In the mean
time, I changed the gears in my transmission and got ready for
Saturday.
I went out in the first session and the car felt ok at first. I began
working on getting my times down. After about 10 laps, I was coming
through the left hand turn out of "The Boot" when the car seemed to
lose some power. I wasn't sure if it was in my mind or not, so I tried
to decide whether I should pull into the pits or keep going. Within a
second the car started missing and there was a clunk in the engine. I
shut the car off and coasted through the next two turns into the pits.
I checked the compression and one cylinder was dead. Hopefully, I
would pull the rocker cover off and find somthing simple broken inside
like a valve spring. Then I'd just have to take the head off and fix
it. No problem. I took the rocker cover off and realized that it
wasn't simple. It appeard that the valve tappet had broken down inside
the engine. If I could find someone that had one, it would mean
spending the whole night taking the engine out and apart to fix it.
After talking to virtually everyone who may have had a tappet which
would fit I figured I was lucky that nobody had the part.
My brother's suspension parts were delivered by 1:00pm so I helped him
get his car together for the last qualifying session. I decided that
I'd take off that night and spend the next day taking the engine apart
to find the problem.
When I took the engine apart, it was worse than expected. The tappet
had broken when the thrust bearing had worn into the side of the
crankshaft and created enough of a gap to fall out. It then got stuck
between the case and the tappet and broke the bottom off. The parts
list went from a set of tappets to:
a set of tappets, a crankshaft, a camshaft and a full set of bearings.
That meant a big dent in my racing budget. There was only one problem.
Nobody had any crankshafts. It seems that Ford Motorsports had run out
of them and they were on back order from England. Every racing supply
source in the U.S. was out of them! I was spared by one of the local
engine builders who had a re-conditioned crankshaft he would sell me.
That also meant I was able to cut a couple of hundred dollars off the
cost, and rebuild the engine for under a thousand dollars.
Meanwhile, my tires which were new at Summit Point sat virtually
unused on the car. I would see how long it would take to get the car
back together. That would decide what my next race would be. There was
another Lime Rock race the following weekend, another Watkins Glen
race and then a double National race at Pocono. Lime Rock was out of
the question. I went to Lime Rock to help my brother. It also was a
convenient place to pick up my reconditioned crankshaft.
I had the engine back together in time for the next Watkins Glen race.
After putting the engine back in the car, I noticed another very
upsetting sight. The transmission case was cracked where the lower
rear suspension bolts go through it. Some quick calls around, and I
had a transmission case on order from Texas. I called and cancelled my
entry for the Watkins Glen race. I guess I was going to race at Pocono
this year after all.
|