Oct 2011 - Back to The Glen

                                                     Back to The Glen

           Watkins Glen has been a special place for me since my first PCA 48 Hours event back in the ‘70’s. We used to drag the Speedster or the 914 out on a single axle trailer behind a VW pop top camper for a long weekend. We would camp at the track and have bonfires and beer parties well into the night. I think the people that owned the track went home at dark and just trusted us not to burn down the few buildings that were there. Only one year did we feel flush enough to rent a motel room down in the village.

           This year the SVRA race weekend at The Glen agreed with our summer schedule and so I called my co driver, Rob in Phoenix, to see if he wanted to go. He was more excited than I expected and the explanation was an eye opener. He was 8 years old the last time we went and he remembered it well. I seems that when the track closed at night and we were partying with friends he and his sister were out there on their bicycles having their own races. Who knew? A chance to drive it in a race car? Couldn’t wait.

            I remembered that in a tool box drawer where I keep old stickers and other important documents was a patch from one of the Glen events that was still in the original plastic wrapper.

The patch from all those years ago

I found it easily and sewed it on my driving suit. It did have a 1979 date on it but at least I could prove that I had been there and knew my way around. Of course that was long before the Bus Stop was put in at the end of the back straight and all the wire catch fencing had been replaced with Armco barriers.

           Vic and Barbara Skirmants were bringing a couple of cars including number 32, the red 356 coupe that we had run at Sebring. They also brought an engine that I needed for another project so I counted the drive as a business trip.  

           Rob flew the red eye from Phoenix into Boston and we drove west into a major rainstorm on that Wednesday. The Tom Tom GPS said that the quickest way was through Binghamton NY but that was not accounting for the 9” of rain they were getting that day. We got tossed off Interstate 88 due to flooding and after two hours of the scenic route we were back on course.  As we picked up speed along side the Susquehanna River it was amazing to watch lawn chairs, picnic tables, and old tires traveling as fast as we were. I’ve seen lots of TV clips of flood areas but until you’ve watched peoples lives float pass, the power of water never really hits you.

           Thursday morning practice was on a very wet track so I had a chance to recover the files from all those years ago before I had to really test the capability of the Tub. Good thing too, as I hate to look stupid early in the morning. Rob’s practice brought him times much lower that mine but the track was now dry and he had spent days with a video game that uses the track at the Glen. The car was now an old friend and it was easy to run it hard without worry but Rob’s video advantage put him high on the qualifying list with a lot of the veterans. When the flag dropped on his race he was in the top half of the pack of 40 cars, right where all the action was. His clean finish in the top ten was a great job for someone who had done more laps on his bicycle than in a race car.  

Waiting to go

            His practice times had helped put me up on the grid for the Friday race but a thick fog kept us in the pits until almost noon. When the corner workers can’t see to the next station the track is closed and the fog was that thick. The delay caused the qualifying race to be changed to another practice session so I didn’t cost us any grid spots for the Sunday Enduro since Rob’s times were used. I was only two seconds behind him but they take the fastest driver’s time to line them up at the start.

            Besides the actual racing I would have to say that the high light of the weekend was the Festival in the town of Watkins Glen. The town is only 2100 people but boy do they know how to throw a party.

            Until 1952 the races, including many Formula 1 races, were held on a 6.6 mile course that was set up on the city streets. The climax of a week’s celebration of racing is an invitation to the competitors to drive their race cars on the original course. This year 130 cars drove the 3 miles from the track with a police escort into town to join the party.

Lined up on the street for all to see

The main street was blocked off and the cars lined both sides for all the people to see. They had car shows, cook outs, displays, bands, you name it, if it was car related it was there. The town swelled to at least three times its normal size and they were all glad to have us there. After about an hour of people taking pictures and little kids getting in and out of the race cars it was time to fire them up and roar out of town.

             I had driven #32 in so Rob drove it out and had a great time waving at all the people that were lining the road. He said that it was like winning the Indy 500 the way everyone was cheering.

             The race cars have no lights and we couldn’t be out after dark so after returning the race car to the track we drove back into town to the International Motor racing Research Center of Watkins Glen to watch a movie about Jim Clark, a racing driver from days gone by, at a reception put on with our Grand Marshal Bob  Sharp of Datsun fame. It was a great time and many of the drivers that I had read about back in college were there in the flesh.  Some I would race alongside of them in the Enduro on Sunday.

             We didn’t stay out very late since our race the next day was in the morning and the little town got real quiet after about 9 o’clock. They didn’t roll up the sidewalks but they could’ve.

             The Enduro was exciting as 38 cars lined up on the grid and many I had seen in magazines like Car and Driver and Autoweek many years ago. I was gridded next to Bob Leitzinger driving his Datsun 510 that helped put that car on the map. There was a 914/6 from Brumos Porsche and a Ford GT40 that ran at LeMans, boy could they make the ground shake.

              The flag dropped after a pace lap and I got the drop on Bob in the 510 and lead him up the hill. His qualifying time was 5 seconds under mine so it only a matter of time before he went by on the back straight. After having a beer in his pit the night before, I felt like we were old racing buddies. After he was gone I got into a battle with a Lotus 7 that went on for many laps. It took a few laps to find where he was faster than me and vice versa. He was slow into the Bus Stop but could come out of the Toe of the Boot faster than I could. These are two different parts of the track with very different characteristics. We must’ve passed each other twice a lap for ten laps.


Coming by the Lotus

 Great fun, especially since I eventually pulled away from him and he finished behind us. And his qualifying time was two seconds faster than mine.

               I was in for the mandatory pit stop and Rob took over with no drama since we didn’t need to refuel. He timed the 5 minute stop just right with a stop watch that we had on the dashboard.

The rewards of a great finish

His steady driving kept us in place and we finished with a best ever, second place. Great work from the codriver. This was with the pressure of being reminded by Vic that the car was needed next month at the Rennsport Reunion in California. We needed to be careful not to run off course and bend it or break it because there wouldn’t be time to repair it. I think that with the pedal down hard and another car right on your back bumper concern like that just fade away.

             Another great job by Vic and Barbara and all the friends who helped crew, checking tire pressures and timing laps. We had such a great time that I felt like we should start thanking our sponsors like they do on NASCAR. Can’t wait to do it all again at Sebring next year. KTF

             

Nov 2011 - Crash

                             Crash

            Some stories are easier to tell than others. As much as I try to make these tales entertaining sometimes they just get to technical and I know that I lose my audience. Columns that cover the races that I attend put some readers to sleep because they just can’t put themselves in a 50 year old speeding car. My idea of fun is rummaging through boxes of parts or walking through junkyards searching for overlooked treasures. Sometimes those discoveries make great stories.

             Because of the years that I have done this column even friends will say “I see a column coming” when I tell them about things that happen with the cars I own or see.  As I face difficult situations, whether car related or not, I always think about the story I’ll have to tell when it’s over. This is one of those stories.

             As most know I have been working on a ’57 356 Sunroof coupe for the last five years doing a total restoration. While I don’t do metal or paint work, I enjoy taking things apart and putting them back together. This one owner car is a match to my Speedster and have taken the time to really do it right as I intend to show the car when it’s done. A few missing parts delayed the schedule this year so the shows season went by without me but It was finally completed before the leaves began to turn.

             The last challenge was the gear shift linkage that didn’t want to give me more that two gears at a time. As I adjusted the gear lever I could only get 1^st and 3^rd when I moved the base back or 2^nd and 4^th  when I moved the base forward. I took the cover plate off the floor that allowed access to what we call the monkey motion linkage to find that there was no safety wire holding the locator bolt in place. That was the first clue, without that bolt the shifter was never going to find all the gears at once, there was too much stuff moving around. Getting that in place and moving the shifter around to test it was a contest because the seats were in place and it was tough to reach around them. The new, factory correct, headrests are so big the reaching over the seats would require arms a lot longer that I have. Finally in place, bolted down and safety wired everything worked great.

               Now that all the systems worked the final touch was to drive the car back over to the Bob Lundell who painted it back in 2009 for a final buffing. With a Porsche Club gathering coming up the following Sunday I made arrangements to take the Puddle Jumper to Hansen, MA on a Tuesday morning so that I could catch a commuter rail train into work  and leave the car for a couple of days. The weather forecast checked out, no rain, and I made an appointment to stop by my dentist which was on the way to review some work he had done. I always like to do more that one task at a time, besides the car was running great and I was really beginning to enjoy it.

               I noticed on an early shake down ride, before the engine came out to look at the clutch, that the newly upholstered seats were so high that my head rubbed on the sunroof. My first Porsche was a sunroof coupe and while I’m tall, I never had a headroom problem. Since the seats had been restored I figured that just some time in the seat would solve that so to speed up the process I put a 50 lb bag of cement in a couple of heavy plastic bags and in less than a month I fit right in like it was made for my backside. This ride was starting to feel really good.

Ready for it's final buffing

              Early on that Tuesday morning I was buzzing down Rt 128 to Rt 3 south and having a great time. Lots of waves and thumbs up and it was the morning rush hour. And I knew that it was going to look even better after the final buffing.

              I parked at the far end of the dentist lot, you can’t be too safe with a restored 54 year old car. As I was leaving a fellow, who was coming in for the day, walked over to ask a few questions and tell me how good it looked.  I buckled up my seat belt, put my cell phone in my pocket and started to the exit. I was about five parking places from the curb, moving about 3 mph, looking straight ahead at the street when I heard a noise and felt the car moving to the left. I looked to the right to find the entire window covered by the back of a Jeep Laredo.  I never saw it coming. Everything stopped quickly and I was out of the car as the driver pulled back into the parking spot causing additional damage as the hitch ripped a hole coming out of the rear fender where it had lodged.

The wounded Tub

             The driver of the jeep, a guy about my age, did what we all do from time to time. Parked between a minivan and a full sized car, he backed out to take a look for traffic. The trouble was that the Tub was too low to be seen in the inside mirror and he hadn’t checked the side mirrors. I actually wasn’t struck by the car but by the extended trailer hitch that he uses to move his horse trailer. 

          The jeep never came in contact with the Puddle Jumper just the hitch. It pushed in the door, then punched a hole in the front of the rear fender, bounced off the tire, hubcap, and rim and then stopped behind the back of the tire inside the rear portion of the fender. Pulling forward that final two feet left another gash in that old German steel.

The work of a trailer hitch

             We stood there a moment looking at the damage thinking that maybe it was a mirage and would go away if we waited. The other driver felt terrible as he walked around the car and realized what had happened. He was an Austin Healey guy and knew the work that had gone into the wounded Tub before him. We called the local police, exchanged information and since it was driveable and I wasn’t far from the body shop where it had spent so much time, off I went to see Bob as planned.

             The last time the car was there it was an empty, abet shiny, shell. As I pulled into the shop Bob was standing on the left and saw the completed car from its best side. He was smiling and clapping with his thumbs up when I stopped and told him that I didn’t think he needed to get the buffer out just yet. As he walked around the car to the passenger side I could see his face drop. I think he took it worse than I did. His work was damaged but he quickly added that he could fix it up like new. I told him that it was new as it now had 28 miles on it.

              A call to Hagerty Insurance, a collector car insurance company that covers my car, was made when I got to the office and the process was put in motion. They made it easy, now I know why they’re the best. The other driver had already called before I got in to apologize again alerting the staff that it was going to be a tough day.

              Now a few weeks have passed and I’m reminded again, as I was that day, that it’s just a car and cars can be fixed. The checks have been cashed, the dents have been repaired and a complete repaint is coming soon. There really isn’t an easy place to stop once the paint starts going on. So it’s tail lights out, bumpers off, windows out, etc. It just takes a little time but this time I’m not doing the work. Bob is as much a detail person as I am, maybe more, so I know that the Puddle Jumper will look new again soon. My Fall driving plans will be put off until Spring, a setback, but not the end of the world.  

              Besides, now I have this great story to tell that is sure to end well. KTF

Dec 2011 - Blackie's Photo Shoot

                 Blackie's Photo Shoot

               Now that the days are short and the weather cold, it’s nice to look back at the summer and recall the car season that we had. In addition to the races, car shows and tours, I was invited to participate in a photo shoot. I had been asked before but always declined because of the stories that I’d heard about damaged cars and reluctant insurance companies. Those jeans that are made with big shiny rivets look good on a models backside but leave long straight lines through the paint as they slide off the fenders.

               One year Filenes called looking for a red convertible but compensation amounted to a discount coupon on future purchases and no assurances of any sort of insurance coverage so I stayed at home. 

               This year the Northeast Region of the Porsche Club was called by an agent looking for a small black convertible and they were pointed in my direction. I wasn’t really interested until I learned that it was a combined photo shoot for Ralph Lauren and  L’Oreal. Since I was familiar with the Ralph Lauren collection of fine cars my interest was peaked. At least enough to listen to the details. The event was to take place at a private estate on the beach in Duxbury, last for two days and they would have lots of food and a check at the end. A small collection of cars was to be used for display only and the entire event was fully insured by a well known company in New York that required proof of my own insurance and value. Two days off in the summer to watch models at the beach? I was up for that before they even got to the part about the check.

               I have to admit that I am not the biggest fan of the advertising industry in this country. While I will be the first to agree that they are very good at what they do, I believe that persuading consumers to buy products that they don’t need is something less than a job that I would want. The models never looked like regular people to me as they were pictured in strange settings at strange angles. Besides I could never figure out why they commanded the big ticket income for just standing around. Boy, was I in for an education.  

               I drove to Duxbury during the morning rush hour and had a great time making a lot of noise and returning waves to people on their way to work. I stopped about a mile short of my destination to get a coffee as I figured that there wouldn’t be much in a guys back yard to carry me to lunchtime. Wrong again.

               The first tip off was the police detail at the driveway to the photo location. Pleasant local fellows that were having a great time stopping traffic to let workers and models cross the street. They were coming from a large parking area that included one of those portable bathrooms like you see at Pebble Beach. The ones with the steel steps, marble floors and air conditioning. The kind that makes your bathroom at home look like a port-a-john. You get the idea.

              Turning left onto the property I was directed past a large barn onto a mowed field that extended to the ocean.

Actually the ocean was about ½ mile away with an extended pier that had a very large sailboat (as in three masts) moored to the end. The field was so large that the owner had started a good sized vineyard in the middle that looked lost. I parked the Speedster near the back of the barn next to a new Aston Martin convertible and ’52 Ford pickup.

              I walked over to the barn where a group was standing to discover that the entire inside of the barn had been transformed to the best café in town. With my cheap paper cup in hand I stepped into what could have been the Sunday Brunch at the Ritz Carlton. There were bowls of fruit, hot muffins, six different kinds of cereal, four different flavors of coffee and even desserts, for breakfast. Turned out that this was just the snack bar as there was an entire “base camp” set up on the grounds of the local middle school that looked like the Barnum and Bailey circus had come to town. They had all that and two omelet stations, a Belgium waffle chef and cloth covered tables under a huge air conditioned tent big enough to land a small plane inside. I wouldn’t see that until lunch but everyone kept saying, wait until dinner.

              That first day the morning was spent filming both action and stills on the boat at the end of the pier. That gave those of us with vintage rides a chance to talk and to ask questions of the veterans who had done this before. The couple with the pickup had worked on sets of this size before and went to some lengths to tell us what to expect. They had only good things to say about the crews that they had worked with and had never had any problems. A ’67 Dodge Duster (in purple of course) and a ’62 Triumph TR3B in Arrest Me Red made up the rest of the group, and the people were as varied as the cars they drove. The Aston was driven down from a Boston dealership by one of the mechanics. The Triumph was trailered  from a restoration shop in New Hampshire, but the owner of the Duster never appeared. The crew just pushed the Duster on and off the set along with a new BMW F800 ST motorcycle. Rumor was that the bike dealer didn’t trust anyone to drive it and they didn’t want to hang around all day.  

               I learned a few things about the business that came as a real surprise. First, the people that are modeling the clothes are not models, they are talents. Not boy talents or girl talents, just talents.

These were certainly young folks, in fact one talent was accompanied by his mother who he asked to stay out of sight. Second, there is a lot more to having your picture taken that just standing there. Some of these sessions were action shots for TV spots where four talents at a time were told to run to the camera from about 20 yards out into a fan that would blow the clothing into the air. Then they would walk back and do it again, and again, and again. Like maybe 15 times before the director was happy with the result. He was a bearded Santa Claus type with a big smile that didn’t seem to slow down even after ten hours of work.  He really loved what he was doing. I was told that he was the best of the best but the name was lost on me, that was way outside my area of expertise.  

              There was a big white tent set up with tables and chairs to look like a garden party, lots of people sized pillows to lay across and even skydivers that swooped in wearing bright colors. When they hit the ground the talents replaced them before the chutes even hit the ground to continue the shot. When the kids spun around and looked into the cameras, you would swear that they had  done the jump. No computed tricks here just a lot of hard work.

              One of the talents was to drive the Speedster slowly up to the garden party tent with a girl in the passenger seat. Turns out he was from Germany, spending the summer in the US between semesters and had an old beetle at home to get around town in. His English was better than my German but I told him to just drive it like it was his and he did a great job.

             This was actually a lot of work, not for me but for the crew and all the talents. There were probably 25 talents and 50 crew. They had people that just walked around making sure that everyone had enough water to drink. Of course there were some that spent all day applying makeup on both boys and girls. There were tents full of clothing for quick changes staffed by crew to help.

             Between shots as things were being set up the talents would find a football or Frisbee and suddenly everyone was playing, the energy was amazing. Everyone was having a great time.

             I spent two full days there and in all that time never came across anyone with a bad attitude. When I mentioned that to one of the crew told me that there were attitudes there but they were well under control. I had pictured directors yelling at cameramen and makeup people screaming at each other but there was none of that. In fact there was one thing that I noticed that was a real surprise.

             I have always faulted the younger generation for not paying attention to things around them and always leaving a mess wherever they go. I was shocked to realize that everyone seemed to be part of the team on the location. Nobody, young or old, talent or crew, ever walked past a piece of trash without stopping to pick it up. Every where you went there was someone with a smile or a friendly wave. I never felt that I was in the way in spite of not doing anything to help. Well, I did roll the BMW motorcycle down the hill because I was the only one that could put both feet on the ground when seated. Someone else pushed it back up the hill. They all seemed to be there to help each other out, I was very impressed.  

             I was told that this was an exceptional group of people working for an exceptional company but I have to believe that based on what I saw those two days, the advertising business is a lot nicer that what I had believed and that makes me feel a lot better. It’s really nice to have a positive surprise about people at my age. KTF

        

January 2012 - Preparing for a Long Winter's Nap

               The Holidays are behind us and the cars are all tucked in for the winter season, it should be a terrific spring considering the way that everyone was tucked in this year.   

The BMW Club had their Concourse hurricaned out back in August and the rain date was set for the end of October. With nothing going on that Sunday I figured that I would clean up Big Red and take a drive over. I have attended a number of their shows but never parked a car on the grass at one. They don’t ever have many six series cars from the “80’s and it didn’t take much to clean it up. There were a couple of little things that needed attention anyway, like the drivers door lock tumbler cover. It had popped off a couple of years before and it needed to be replaced. The center console that I had made years ago was loose and needed to be secured, the trunk hadn’t been vacuumed out since spring and it had made a lot of dump runs.   

 The rules all say that cars should be waxed and cleaned before winter storage but somehow I never seem to get to it. I’m probably not the only one that cleans cars when they come out of the barn, right?  Waxing and wheel cleaning only took a few evenings and the dog and I were able to spend some quality time together in the garage. I was all set to make a big splash at the show when they started talking about a snow storm before Halloween. Sure enough a surprise storm hit hard that Sunday and their next show will be in 2012. Well, I had a bright red car ready for storage.                               

The Puddle Jumper (’57 Sunroof Coupe) was repaired in short order after that chance meeting with the back of a Jeep in a parking lot. The damage was almost into five figures but the insurance company had the payment in my hand before the accident report had been mailed into the DMV. Turned out that both insurance companies, Commerce and Hagerty, use the same appraiser and the guy’s a car nut that doesn’t disagree with himself. The shine off the five coats of hand rubbed clear coat was so bright I needed sunglasses. Since I needed to go over to pick up the car in Hanson MA I came up with a great plan.                    

 I’m the guy that says that cars should be driven and that paint is cheap relative to other car expenses but I’d never gotten around to following my own advice. I’d been driving the Speedster every summer since ’99 when it was repainted for the PCA Parade and bugs, sand and road rash had taken their toll on the finish on the front. Black magic marker can only do so much and the hood looked like a teenager with a skin problem. Since black is black and the can of paint was already open I figured that I would drop off Blackie when I picked up the coupe. When finished I would have my two shiny bookends ready for a winter nap together and would only have to roll them out in the spring.        

    The Puddle Jumper didn’t want to start when I arrived as the battery was flat due what would turn out to be a bad voltage regulator but after a while on the charger it was ready for the one hour drive home. It was about that time I remembered that the brake lights didn’t work. That only meant that I needed to pull out the light switch when it was time to stop. The cars behind would see the lights and not knowing tail lights from brake lights, would have fair warning. Worked just fine all the way home. Another evening project to put on the list and besides I hadn’t hooked up the horns yet so I would have my head under the dash anyway.                   

After a few evenings in the garage everything worked as it should. Horns were loud enough to make the dog bark upstairs and the lights were all operative. There was some drama as while installing the horn relay as I somehow disconnected the headlight wire that supplies power to the high beam foot switch. Remember those? To find the problem I removed the headlight switch on the dash first since they sometimes fail but it was fine. Then I pulled up the cocoa mats, the floor mat and the plywood floorboards. After disconnecting the throttle rod from the gas pedal of course. With everything apart the test light couldn’t find any power anywhere. As I traced the wire across the back of the dash (while upside down – I’m getting too old for this) it lead to the harness behind the relays where I could see two wires near each other but not connected. Plugged together the headlights were back in action but I had wires hanging and parts all over the place. It only took an hour to put everything back where it belonged. Too bad I didn’t spot those wires first. Good thing these old cars are simple to fix, not easy but simple, at least for me.              

 In just a week the paint was done, an Outlaw feature was added to the engine cover (a new grill screen) and Blackie was ready to come home. All that was left now was to get some decent weather to make the ride home in the Speedster bearable since the convertible top was still up in the attic where it has been for the last 12 years. I picked a Tuesday based on the Boston weatherman on channel 4 who was expecting something approaching fifty degrees. I should know better, they are the only people around with a less than 40% success rate that still have their job. As the temps struggled to reach the low forties I donned the old helmet with the ear flaps, two sweaters and a coat, winter gloves and off I went. I didn’t get as many thumbs up as usual but I definitely got some stares. Everyone, especially car guys, know these old cars are all supposed to be in the barn by now.         

Now everything is tucked in for the season and while I do have a project for Blackie (coming to a column soon) all the toys are as clean as they have ever been and ready for the 2012 driving season. Maybe it will come early next year. KTF 

September 2008 - Tubs at Mid Ohio Race Track

           Driving somebody else’s race car is always a bit of a challenge. Especially when it's a 46 year old Porsche. That's the challenge that I faced as I ran Vic Skirmants 356 around the Mid Ohio track for the first time back in June. It was my weekend rental and I certainly didn't want to bend it as I was on the hook for any damage. Engine damage from an overrev or bad shift would also show up in my loss column. I didn't want to appear slow but at the same time caution told me not to try to set any lap records.   

           The red coupe had been lightened down to only 1710 lbs and the engine was putting out 165 hp. In addition to that the transmission had been reworked to be more suitable on the race track where first gear was never really used. First had been replaced with a second gear cog and the remaining three were spaced closer together so that the engine didn't drop off the power band on up shifts. Vic said that the power came on at about 5000 rpm and would pull strong until 7500 rpm. Anything under 4500 rpm was a 'waste of time".

            That engine speed discussion reminded me of my very first ride in a Speedster. The owner was John Ames who was a student like me at the University of Maryland. John is now out in the Denver area and his name has been all over the SCCA Solo II record books over the last 45 years. He continues to autocross to this day. He was going to show me how much faster his car was than my VW. As we roared around on the campus roads in first gear impressing everyone, I asked him what engine speed should be maintained. He said,”just keep it in the red area and it'll be fine".

           An engine in a street car had a 4500 rpm redline that went to 5000rpm and could be used gently all the way down to 1500 rpm. That's a much different animal than the noisy orange beast that I tried to get out of the pits onto the track. I stalled it twice in spite of lots of practice over the years in temperamental rides. With no first gear and an engine that didn't produce any power until it sounded like the throttle was jammed wide open, this was not a car that wanted to be treated gently.

            With a lot of drama I got the car down to the false grid, an area where the next race group gathers and looks each other over. It was also a time to tighten seat belts, fasten the Hans Device to my helmet and wonder how I got there. This first run was one of two practice sessions and the lap times would determine the starting order the following day for the qualifying race. Once the finishing order was established in the qualifying session, the actual feature race was the last day. Between the two races was an Endurance Race that was basically an hour and a half of driving as fast as you possibly can with a mandatory 5 minute pit stop in the middle. I had never hammered a car for that long but it seemed doable.

             I got the car out onto the track without anyone realizing that I didn’t know what I was doing but the car just didn’t want to take off when I stepped on the gas. It would sputter and kick something awful before finally clearing its throat and taking off. Downshifts going into lower gears were not a problem but because the way the gearing was set up, coming out of the slower turns with any kind of acceleration was tough. At the end of the twenty minute session I told Vic that the car was handling great but it was running terrible. He had been listening to the car as I went around the course and at two turns where I drove around in second gear he said that I should be in first. I hadn’t come to grips with the fact that first gear was actually second gear in this car.  After all the years of driving my brain just wouldn’t allow my hand to push the gearshift lever into first gear at 50 mph.  A street driven 356 runs out of breath in first gear at about 15 mph.  I went out in the next sessino, talked to myself out loud and downshifting into first gear, transformed the car.  It pulled out of the turns like a train and never had so much as a hiccup.  This was a race car.

             The car was geared perfect for the back straight as it would pull to 7200 rpm in fourth gear which my math told me was 140 mph. And remember this was a 46 year old car. The brakes were terrific with never a hint of fading. They were solid discs from a 356 C and had no trouble slowing the car time after time, lap after lap.

            

      I was starting to get some confidence in my abilities as I hustled the tub around the course with my lap times putting me 24th out of the 37 cars in my group. At least I wasn’t going to be last. I did expect to be ahead of one of the other 356 drivers who were in Vic’s group because he was 78 years old but I just couldn’t keep up with him. That gives me some hope that I can do this at least for a while.

             Just before the qualifying race the next day the H production buzz bombs, Sprites, Bugeyes, and MG’, were out on the track and we were on the false grid when the skies opened and, as they say in Texas, produced a “real frog strangler”. It rained so hard that the race before us was stopped as the tow trucks went out to drag the little buggers back in after the track turned into a river. Most of the British cars were open with no tops and you could see the water running out of them like a bathtub without a stopper. We sat for a while as the storm blew by, as it tends to do in the Midwest, and after about 20 minutes followed the pace car out to see how it looked. My car was a coupe and I was nice and dry with a windshield between me and the car ahead throwing up spray. Many of the other drivers weren’t as lucky as the water ran up their hoods and into their faces. The course was wet but the cross track rivers had subsided so they dropped the flag and off we went. I have always enjoyed driving in the rain. It takes a lighter touch and you have to be really smooth, like driving out on the ice on Newfound Lake in NH. And you know how much I enjoy that event every year. This was ice racing all over again, except it was June and 85 degrees.

             Like ice racing, traction is an all important element in racing. In addition to other Porsches, I was running with MGB’s, Elva’s, Lotus Super 7’s, and other front engine rear wheel drive cars that just didn’t have the traction that the 356 had with it’s engine over the drive wheels. Coming out of turns on wet pavement I could just step on the gas and be gone, they would do the same but get wheel spin. I don’t think that I passed as many on the track as I did alongside the track as many cars spun in the wet and went off in the grass. The little 356 I drove seemed to like the light foot that I used and never got out of sorts at all. At the end of the 10 lap race I had moved up to 12 th overall and would start the race the next day with a lot of faster cars behind me. I mentioned that to Vic and he said that it wouldn’t be a problem, just watch my mirrors. Like I didn’t have enough to do already.

                The day concluded with a great cookout that Barbara put on for the bunch of us, and anyone else that was standing around the pits. The ever present jar of cashew nuts, lots of beer, beef, and potato salad made for plenty for all. It was a great time reliving the qualifying run as the sun sank into the Ohio hills, just like a rear race car driver.

                 Next month we’ll see if the weather is still in my corner as the Endurance race and the Feature Event see the starter’s flag. As a hint, it rains a lot in Ohio in the summer but it never lasts long. KTF      

July 2008 - The Costs of Gas

                         The Costs of Gas    

You would think that those of us that play with cars would be sensitive to the rising cost of gasoline. From all indications that’s not true. I'd guess that it's the same as a skier facing higher priced lift tickets or a Dressage rider finding the price of feed going up. You just do what you have to do to keep enjoying your chosen sport.

              When we were younger the cost of a gallon of gas certainly figured into our daily budget but in a different way than it does today. I know that is going to sound like the dark ages but when I was peddling my first VW beetle around while in college there was no such thing as a credit card. Think about that for a minute. If you were going to buy anything from a candy bar to a dinner to a tank of gas, you had to have the cash in your pocket. I grant you that it would’ve been less cash than today but you still needed cash.

              There were no ATM’s and no gas station would take a check. With gas in the 30-45 cent range I can remember taking out the bottom of the back seat in the beetle looking for change.

              My Bug was a ‘58 and didn’t come with a gas gauge. What we had was a reserve tank and a lever inside the passenger compartment to access it. Actually there was a turned up rod that went through the firewall just above the gas pedal that went to the fuelcock at the bottom of the gas tank. When the engine started to sputter as it ran out of gas all the driver had to do was push the lever to the right with their foot and the gas began to flow from the reserve tank. To say that it had a reserve tank was to give VW way too much credit. The gas line into the bottom of the tank had two drain points on it. The hole at the top was used as the “regular tank” the drain hole at the bottom was the “reserve tank”. To read the owners manual a new owner would believe there was one regular tank and one reserve tank.

               By just keeping track of the odometer the driver could easily avoid using the reserve tank. The VW's didn't have a trip odometer, that was reserved for the really expensive cars like Porsches. With nothing but a Sapphire AM radio that wasn't much good outside of the city limits there wasn't much else to do but math problems in your head anyway. Even driving like a teenager the beetle would get 30 mpg so a tank of gas was good for a week of racing about. On a trip from Florida to Maryland following my brother, who was towing a U haul trailer behind a '59 Bonneville, the bug got over 50 mpg. Somehow that didn't seem important at the time.

               By the time the first gas crunch was upon us in 1973 I was working at a Porsche Audi dealership in Boston. The worst Audi we sold got 30 mpg and every day Oldsmobiles and Caddys would roll into the lot looking to trade. With so much Detroit iron being traded it wasn't long before the wholesalers stopped bidding. When asked the value of a trade we just asked the owner how much gas was in it or how much it weighed. And that was when gas had just broken through $1.00.

               We even had stickers to put in the back windows of the 914's that said "Save Gas in Style". I guess we just liked to rub it in back in those days.

               Reading an article recently about the pressure that the gas prices had brought to owners to trade for a more efficient ride I sat down to do a little math of my own.  Using the national average of 12,000 miles per year I calculated the difference between a car that got 20 mpg and an SUV that got 15 mpg. It turns out that the difference translates into one Mint Moca Chip Frappuccino with a Doubleshot each day at Starbucks. About $25 per week. Just think, if you gave up those coffee breaks you could keep driving those SUV's. Besides their trade in value has dropped like an anvil in a swamp anyway and it's too big to use as a doghouse. Looking at the difference between a regular gas model and a Hybird the trade in logic is even harder to follow. Given the price difference in the Toyota Corolla line a new owner would have to drive over 185,000 miles to recover the premium paid for the Hybird. But they keep adding their name to the waiting list. Why not just go buy a good used 914 or 356 and have some fun and save gas too. You won't have to tie up your retirement funds to do it either.

               But week after week more and more people trudge down to a local dealer trying to put a windup toy in their driveway. Maybe they just can't give up that Mint Mocha whatever. Or maybe it's just 1973 all over again.

               In spite of the rising prices at the pump, the driver's schools are full and the Autocrosses well attended. Our members even drive for hours towing cars just to get to far away race tracks. One of the more popular shows on the Speed channel is Pinks, where hundreds of drag racers show up to blow through a tank of gas in an effort to be on TV  and maybe lose their car. Go figure.

              As much as we complain about the cost, it sure doesn't seem to get us to take our foot off the gas pedal. It takes a little more that some change under the back seat to get us home but we don't care.The good news is the the old bathtubs that I drive do almost as well as that VW from years ago. I guess I can still run it around and make a lot of noise just like a teenager. Besides I drink all my coffee at home.

June 2008 Out for the Summer Season

     Winter is just a memory now that the sun is back, the grass is green and the fun cars are back on the road. We had only one ice race this year courtesy of the BMW Club due to an unusually warm and wet season. The Audi RS4 served me well as it showed the four wheel drive class the fastest way around the course at Newfoundland Lake in NH. Now it’s resting back in the rear of the garage while the summer cars are near the door.

       The snow tires are all put away on the tire rack. One of my winter projects was to lower that tire rack to make it more accessible. When I installed the rack years ago I was young and swinging a tire and rim up over my head seemed easy. To get a tire and rim up onto the rack I had to put it there with my arms fully extended. That was the easy part. It was getting them down that always made me a little nervous. I had to push the tire up from the center to get it to roll off the rack on either side. Which side I aimed for was dependant upon what car was parked under the rack. The last couple of years I’ve stood on an upturned milk crate to get a little more advantage on the lift but that always seemed a little precarious. If I lost balance and had to take a step back in could spell disaster. I’m at that point in my life where I always consider “what’s the worst thing that can happen” whenever I attempt something physical. I never gave that a thought when I was younger but now that the recovery time for head gashes, pulled muscles and banged up shins are a lot longer, I mentally walk through the effects of gravity and balance each time they come into play. Nowadays that happens often. I have first hand knowledge of how an afternoon can be wasted in the local Emergency room and I don’t want that to happen again. Lowering the rack was just a simple trip to the local hardware store where I bought some bolt connectors and threaded shafts.  The bolt connectors are just a piece of metal tube that has threads inside that will hold two threaded shafts together. I cut the shafts I bought into fourteen inch lengths and used them to lower the rack by the same amount. I measured carefully to make sure that the rack, with tires in it, would not contact my head when I walked under it. That alone proves that I’m getting smarter with age. It hangs down from a steel I beam in the middle of the garage and I walk under it often. See reference to gashed head above. With that done I won’t have to work so hard next fall to get the ice tires off the rack.  

            Big Red (the ’85 BMW M6 in Cinnabar Red) is out of the barn and is already waking up the neighbors when I go off to the train station each morning. Actually it wasn’t stored in my garage but at my friend Bill’s place. He’s the fellow that had the ’53 Caddy in that space until we found a buyer in Texas that wanted to add a car to his collection that hadn’t moved in forty years. I knew that the BMW was coming out and with the space available I decided that it would the perfect spot for the Toyota Four Runner that we use as a plow. The words “use as a plow” is a stretch as I will explain. I put the M6 battery on a charger for a night and when I hooked it up and turned the key it sprang to life. Even Bill liked the noise from the stainless steel exhaust as it filled the barn with a low growl like a Saturn rocket leaving the launch pad. I just love cars that can talk back.

        Last year this time, after a mild winter, I had driven the Plow back into the woods behind the house and parked it to wait for winter. Bad idea. Of course I put some gas stabilizer in the tank, added air to the tires and threw some moth balls under the truck to keep the varmints away. That wasn’t enough to protect it. When it came time to fire it up last fall it was a struggle. It started and came out of the woods but that was as far as it wanted to go. I poked around a bit and found the Mouse Hilton in the glove box (that’s right above where the engine computer is mounted) and the vacation cottage that they had started building in the air cleaner. The engine would start but when gas was applied it would die. I found some intake hoses that looked to be older that dirt and some wiring that looked frayed but nothing seemed to help. It was parked outside and getting cold at night and I wasn’t really inspired to get after the problem. I’m used to working inside with lots of light, heat and music. Working outside in the late fall was like the way we worked on cars back in college but it didn’t seem like as much fun as I remembered.

           The days were getting shorter, snow was coming and my German car experience was having no effect on the rice burner. I hauled it over to a local garage that claimed that they could make anything run. After a few days with no results I called because I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to clear my driveway without it. The owner said not to worry, they had been busy and hadn’t gotten to it but if it snowed he would plow the driveway for free. My kind of guy. Now there was no reason to bug them about bringing it back to life, so I didn’t. I was set for winter. Sure enough, three storms, three free plowings. What a country. They chased a few electrical things including the computer but it turned out to be the air intake modulator unit that a mouse had jammed inside and had burned out a sensor. It came back home in April. That tells me that field storage is no good for cars even if it’s summer.

            Knowing that Big Red was due to come out soon, I called Bill and got his OK to fill the space for the summer. I guess that means that he’ll get free plowing next winter, it’s the least that I can do.  

            Driving the lightly used Plow over to the barn, I had a little chat explaining that I would be back in the fall and what I expected when the time came. It’s the same discussion that I have with any car when I put it away. It gives them something to look forward to. Something that we all need don’t you think?