Last winter I purchased a used race engine from someone getting out of the Formula Ford class after a minor incident (another car landed on top of him). When my engine oil pressure dropped last summer, I was tempted to put this engine in, but he had stressed to me that it was tired and needed to be rebuilt before I ran it. I stripped it and took the block and crank to the machine shop to get it checked. Good thing, too. The center main bearing saddle is cracked.
To say that I am disappointed would be an understatement. Broke-busted-disgusted would be closer to the truth. But at least I can be pretty sure this one wasn’t my fault.
In his defense, the seller made no promises or claims except to warn me that it was due for a rebuild. The engine ran – very well, according to everyone who saw it – when he parked it in 2003. I am absolutely certain that he never knew or suspected it was cracked. His asking price was less than what I thought the engine was worth, so I pounced.
I had high hopes for that engine. I hadn’t decided whether to use it as the spare or the primary engine, but the plan was to have one running engine in the car and a second ready to bolt in at the first sign of trouble or loss of power.
If this cloud has a silver lining, it’s that I will be spending far less this winter than I thought. The crankshaft from this engine is good enough to put in the other engine, and I won’t have to buy a second set of bearings, piston rings, and gaskets. On the other hand, that "savings" was spent on the cracked block.
If it is possible (and not ill-advised) to repair this block, I will definitely do it. These engines are no longer made, and good used blocks are rare. The theoretical "too expensive to be worth fixing" threshold is pretty high on this one.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Friday, December 23, 2005
Racing Checklists
The king of racecar preparation, the late Carroll Smith, once said, “Life without checklists is chaos.” It took me a while to learn that. When I started racing, checklists seemed to be overkill. I recently realized that the racers I admired -- the people with immaculately clean cars that always finished every session (usually toward the front) and never panicked -- all used checklists. Now I swear by them instead of at them. A while ago I promised all you insomniacs a rundown of my now-famous racing checklists. Here are some of the things I've learned about making and using them. Brush your teeth, put on your PJs, and get yourself tucked in.
First, we need to agree that a race car is a complex assembly of fragile parts held together by fasteners that loosen in response to the vibrations of the racing engine. Every session, the engine does its best to shake the car apart while the driver does his best to break it. By the end of a session, something (oftentimes many somethings) will be loose, missing, broken, about to break, worn out, out of adjustment, leaking, burned, or boiled away. If you finish a session and nothing falls into one of those categories, you probably didn't go fast enough.
The constant stress and strain on the car means that dozens of different things need to be checked every time the car comes off the track. In addition to checking all of those things, you also need to add fuel, reset the tire pressures, make any necessary adjustments, and get yourself ready for the next session. It's pretty much impossible to remember all of that every time. Without a checklist, something is bound to be forgotten. That's the fundamental reason behind checklists.
Checklists never forget what needs to be done. Checklists also tell you at a glance what has already been checked so you don't waste time checking it again. Good checklists can create an ongoing record of maintenance and repairs. Checklists also make it easier to delegate work to other people on the crew so that you can take a break. And the best part is the peace of mind you can enjoy while sitting on the grid, knowing that your car is fully prepared for the session.
On the other hand, checklists can't do the maintenance for you. The most detailed checklist does you no good sitting in a desk drawer. Checklists should never, ever be used to assign blame when something goes wrong! The crew should initial when a job is done instead of just checking it off, but that should only be used for things like tracking down the missing 1/2" wrench and knowing who to ask just how far that adjuster nut had backed off. It's also easy to look at a simple checkmark and think to yourself, "I don't remember doing that... what else did I check off without really doing it?"
My own checklists have evolved from a note pinned to my shirt ("Fill Gas!") to a one-page list of jobs to do between sessions (the "Track" list) and a two-page list of jobs to do between race weekends (the "Garage" list). Jobs have been added and deleted, leading to very personal lists tailored to my particular car. The Track list includes items that need attention after every session to keep disaster at bay: Check the critical fasteners, check the fluids, bleed the brakes. The Garage list includes jobs that aren’t easily done at the track: Check the rest of the fasteners, change the fluids, and change the brake pads. All of the items on the Track list are also on the Garage list.
Since my car is water-cooled, "Bleed Radiator" and "Check Water Level" are on both lists. Since it has disc brakes, "Adjust Brake Shoes" is not. The fasteners which are more prone to loosening on my particular car also appear on the Track list. The fasteners which do not frequently come loose are on the Garage list. If they develop the habit of loosening, they are moved to the Track list. If they establish a stable history, they may be moved to the Garage list.
The checklists are organized to allow a good flow of work. The jobs are arranged by chronological order, grouped by physical area, and grouped by similarity to each other.
When I say chronological order, I mean that I want to be able to start almost as soon as the car comes off the track and go down the list without skipping a job because those parts are still too hot to touch. For example, "Check Exhaust Header Bolts" is at the end of the list, after the engine has had a chance to cool off. The very last jobs are setting tire pressures (which could change if the car sits too long in the sun) and pushing the car to the grid.
The jobs are also arranged into areas to try to prevent running laps around the car. For example, the jobs at the rear of the car (checking the rear axle CV joint bolts, checking the rear brake pads, and checking the gearbox for leaks) are together so that you can do them all while you're back there. To be honest, that type of grouping hasn't been entirely successful, because so many jobs require going from one end of the car to the other anyway. Still, checking the rear brake pads should be done between checking the rear CV joints and checking the gearbox, not between checking the front brake pads and the brake fluid level -- which are both at the front of the car.
By similar jobs I mean jobs requiring the same tools. Grouping these jobs together can save a few trips running back and forth to the toolbox, but it can also reduce the chances of two people fighting over tools. For instance, if one person checks all of the critical Allen-head bolts, then he won't be waiting for someone else to finish with the Allen wrench set before he can start. The alternative is to bring a second set of those wrenches to the track, which ties up more money, weighs down the tow rig, and takes extra space in the toolbox. On the other hand, if you're fortunate enough to have a dozen crew members, or if you bring a spare car to the track, then by all means bring a second set of tools.
Next to each job is a box to be initialed when the job is complete. After each job is a space for notes or comments. For example, in the space next to "Add Fuel" you would record how much fuel was added. If you find any worn rod ends, you would note which ones in the space next to "Check Rod Ends." You can also add specifications for torque or clearance next to their respective jobs. The required torque value is printed in the field next to "Torque Lug Nuts," and the ignition timing is printed next to "Check Ignition Timing." Those specifications are added to the sheet before it is printed, so they are always available without having to look them up elsewhere.
If I can figure out a way to post an Excel spreadsheet, I'll put my checklists up here. Otherwise, feel free to ask for them -- just post a request with your email address as a comment. I'll send you both documents via email and then delete your address so you won't get spammed. Copy them, change them as you need, use them as you like, give them to your friends and competitors. I claim no copyright on them, but I also disclaim any responsibility for them or for you. You have to work with them to make them work for you. Use the principles I outlined above to make them fit your program.
First, we need to agree that a race car is a complex assembly of fragile parts held together by fasteners that loosen in response to the vibrations of the racing engine. Every session, the engine does its best to shake the car apart while the driver does his best to break it. By the end of a session, something (oftentimes many somethings) will be loose, missing, broken, about to break, worn out, out of adjustment, leaking, burned, or boiled away. If you finish a session and nothing falls into one of those categories, you probably didn't go fast enough.
The constant stress and strain on the car means that dozens of different things need to be checked every time the car comes off the track. In addition to checking all of those things, you also need to add fuel, reset the tire pressures, make any necessary adjustments, and get yourself ready for the next session. It's pretty much impossible to remember all of that every time. Without a checklist, something is bound to be forgotten. That's the fundamental reason behind checklists.
Checklists never forget what needs to be done. Checklists also tell you at a glance what has already been checked so you don't waste time checking it again. Good checklists can create an ongoing record of maintenance and repairs. Checklists also make it easier to delegate work to other people on the crew so that you can take a break. And the best part is the peace of mind you can enjoy while sitting on the grid, knowing that your car is fully prepared for the session.
On the other hand, checklists can't do the maintenance for you. The most detailed checklist does you no good sitting in a desk drawer. Checklists should never, ever be used to assign blame when something goes wrong! The crew should initial when a job is done instead of just checking it off, but that should only be used for things like tracking down the missing 1/2" wrench and knowing who to ask just how far that adjuster nut had backed off. It's also easy to look at a simple checkmark and think to yourself, "I don't remember doing that... what else did I check off without really doing it?"
My own checklists have evolved from a note pinned to my shirt ("Fill Gas!") to a one-page list of jobs to do between sessions (the "Track" list) and a two-page list of jobs to do between race weekends (the "Garage" list). Jobs have been added and deleted, leading to very personal lists tailored to my particular car. The Track list includes items that need attention after every session to keep disaster at bay: Check the critical fasteners, check the fluids, bleed the brakes. The Garage list includes jobs that aren’t easily done at the track: Check the rest of the fasteners, change the fluids, and change the brake pads. All of the items on the Track list are also on the Garage list.
Since my car is water-cooled, "Bleed Radiator" and "Check Water Level" are on both lists. Since it has disc brakes, "Adjust Brake Shoes" is not. The fasteners which are more prone to loosening on my particular car also appear on the Track list. The fasteners which do not frequently come loose are on the Garage list. If they develop the habit of loosening, they are moved to the Track list. If they establish a stable history, they may be moved to the Garage list.
The checklists are organized to allow a good flow of work. The jobs are arranged by chronological order, grouped by physical area, and grouped by similarity to each other.
When I say chronological order, I mean that I want to be able to start almost as soon as the car comes off the track and go down the list without skipping a job because those parts are still too hot to touch. For example, "Check Exhaust Header Bolts" is at the end of the list, after the engine has had a chance to cool off. The very last jobs are setting tire pressures (which could change if the car sits too long in the sun) and pushing the car to the grid.
The jobs are also arranged into areas to try to prevent running laps around the car. For example, the jobs at the rear of the car (checking the rear axle CV joint bolts, checking the rear brake pads, and checking the gearbox for leaks) are together so that you can do them all while you're back there. To be honest, that type of grouping hasn't been entirely successful, because so many jobs require going from one end of the car to the other anyway. Still, checking the rear brake pads should be done between checking the rear CV joints and checking the gearbox, not between checking the front brake pads and the brake fluid level -- which are both at the front of the car.
By similar jobs I mean jobs requiring the same tools. Grouping these jobs together can save a few trips running back and forth to the toolbox, but it can also reduce the chances of two people fighting over tools. For instance, if one person checks all of the critical Allen-head bolts, then he won't be waiting for someone else to finish with the Allen wrench set before he can start. The alternative is to bring a second set of those wrenches to the track, which ties up more money, weighs down the tow rig, and takes extra space in the toolbox. On the other hand, if you're fortunate enough to have a dozen crew members, or if you bring a spare car to the track, then by all means bring a second set of tools.
Next to each job is a box to be initialed when the job is complete. After each job is a space for notes or comments. For example, in the space next to "Add Fuel" you would record how much fuel was added. If you find any worn rod ends, you would note which ones in the space next to "Check Rod Ends." You can also add specifications for torque or clearance next to their respective jobs. The required torque value is printed in the field next to "Torque Lug Nuts," and the ignition timing is printed next to "Check Ignition Timing." Those specifications are added to the sheet before it is printed, so they are always available without having to look them up elsewhere.
If I can figure out a way to post an Excel spreadsheet, I'll put my checklists up here. Otherwise, feel free to ask for them -- just post a request with your email address as a comment. I'll send you both documents via email and then delete your address so you won't get spammed. Copy them, change them as you need, use them as you like, give them to your friends and competitors. I claim no copyright on them, but I also disclaim any responsibility for them or for you. You have to work with them to make them work for you. Use the principles I outlined above to make them fit your program.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
2006 Racing Schedule
Have I mentioned that I’m not a fan of snow and cold? I’m not. I would hibernate if I could. That is why so little has been happening in the garage this month, despite our current heat wave. It’s been in the high 30s the past couple of days, but the temperature is expected to drop again tomorrow.
So let’s pretend winter is over already and start thinking about next summer. Here is my not-very-tentative (and yet not quite firm) 2006 schedule. As I said before, racing schedules are always subject to change.
April 22-23 GingerMan (MI) SCCA National
April 29-30 Blackhawk (IL) SCCA National
May 13-14 Grattan (MI) SCCA National
May 20-21 Blackhawk (IL) SCCA National
May 27-28 Blackhawk (IL) MC Drivers’ School
June 3-4 Mid-Ohio (OH) SCCA National
June 24-25 Montreal (CAN) F1 Grand Prix Support Race
July 29-30 Nelson Ledges (OH) SCCA National
August 12-13 Grattan (MI) SCCA National
August 26-27 Montreal (CAN) CART Support Race
September 2-3 Nelson Ledges (OH) SCCA National
September 16-17 Blackhawk (IL) MC Drivers’ School
October 9-15 Topeka (KS) SCCA Runoffs
The Canadian organizers haven’t confirmed the two support races in Montreal. We also haven’t heard what rules they will use for those races, or if they would accept my license. It might be worth the 16 hour tow to race on the same weekend as F1 or CART, but I may find that I need to focus my energy and resources on the SCCA races instead. On the other hand, this could be my only opportunity to appear on their program. But I’d rather not postpone a promising SCCA season for the sake of one event that may not work out.
The Runoffs will depend on the points standings, as will the National races in Ohio in the second half of the season. The SCCA Runoffs is an invitation-only, “winner-take-all” race for the national championship. Only the top 10 drivers in each Division are invited, with each driver’s best 6 finishes counting towards the total. If I can earn enough points in the first four or five events, I may be able to relax the pace a bit. If I’m hopelessly far behind the top 10 by June, I probably won’t push too hard the rest of the season. And if that happens, then I won’t be attending the Runoffs.
Some other races that are on my “backup” calendar (if the budget allows, if other events fall through, etc) include an early April MC race at the Autobahn (good for a shakedown before the first National race), a June MC race on the Milwaukee Mile infield road course (and a Regional race there in September), and the June Sprints at Road America (on the same weekend as the Canadian Grand Prix).
I will have to miss the Central Division East-West Challenge series races race at Grattan on Memorial Day weekend because of the conflict with the Drivers’ School. The EWC Blackhawk race in July is unfortunately third on the list that weekend, behind the Classic Car Club of America’s Grand Classic event and a National race in Indianapolis. The EWC at Road America also conflicts with the Montreal CART race.
On a different subject, I plan to change the look of the site just a bit in the next week or two. Some people have reported that their browsers only show part of the page, so I need to adjust the size of the page. You may not even notice a difference.
So let’s pretend winter is over already and start thinking about next summer. Here is my not-very-tentative (and yet not quite firm) 2006 schedule. As I said before, racing schedules are always subject to change.
April 22-23 GingerMan (MI) SCCA National
April 29-30 Blackhawk (IL) SCCA National
May 13-14 Grattan (MI) SCCA National
May 20-21 Blackhawk (IL) SCCA National
May 27-28 Blackhawk (IL) MC Drivers’ School
June 3-4 Mid-Ohio (OH) SCCA National
June 24-25 Montreal (CAN) F1 Grand Prix Support Race
July 29-30 Nelson Ledges (OH) SCCA National
August 12-13 Grattan (MI) SCCA National
August 26-27 Montreal (CAN) CART Support Race
September 2-3 Nelson Ledges (OH) SCCA National
September 16-17 Blackhawk (IL) MC Drivers’ School
October 9-15 Topeka (KS) SCCA Runoffs
The Canadian organizers haven’t confirmed the two support races in Montreal. We also haven’t heard what rules they will use for those races, or if they would accept my license. It might be worth the 16 hour tow to race on the same weekend as F1 or CART, but I may find that I need to focus my energy and resources on the SCCA races instead. On the other hand, this could be my only opportunity to appear on their program. But I’d rather not postpone a promising SCCA season for the sake of one event that may not work out.
The Runoffs will depend on the points standings, as will the National races in Ohio in the second half of the season. The SCCA Runoffs is an invitation-only, “winner-take-all” race for the national championship. Only the top 10 drivers in each Division are invited, with each driver’s best 6 finishes counting towards the total. If I can earn enough points in the first four or five events, I may be able to relax the pace a bit. If I’m hopelessly far behind the top 10 by June, I probably won’t push too hard the rest of the season. And if that happens, then I won’t be attending the Runoffs.
Some other races that are on my “backup” calendar (if the budget allows, if other events fall through, etc) include an early April MC race at the Autobahn (good for a shakedown before the first National race), a June MC race on the Milwaukee Mile infield road course (and a Regional race there in September), and the June Sprints at Road America (on the same weekend as the Canadian Grand Prix).
I will have to miss the Central Division East-West Challenge series races race at Grattan on Memorial Day weekend because of the conflict with the Drivers’ School. The EWC Blackhawk race in July is unfortunately third on the list that weekend, behind the Classic Car Club of America’s Grand Classic event and a National race in Indianapolis. The EWC at Road America also conflicts with the Montreal CART race.
On a different subject, I plan to change the look of the site just a bit in the next week or two. Some people have reported that their browsers only show part of the page, so I need to adjust the size of the page. You may not even notice a difference.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Winter 2, Ambition 1
The weather hasn't eased off up here. On the other hand, there has been a little bit of progress, such as it is.
The replacement transmission arrived last Thursday. We took it to Lindstrand Motorsports for a once-over. Everything is in great shape, as advertised, and some internal parts even appear to be brand new! A big thank-you to Larry Oliver, who sold me the gearbox as well as a set of rear wheel hubs at a great price.
The engine block and crankshaft have been checked. The crank is bent. Boo hiss. But the block is not cracked -- big relief. The center main bearing bore did get moved out of alignment by the bent crank hammering against it, but the machine shop is confident that the alignment can be fixed.
The replacement transmission arrived last Thursday. We took it to Lindstrand Motorsports for a once-over. Everything is in great shape, as advertised, and some internal parts even appear to be brand new! A big thank-you to Larry Oliver, who sold me the gearbox as well as a set of rear wheel hubs at a great price.
The engine block and crankshaft have been checked. The crank is bent. Boo hiss. But the block is not cracked -- big relief. The center main bearing bore did get moved out of alignment by the bent crank hammering against it, but the machine shop is confident that the alignment can be fixed.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Winter 1, Ambition 0
I really wanted to work in the garage this week, I promise. But it is cold in Wisconsin right now. No, it isn't as cold as it will be soon, but it has once again dropped from "unseasonably warm" to "unseasonably cold" in record time. As in, last week was 50s with 10mph breezes; last night was 10 with 50mph winds. I'm just not ready for it.
I stayed inside and did paperwork instead. Thrilling, isn't it. But I'm very proud of my recordkeeping paperwork and organization. So proud, in fact, that I have to brag. Prepare to be bored.
For the past few seasons, I have kept a 3-ring binder of information about the car and the season. The binder is separated into sections for the Engine, Gearbox, Chassis / Suspension, Race Results, and Checklists. Each section has sheets of reference information, such as gear charts in the Gearbox section, and torque specs in the Engine section. Any new information is added to the appropriate section.
Each section also has a maintenance record sheet for each area. For example, there is a maintenance log for each engine; one for the gearbox, clutch, and drive axles; and one for the chassis and brakes. Any major maintenance or repair gets logged: date, what was done, and why.
Yes, you're right, that's crazy. But it makes it very easy to see when the oil was last changed, whether the CV joints are due for a rebuild, and how many races are on the rod end that just failed. And yes, I have had to know each of those things during the course of a season. But keeping these records will also help me learn the "service life" of each part. I should be better able to prevent failures without replacing healthy parts. And if nothing else, I'll be able to say without fear of contradiction, "That hub failed after only three races!" Yikes.
I've spent the last few evenings making a new binder for the 2006 season, consolidating and translating notes from the 2004 and 2005 binders, and making a new "Permanent Records" binder. This binder will keep a copy of all reference information (part numbers, chassis history, gear charts) as well as the consolidated setup notes, maintenance logs, and race results from past seasons.
A friend who also races made a new binder for me last year. He prefers to keep his records sorted by track. In his book, each track has its own section with track maps, local hotel information (very handy), car setup records, and driver notes. I do like the idea of being able to visit a track and see at a glance if I'm faster or slower than the last time I visited, how my time compares to the track record, and if I'm close to my best-ever time there. On the other hand, I don't change the setup from track to track, so organizing the car information this way didn't seem to make sense for me.
So I have kept the binder, but I've modified it a bit. Now each section has a track map, driver's notes, hotel information, and directions to the track, but the setup information has been replaced with a single sheet for track records and personal best times. Any changes to the setup are noted on the sheet next to the lap time they produced.
If you're still having trouble sleeping next week, I'll describe my famous racing checklists.
I stayed inside and did paperwork instead. Thrilling, isn't it. But I'm very proud of my recordkeeping paperwork and organization. So proud, in fact, that I have to brag. Prepare to be bored.
For the past few seasons, I have kept a 3-ring binder of information about the car and the season. The binder is separated into sections for the Engine, Gearbox, Chassis / Suspension, Race Results, and Checklists. Each section has sheets of reference information, such as gear charts in the Gearbox section, and torque specs in the Engine section. Any new information is added to the appropriate section.
Each section also has a maintenance record sheet for each area. For example, there is a maintenance log for each engine; one for the gearbox, clutch, and drive axles; and one for the chassis and brakes. Any major maintenance or repair gets logged: date, what was done, and why.
Yes, you're right, that's crazy. But it makes it very easy to see when the oil was last changed, whether the CV joints are due for a rebuild, and how many races are on the rod end that just failed. And yes, I have had to know each of those things during the course of a season. But keeping these records will also help me learn the "service life" of each part. I should be better able to prevent failures without replacing healthy parts. And if nothing else, I'll be able to say without fear of contradiction, "That hub failed after only three races!" Yikes.
I've spent the last few evenings making a new binder for the 2006 season, consolidating and translating notes from the 2004 and 2005 binders, and making a new "Permanent Records" binder. This binder will keep a copy of all reference information (part numbers, chassis history, gear charts) as well as the consolidated setup notes, maintenance logs, and race results from past seasons.
A friend who also races made a new binder for me last year. He prefers to keep his records sorted by track. In his book, each track has its own section with track maps, local hotel information (very handy), car setup records, and driver notes. I do like the idea of being able to visit a track and see at a glance if I'm faster or slower than the last time I visited, how my time compares to the track record, and if I'm close to my best-ever time there. On the other hand, I don't change the setup from track to track, so organizing the car information this way didn't seem to make sense for me.
So I have kept the binder, but I've modified it a bit. Now each section has a track map, driver's notes, hotel information, and directions to the track, but the setup information has been replaced with a single sheet for track records and personal best times. Any changes to the setup are noted on the sheet next to the lap time they produced.
If you're still having trouble sleeping next week, I'll describe my famous racing checklists.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Crack check
The crank and the block are at the machine shop for a full checkup. My father has convinced me that the garage method of checking crank straightness (described a few days ago) is just a rough check, and that the machine shop may find a very different measurement than I did when they use the proper set-up and measuring tools. The worst case scenario is that the crank is really bent, in which case we will know that we're not wasting money getting a new crank.
The suspense, once again, is killing me! My fingers are crossed.
Tonight is another garage straightening / chassis stripping / parts organizing night. The temperature is dropping, so I need to get as much of it done now as I can before I go into hibernation for the winter.
The suspense, once again, is killing me! My fingers are crossed.
Tonight is another garage straightening / chassis stripping / parts organizing night. The temperature is dropping, so I need to get as much of it done now as I can before I go into hibernation for the winter.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Caribou Coffee
Brace yourself for a post that has nothing to do with racing.
I'm not a big coffee drinker. I don't just mean that I can go a day without drinking ten cups. I can go ten days without one cup. I usually skip it completely during the racing season and indulge in a cup every once in a while during the winter. The thought of spending $5 a cup for coffee always struck me as a bit excessive. That some people drink one (or more) $5 cups of coffee every day just floors me.
A few weeks ago I was out and about with a friend who took me to a coffee shop called Caribou Coffee. Since I don't drink coffee for the flavor, I wanted something that wouldn't taste quite like coffee. The words "Turtle Mocha" stood out on the menu. I am a huge fan of Turtle (not the hard-shelled reptile, but that perfect marriage of chocolate, caramel, and nuts). Turtle is the ultimate flavor, the closest thing to heaven that your tongue will ever know. Yes, I like Turtle.
Yes, I ordered the Turtle Mocha. It was everything I expected. But that coffee shop was really something else. The employees were friendly without going overboard and hardworking without showboating. The entire atmosphere was warm and inviting. I was so impressed that I wished I drank more coffee than I do.
Last weekend, this same friend and I were out and about again, but not in the Caribou Coffee neighborhood. Instead we found ourselves entering the Caribou Competitor. You know the place I mean. There are at least two of them in your hometown. There are two in Kenosha for crying out loud, and there are only 95,000 people there!
We ordered our drinks (no Turtle on the menu, so I tearfully ordered a Caramel Mocha, the closest thing I could find) and I tipped generously, because the server almost made me feel like he was doing me a favor by taking my order. My friend's drink was up right away. I waited patiently. I watched two other patrons order, get their drinks, and leave. Finally I asked if I had missed mine. The server apologized and handed me something that looked like a sundae. A frozen drink? It's 40 degrees outside! Who would get an iced coffee in this weather? I was so disgusted I couldn't even argue. I just took it, walked out, and threw it away.
The next day, I decided that I still wanted the Turtle Mocha that I didn't get the day before, so I headed to Caribou Coffee. The server greeted me warmly and seemed genuinely happy to be helping me. The coffeeist prepared the drink quickly without rushing. I got the drink I ordered and was on my way in about a minute and a half. And that Turtle Mocha was delicious.
Yes, I am thankful that this is the biggest issue I have to write about right now. But I am so impressed by Caribou Coffee that I just have to tell everyone. The difference between them and their competition was staggering. I hope they come to Kenosha someday. If they do, there will eventually be two vacant buildings where certain other coffee shops used to be.
I stopped in at Caribou Coffee again this morning and encountered a different crew. They were just as friendly, but they were also so happy and energetic that I couldn't help but be in a great mood for the rest of the morning. And of course my order was ready in about a minute and a half, it was correct, and it was delicious.
Maybe if I drink more coffee, I'll get used to it again and my eyes will stop vibrating.
I'm not a big coffee drinker. I don't just mean that I can go a day without drinking ten cups. I can go ten days without one cup. I usually skip it completely during the racing season and indulge in a cup every once in a while during the winter. The thought of spending $5 a cup for coffee always struck me as a bit excessive. That some people drink one (or more) $5 cups of coffee every day just floors me.
A few weeks ago I was out and about with a friend who took me to a coffee shop called Caribou Coffee. Since I don't drink coffee for the flavor, I wanted something that wouldn't taste quite like coffee. The words "Turtle Mocha" stood out on the menu. I am a huge fan of Turtle (not the hard-shelled reptile, but that perfect marriage of chocolate, caramel, and nuts). Turtle is the ultimate flavor, the closest thing to heaven that your tongue will ever know. Yes, I like Turtle.
Yes, I ordered the Turtle Mocha. It was everything I expected. But that coffee shop was really something else. The employees were friendly without going overboard and hardworking without showboating. The entire atmosphere was warm and inviting. I was so impressed that I wished I drank more coffee than I do.
Last weekend, this same friend and I were out and about again, but not in the Caribou Coffee neighborhood. Instead we found ourselves entering the Caribou Competitor. You know the place I mean. There are at least two of them in your hometown. There are two in Kenosha for crying out loud, and there are only 95,000 people there!
We ordered our drinks (no Turtle on the menu, so I tearfully ordered a Caramel Mocha, the closest thing I could find) and I tipped generously, because the server almost made me feel like he was doing me a favor by taking my order. My friend's drink was up right away. I waited patiently. I watched two other patrons order, get their drinks, and leave. Finally I asked if I had missed mine. The server apologized and handed me something that looked like a sundae. A frozen drink? It's 40 degrees outside! Who would get an iced coffee in this weather? I was so disgusted I couldn't even argue. I just took it, walked out, and threw it away.
The next day, I decided that I still wanted the Turtle Mocha that I didn't get the day before, so I headed to Caribou Coffee. The server greeted me warmly and seemed genuinely happy to be helping me. The coffeeist prepared the drink quickly without rushing. I got the drink I ordered and was on my way in about a minute and a half. And that Turtle Mocha was delicious.
Yes, I am thankful that this is the biggest issue I have to write about right now. But I am so impressed by Caribou Coffee that I just have to tell everyone. The difference between them and their competition was staggering. I hope they come to Kenosha someday. If they do, there will eventually be two vacant buildings where certain other coffee shops used to be.
I stopped in at Caribou Coffee again this morning and encountered a different crew. They were just as friendly, but they were also so happy and energetic that I couldn't help but be in a great mood for the rest of the morning. And of course my order was ready in about a minute and a half, it was correct, and it was delicious.
Maybe if I drink more coffee, I'll get used to it again and my eyes will stop vibrating.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Fun Gearbox Info
The remains of the layshaft came out of the gearbox last night, and the 2nd and 3rd gears are completely stripped -- no teeth on either one (and their gums are in terrible shape to boot). The pinion shaft is welded to the front bearing, but if I remove the bearing from the case, then I may still be able to salvage the case.
I'm going to try to concentrate on the rest of the car tonight instead. The gearbox won't be going anywhere, and I shouldn't need the case for a long time.
I'm going to try to concentrate on the rest of the car tonight instead. The gearbox won't be going anywhere, and I shouldn't need the case for a long time.
Monday, November 07, 2005
A Second Crank Opinion
Special update!
I told Bruce Lindstrand what I found in the engine. He called his engine builder, Curtis Farley, and before Bruce had finished saying, “Low oil pressure,” Curtis told him that the #3 main bearing was pounded out. A clever deduction indeed, 007, but why? Mr. Farley outlined the three likely scenarios.
#1: Motor Mount Strain. The Ford “Kent” engine has motor mounts on either side of the block. If the frame of the car is crooked (all racecar frames are after a while), the engine will not be perfectly centered in the frame. Forcing the motor mounts into position can put a strain on the engine block, and the strain can be severe enough to actually twist or bend the block. I know we can rule this one out. We’ve pulled and reinstalled the engine about half a dozen times, and by the second time we learned the proper technique. You don’t record how many washers were on which engine mount and then force everything back into the same position. Instead, you loosely assemble the engine mounts, install the gearbox, and gradually and evenly tighten everything down. Eventually, the chassis and engine combination will “tell” you how many washers go where. Everything gets centered as well as possible, and strain is minimized.
#2: Insufficient Oil Supply. The Kent engine has an odd oil gallery design. The oil pump feeds into the right side of the block, but the oil has to pass to the left side of the block before it goes to the main bearings. The gallery which feeds the #3 main is notorious for being too narrow and is easily clogged by debris. You could say the engine has a heart attack. The good thing about this scenario is that it is easily fixed. A threaded plug on each side of the engine block can be removed so that you can look through this passage. Any blockage will be obvious and easy to remove, and the oil passage can be drilled out to allow more oil flow. The oil pump plumbing can also be rearranged to feed the main bearings more directly, but that may be a bit extreme.
#3: The “Mystery of the Collapsing #3 Bearing.” The story goes that every once in a while, despite meticulous assembly, a Formula Ford motor never develops oil pressure (or else the oil pressure quickly drops). Everything checks out, but the #3 main bearing is trash. If this condition is found before the engine is run, it may only need new main bearings to live a long and happy life. Nobody knows what causes the bearing to collapse, or why the replacement rarely fails. Although the fix does not involve any machine work, I don’t like this scenario at all. I’d much rather be able to positively identify the cause of a problem and take steps to prevent it from happening again.
Unfortunately, his professional opinion is that reusing the crank would be a bad gamble. Bending the crank has weakened it. Even if the machine shop could regrind it to compensate instead of bending it back into shape, it is still not likely to stay in one piece.
I told Bruce Lindstrand what I found in the engine. He called his engine builder, Curtis Farley, and before Bruce had finished saying, “Low oil pressure,” Curtis told him that the #3 main bearing was pounded out. A clever deduction indeed, 007, but why? Mr. Farley outlined the three likely scenarios.
#1: Motor Mount Strain. The Ford “Kent” engine has motor mounts on either side of the block. If the frame of the car is crooked (all racecar frames are after a while), the engine will not be perfectly centered in the frame. Forcing the motor mounts into position can put a strain on the engine block, and the strain can be severe enough to actually twist or bend the block. I know we can rule this one out. We’ve pulled and reinstalled the engine about half a dozen times, and by the second time we learned the proper technique. You don’t record how many washers were on which engine mount and then force everything back into the same position. Instead, you loosely assemble the engine mounts, install the gearbox, and gradually and evenly tighten everything down. Eventually, the chassis and engine combination will “tell” you how many washers go where. Everything gets centered as well as possible, and strain is minimized.
#2: Insufficient Oil Supply. The Kent engine has an odd oil gallery design. The oil pump feeds into the right side of the block, but the oil has to pass to the left side of the block before it goes to the main bearings. The gallery which feeds the #3 main is notorious for being too narrow and is easily clogged by debris. You could say the engine has a heart attack. The good thing about this scenario is that it is easily fixed. A threaded plug on each side of the engine block can be removed so that you can look through this passage. Any blockage will be obvious and easy to remove, and the oil passage can be drilled out to allow more oil flow. The oil pump plumbing can also be rearranged to feed the main bearings more directly, but that may be a bit extreme.
#3: The “Mystery of the Collapsing #3 Bearing.” The story goes that every once in a while, despite meticulous assembly, a Formula Ford motor never develops oil pressure (or else the oil pressure quickly drops). Everything checks out, but the #3 main bearing is trash. If this condition is found before the engine is run, it may only need new main bearings to live a long and happy life. Nobody knows what causes the bearing to collapse, or why the replacement rarely fails. Although the fix does not involve any machine work, I don’t like this scenario at all. I’d much rather be able to positively identify the cause of a problem and take steps to prevent it from happening again.
Unfortunately, his professional opinion is that reusing the crank would be a bad gamble. Bending the crank has weakened it. Even if the machine shop could regrind it to compensate instead of bending it back into shape, it is still not likely to stay in one piece.
Chicken and Eggshells
The engine has been torn completely down now, and the bottom end has two big problems. The #3 main bearing is completely wiped out, which explains the low oil pressure. The crankshaft is also bent, which is odd since it was new this spring and we had several strengthening and blueprinting processes performed before it was installed.
So which came first? Did the bearing collapse, allowing the crankshaft to flex too much by taking away its central support? Or did the crankshaft bend (or crack) and then destroy the bearing? A chicken and egg problem, but at least the connecting rod didn’t cross the road this time.
The crank and the engine block will have to be checked for cracks and thoroughly measured first. A crack in either one would answer the question while permanently retiring that part. Accurate measurements should tell us if the crank can be repaired and if the block can be reused. It would be disappointing to say the least to have to scrap the second engine in two seasons.
(In case you’re picturing a crankshaft folded in half or twisted like a pretzel: It doesn’t take a very dramatic curve to render a crankshaft unfit for use. It still looks like a good crankshaft to the unaided eye. To check for straightness, you place the crank in the engine so that it is only supported by one main bearing at each end. A very precise measuring tool is put in contact with the center main bearing journal on the crankshaft, and the crank is slowly rotated. In this case, the center main bearing journal is 0.0025” off center. Not exactly a banana, but that’s much worse than the maximum allowed 0.0005” measurement.)
So which came first? Did the bearing collapse, allowing the crankshaft to flex too much by taking away its central support? Or did the crankshaft bend (or crack) and then destroy the bearing? A chicken and egg problem, but at least the connecting rod didn’t cross the road this time.
The crank and the engine block will have to be checked for cracks and thoroughly measured first. A crack in either one would answer the question while permanently retiring that part. Accurate measurements should tell us if the crank can be repaired and if the block can be reused. It would be disappointing to say the least to have to scrap the second engine in two seasons.
(In case you’re picturing a crankshaft folded in half or twisted like a pretzel: It doesn’t take a very dramatic curve to render a crankshaft unfit for use. It still looks like a good crankshaft to the unaided eye. To check for straightness, you place the crank in the engine so that it is only supported by one main bearing at each end. A very precise measuring tool is put in contact with the center main bearing journal on the crankshaft, and the crank is slowly rotated. In this case, the center main bearing journal is 0.0025” off center. Not exactly a banana, but that’s much worse than the maximum allowed 0.0005” measurement.)
Friday, November 04, 2005
Garage Organization
What was it I said yesterday about only accomplishing some tidying up in the garage? Oh yes, here it is:
On the other hand, I may only accomplish "putting parts in boxes and getting
them out of my way."
How about that, I was right!
This is actually frustrating. Racecar parts are not designed to nest together or fit neatly into boxes. Each attempt to put some parts away ends with a huge box containing two bulky parts and a lot of air. Small parts can usually be crammed together into one box, but the resulting 9 x 6 x 12 inch box that weighs about 50 pounds is going a little too far in the other direction.
My buddy Bob Clark was kind enough to lend me an impact socket for the pinion shaft nut, so I may be able to get the gearbox apart next week. This weekend is an engine weekend. If I'm lucky, I can get it ready for the machine shop before next week.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Scrapbook Photos
There is nothing new to report today because I took last night off at the last minute. But here’s a link to some photos to tide you over until something interesting happens.
The good parts are on pages 13 and 16.
It’s a “pdf” file, which means that if you don’t already have Adobe Acrobat Reader, you’ll need to get it. It’s a free program that will give you access to a huge amount of information on the Internet. In fact, I’d be surprised if you don’t already have it. Click the link and see what happens.
I plan to work on the chassis and suspension tonight. The weather is remarkably mild today, so I may be able to work late and get a lot accomplished. On the other hand, I may only accomplish "putting parts in boxes and getting them out of my way." That's still an accomplishment, though.
The good parts are on pages 13 and 16.
It’s a “pdf” file, which means that if you don’t already have Adobe Acrobat Reader, you’ll need to get it. It’s a free program that will give you access to a huge amount of information on the Internet. In fact, I’d be surprised if you don’t already have it. Click the link and see what happens.
I plan to work on the chassis and suspension tonight. The weather is remarkably mild today, so I may be able to work late and get a lot accomplished. On the other hand, I may only accomplish "putting parts in boxes and getting them out of my way." That's still an accomplishment, though.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
More gearbox parts
The input shaft came out in good shape overall, but the splines are suspect. The splined coupler which ties it to the layshaft was damaged by heat and by impact with something else, though who knows with what. The splines on the input shaft show just a little discoloration, almost as if the coupler deposited some material onto them. The rest of the shaft looks like it never even overheated. The color is as it was from the factory – it doesn’t even have any gear lube burned on it, and the Pegasus part number (written in Sharpie marker) is still there! It is too good to demote it to a clutch alignment tool, but I’m not sure it could be trusted to survive a full season or more. Into the spares bin it goes. Now I even feel smart for keeping the original splined coupler that we replaced when the original input shaft broke in August.
I’ll be continuing the engine teardown tonight. I hope to get far enough in to find the cause of the low oil pressure.
I’ll be continuing the engine teardown tonight. I hope to get far enough in to find the cause of the low oil pressure.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Gearbox Teardown
The gearbox is now in several pieces on the garage floor. The rear brake calipers are all cleaned up (only three cans of brake cleaner and half a roll of paper towels) and waiting to be installed on the new transmission. The sideplates came off the gearbox without too much trouble, exposing the differential and the ring & pinion gears. The gears and the diff carrier – originally different shades of silver and grey – are now all an even brownish blue tint, indicating severe overheating and a patina of burned gear lube. All of the teeth show signs of galling. Strike that assembly from the list of potentially salvageable parts.
To take the gearbox apart further will require removal of large castle nuts from the pinion shaft and the layshaft. This is normally very simple: Put the transmission in two gears at the same time, and the two shafts will not turn when you put a wrench on the nut. Unfortunately, the transmission cannot select any gears at the moment. The layshaft nut came off by hand, which was a pleasant surprise, but not pleasant enough to outweigh the discovery that the layshaft was broken from flailing around when the rear support bearing fell apart. Scratch the layshaft from the list.
Since the pinion shaft can’t be locked to the layshaft, there is no convenient way to hold it from turning while the castle nut is loosened. A big pipe wrench on the pinion gear could work. Damage to the pinion gear is not a concern, since the pinion gear was already off the list. The trouble is that the wrench may dig into the main case and take it off the list as well. On the other hand, removing the pinion shaft is the only way to keep the case on the list. Will the cure kill the patient?
Removing the input shaft will require a bit of ingenuity. The input shaft is stuck in the case, retained by the splined coupler which holds it to the layshaft. The coupler is stuck to the input shaft until the broken end of the layshaft drawbolt comes out of the input shaft. That can’t happen until I can get at that end of the input shaft with a drill, which won’t fit into the case – which the input shaft is stuck in. I may have to cut apart the coupler, which would scratch it from the list. Otherwise, scratch the (new) input shaft, too. I have an idea, though. I’ll let you know tomorrow if it works.
The ever-shrinking list of potentially salvageable parts now includes
- the main case
- the side covers
- the stub axles
- the bearing carrier
- the rear cover
- the gearshift selector finger
- and the input shaft.
That looks like a lot until you consider that the gearbox is made up of some 150 parts, not counting all of the shims and spacers that make everything line up properly.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Fuel Cell Maintenance
Fuel cells – not the hydrogen-oxygen electricity generating things that the EPA is excited about, but the impact-absorbing fuel tanks in racecars – are an important safety item. Unfortunately, they’re expensive and have a finite life span. Foam baffling inside keeps the fuel from sloshing and reduces the possibility of explosion in case the cell is ruptured, but the foam deteriorates after a few years and turns into a fuel pump-clogging sludge that causes racecars to choke to a stop. The bladder that actually holds the fuel typically lasts about ten years before it begins to crack and fall apart. Owners of older cars with older fuel cells dread the day when they find a puddle of fuel under the car.
The cheap and easy part of fuel cell maintenance is the replacement of the foam baffling. The foam only costs between $50 and $200 (depending on the fuel cell size). Having old foam break up can cost fuel filters, fuel pumps, and lost races. In the last two seasons, two of my friends lost a combined 6 races due to fuel cell foam clogging.
I found some interesting information from Eagle Fuel Cells (Eagle River, Wisconsin) about extending the life of fuel cells. Storing the cell empty is bad (oops), because that allows the rubber in the bladder to dry out. Regular pump gasoline is also bad, because it is not as stable as aviation gas, and the formulation is particularly harsh on the rubber ("gasohol" is even worse). I don’t know if race gas counts as pump gas, but AvGas is cheap enough that five gallons for winter storage will be worth the investment if it delays the replacement of the cell for another year.
Someone (sorry, I don’t remember who) recently pointed out that the rubber in the cell bladder doesn’t get along with water either. Cars where the cell sits on the floorpan often trap rainwater between the floor and the cell if there is no provision for drainage. Tiga were clever enough to sit the cell on top of some frame tubes, which minimizes contact with water. That’s what we call “good news.” The bad news is that resting the weight of the cell (and the fuel inside) on such a small area causes a major strain on the bladder. Fixing this should also be inexpensive and easy. A “floor” of heavy wire mesh between the cell and the tubes will at least spread the load a bit without trapping any water against the bladder. A basic frame around the mesh should make it rigid enough that the load will be much more evenly distributed.
All three projects should total about $150 and maybe a weekend. That’s a bargain if it keeps the cell alive through another season.
The cheap and easy part of fuel cell maintenance is the replacement of the foam baffling. The foam only costs between $50 and $200 (depending on the fuel cell size). Having old foam break up can cost fuel filters, fuel pumps, and lost races. In the last two seasons, two of my friends lost a combined 6 races due to fuel cell foam clogging.
I found some interesting information from Eagle Fuel Cells (Eagle River, Wisconsin) about extending the life of fuel cells. Storing the cell empty is bad (oops), because that allows the rubber in the bladder to dry out. Regular pump gasoline is also bad, because it is not as stable as aviation gas, and the formulation is particularly harsh on the rubber ("gasohol" is even worse). I don’t know if race gas counts as pump gas, but AvGas is cheap enough that five gallons for winter storage will be worth the investment if it delays the replacement of the cell for another year.
Someone (sorry, I don’t remember who) recently pointed out that the rubber in the cell bladder doesn’t get along with water either. Cars where the cell sits on the floorpan often trap rainwater between the floor and the cell if there is no provision for drainage. Tiga were clever enough to sit the cell on top of some frame tubes, which minimizes contact with water. That’s what we call “good news.” The bad news is that resting the weight of the cell (and the fuel inside) on such a small area causes a major strain on the bladder. Fixing this should also be inexpensive and easy. A “floor” of heavy wire mesh between the cell and the tubes will at least spread the load a bit without trapping any water against the bladder. A basic frame around the mesh should make it rigid enough that the load will be much more evenly distributed.
All three projects should total about $150 and maybe a weekend. That’s a bargain if it keeps the cell alive through another season.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
What a Mess!
Yecch.
The minute you bolt a car together, dirt seems to fly in from all over the world to make a new home in the crevices juuuust out of your reach. Equally amazing is the phenomenon whereby oil apparently flows uphill to join the dirt, drawn as if by magnetism. The resulting sludge will stay in place forever, or until the car is taken apart again.
Add to the mix a season of very hard running and three minor off-course excursions (two of them at the last two events), and you've got the recipe for one heck of a mess. This car can scoop up a lot of dirt, grass, and other debris because it sits so low to the ground. The configuration of the bellhousing (the front is open at the bottom) means that a LOT of debris can be stuffed in around the flywheel and starter, and it isn't inclined to come out on its own.
Until you pull the engine from the car, of course. You have to tilt the engine to clear the frame rails, so the dirt falls right out. Most of it lands smack in the middle of the oil that dripped out of the engine when you rocked it the other way. That weird magnetism again.
I could literally start a small garden with all the dirt that's caught up in this engine. That's not such a bad idea, cosmically. Maybe potting a couple of plants with this dirt could go some way towards balancing the bad karma from spilling so much oil...
Ah yes, the oil. How can something so slippery be so sticky? A fine layer of oil acts like flypaper, attracting and holding every available speck of dirt for miles around. For some reason, I keep thinking about putting "lifetime supply of paper towels" on my wishlist. (Before you run out and buy some for me, let me tell you a secret: I've gone through a roll and a half in two evenings so far, and the engine isn't even clean enough to go in the back of the pickup truck yet.)
The rear suspension teardown revealed a couple of surprises. One outer CV joint bolt on the right side had broken (usually they just loosen). The inner rod end on the lower right rear wishbone failed in a perplexing way: the race (the part holding the inner ball in place) actually "walked" out of the housing! I've never seen anything like it, and the confusing thing is that there was (theoretically) no load in the direction that the race travelled. The left rear hub also loosened up again -- time for some stronger hubs! And two of the ball bearings from the transmission layshaft rear bearing were found wedged in between two ribs in the bearing carrier.
Tonight is my night off, but I'll get back to the cleanup work on Thursday. Still planning to begin engine teardown this weekend!
(Leslie, that link is just for you.)
The minute you bolt a car together, dirt seems to fly in from all over the world to make a new home in the crevices juuuust out of your reach. Equally amazing is the phenomenon whereby oil apparently flows uphill to join the dirt, drawn as if by magnetism. The resulting sludge will stay in place forever, or until the car is taken apart again.
Add to the mix a season of very hard running and three minor off-course excursions (two of them at the last two events), and you've got the recipe for one heck of a mess. This car can scoop up a lot of dirt, grass, and other debris because it sits so low to the ground. The configuration of the bellhousing (the front is open at the bottom) means that a LOT of debris can be stuffed in around the flywheel and starter, and it isn't inclined to come out on its own.
Until you pull the engine from the car, of course. You have to tilt the engine to clear the frame rails, so the dirt falls right out. Most of it lands smack in the middle of the oil that dripped out of the engine when you rocked it the other way. That weird magnetism again.
I could literally start a small garden with all the dirt that's caught up in this engine. That's not such a bad idea, cosmically. Maybe potting a couple of plants with this dirt could go some way towards balancing the bad karma from spilling so much oil...
Ah yes, the oil. How can something so slippery be so sticky? A fine layer of oil acts like flypaper, attracting and holding every available speck of dirt for miles around. For some reason, I keep thinking about putting "lifetime supply of paper towels" on my wishlist. (Before you run out and buy some for me, let me tell you a secret: I've gone through a roll and a half in two evenings so far, and the engine isn't even clean enough to go in the back of the pickup truck yet.)
The rear suspension teardown revealed a couple of surprises. One outer CV joint bolt on the right side had broken (usually they just loosen). The inner rod end on the lower right rear wishbone failed in a perplexing way: the race (the part holding the inner ball in place) actually "walked" out of the housing! I've never seen anything like it, and the confusing thing is that there was (theoretically) no load in the direction that the race travelled. The left rear hub also loosened up again -- time for some stronger hubs! And two of the ball bearings from the transmission layshaft rear bearing were found wedged in between two ribs in the bearing carrier.
Tonight is my night off, but I'll get back to the cleanup work on Thursday. Still planning to begin engine teardown this weekend!
(Leslie, that link is just for you.)
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Photos from The Loooong Race
In this morning's email were several great photos from Brian Lindstrand -- D Sports Racer driver, nephew of Bruce Lindstrand, and general all-around great guy.
Ahh, the good memories. Getting ready to get in the car for the first practice session. My father seems to be trying to tell me something terribly important, but in fact he's probably asking me if the tire pressures are set, or if there's fuel in the car. Yes to both questions... and yes, I have forgotten both before.
Aaaand... the not-so-good. This is us in our mad dash to try to repair the gearbox before the race. We cleaned the parts and then bathed them in oil and tired to flush the maincase with fresh oil to try to make the parts happy again. It was a very unhappy gearbox.
Here's Brian next to his racecar. Sitting in the car is Nicole Temple, Lindstrand Motorsports' transmission specialist. (Did I mention that Nicole also helped with the paint on my car?) They co-drove this race, and won their class. Bravo!
The car was originally a Formula Ford built by Titan, but it was converted to a sports racer with a Fiat engine some years ago -- before I started my own driving career. Brian was finally convinced to replace the Fiat with something a little more reliable a couple of years ago, so a Yamaha R1 engine now powers the car to some very impressive speeds.
Back in my garage, the transmission is off, as is the rear suspension and most of the engine "extras." The engine should be out of the car tonight. We may be able to start tearing it down this weekend.
Ahh, the good memories. Getting ready to get in the car for the first practice session. My father seems to be trying to tell me something terribly important, but in fact he's probably asking me if the tire pressures are set, or if there's fuel in the car. Yes to both questions... and yes, I have forgotten both before.
Aaaand... the not-so-good. This is us in our mad dash to try to repair the gearbox before the race. We cleaned the parts and then bathed them in oil and tired to flush the maincase with fresh oil to try to make the parts happy again. It was a very unhappy gearbox.
Here's Brian next to his racecar. Sitting in the car is Nicole Temple, Lindstrand Motorsports' transmission specialist. (Did I mention that Nicole also helped with the paint on my car?) They co-drove this race, and won their class. Bravo!The car was originally a Formula Ford built by Titan, but it was converted to a sports racer with a Fiat engine some years ago -- before I started my own driving career. Brian was finally convinced to replace the Fiat with something a little more reliable a couple of years ago, so a Yamaha R1 engine now powers the car to some very impressive speeds.
Back in my garage, the transmission is off, as is the rear suspension and most of the engine "extras." The engine should be out of the car tonight. We may be able to start tearing it down this weekend.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Photos from October 8
I just got a CD of photos from Brad Ellingson, who attended the Fall Sprints with his digital camera instead of his racecar. Brad, I'm now torn between hoping you get your car back out next year and hoping you keep snapping away with the camera. Thanks!
The shot of the weekend. As I entered corner 3, the corner station was waving the yellow flag, which usually means a car spun on track. As I came around the corner, I saw the blue FV stalled sideways on the track and I thought he was closer to the inside of the track. I committed to a path going around the front of his car and then discovered that there was no track there. Brad caught the moment in all of its lawnmowing glory. Alex Murray (#45) can be seen learning from my mistake.
It took some minutes of head-scratching for me to realize that this shot was taken a fraction of a second before the photo above. My hand was in the air as a signal to the drivers behind me that I was slowing down, there was real danger ahead, and they should look for a way through it.
Look at where the car is on the track and the direction it's pointed. Now look back at the other photo and compare where the car went. The difference is called drifting. As the car goes through the corner, it's pointed farther around the corner than its actual path of travel. If I had been travelling in the same direction the car was pointing (instead of drifting to the outside of the corner), I'd have speared the FV in the side.
I like the contrast in this one. Car #55 is a Formula 500 (once known as F440). These cars have snowmobile engines and the original snowmobile primary drive belt system. They use tiny little tires, but they weigh less than a Formula Ford and put out close to the same power through a CVT (Constantly Variable Transmission) -- sort of a cross between a go-kart clutch and an automatic transmission. They don't have to shift gears, and their engines are always in the peak power band, so they accellerate quickly and have a very high top speed. They're fast, but I just can't consider them real race cars because they don't have a gearbox.
I hate to end on an insult to another class of racecar, so I'll mention that I will be pulling the engine this week, and I have a line on a gearbox for sale down south. I'll keep you posted on both as things progress.
The shot of the weekend. As I entered corner 3, the corner station was waving the yellow flag, which usually means a car spun on track. As I came around the corner, I saw the blue FV stalled sideways on the track and I thought he was closer to the inside of the track. I committed to a path going around the front of his car and then discovered that there was no track there. Brad caught the moment in all of its lawnmowing glory. Alex Murray (#45) can be seen learning from my mistake.
It took some minutes of head-scratching for me to realize that this shot was taken a fraction of a second before the photo above. My hand was in the air as a signal to the drivers behind me that I was slowing down, there was real danger ahead, and they should look for a way through it.Look at where the car is on the track and the direction it's pointed. Now look back at the other photo and compare where the car went. The difference is called drifting. As the car goes through the corner, it's pointed farther around the corner than its actual path of travel. If I had been travelling in the same direction the car was pointing (instead of drifting to the outside of the corner), I'd have speared the FV in the side.
I like the contrast in this one. Car #55 is a Formula 500 (once known as F440). These cars have snowmobile engines and the original snowmobile primary drive belt system. They use tiny little tires, but they weigh less than a Formula Ford and put out close to the same power through a CVT (Constantly Variable Transmission) -- sort of a cross between a go-kart clutch and an automatic transmission. They don't have to shift gears, and their engines are always in the peak power band, so they accellerate quickly and have a very high top speed. They're fast, but I just can't consider them real race cars because they don't have a gearbox.I hate to end on an insult to another class of racecar, so I'll mention that I will be pulling the engine this week, and I have a line on a gearbox for sale down south. I'll keep you posted on both as things progress.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Thanks
Now that the season is over, I want to take some space here to thank some people who made it possible. The short list is "everyone who has ever talked with me about racing," but that's short-changing the people who really made this season happen. In random order:
Bruce Lindstrand, Cindy Lindstrand, Nicole Temple, and the rest of the Lindstrand Motorsports crew. It's rare to find people so willing to take you under their wing. I can't even begin to list the things they have done to help me. Just one example: At the bitter cold National race in May, I was walking back to my paddock space from the concession stand, and just as it began to drizzle a bit, I saw the LMI crew pushing my car from my spot to a spot under their already crowded tent to keep it dry. I truly cannot thank you enough.
Mom & Dad. I'm proud to say that my parents are my two biggest fans. Without my father's help, the car never would have hit the track this year. Without his expertise in engine building and his meticulous attention to detail, it never would have gone as fast or as far as it did. And without my mother's support and encouragement, the season would have been a lot shorter and much less enjoyable. I'll always have crew passes for you two.
Pete Wood. Speedy Petey is a multiple-time champion in Club Formula Ford -- once in my car! To paraphrase Fernando Alonso, this championship means everything because I had to beat him to win it. It was never easy, and you pushed me to drive like I never knew I could. And let's not forget that he sold me the car in the first place, and he helped me to restore it before I even paid it off!
Jack Bowling. JB Machine has made several vital parts on the car, and they've all been beautifully crafted, quickly done, and exactly what I needed. Add to that the fact that Jack has some great stories about racing back when people raced just to have fun.
Corky Jahn. Another person without whom I would not be the proud owner of a Tiga, much less a Tiga with four wheels on the ground. Corky helped finance the initial purchase by letting me sell him many of the spares -- and then letting me borrow them back when I needed them!
Chris & Carla Heitman and Pegasus Auto Racing Supplies. Chris is still a racer, even if he hasn't put on a helmet in a while. He and Carla understand what it takes to run a Formula Ford, and they have been an invaluable source of support, information, and helping hands. And they have yet to deny me a day off to go racing... Congratulations again on 25 years of Pegasus. I mean it when I say that this is the company I plan to retire from someday.
Lynn Serra, who told me about the Tiga when Pete wanted to sell it, and who never lets me think of quitting. Even if she has to smack me in the back of the head to get her point across. I still have a few more championships to win before I can break your record. Just watch me.
The Girl Who Wants to Remain Anonymous. You kept me sane (relatively), you made me laugh every day, you carried me to the med shack when I was ready to pass out. Despite having no interest in racing, you put up with me almost all summer. You really deserve a trophy for that.
There are hundreds more who have loaned me tools, parts, food, places to sleep, advice, and encouragement. Thank you all!
Bruce Lindstrand, Cindy Lindstrand, Nicole Temple, and the rest of the Lindstrand Motorsports crew. It's rare to find people so willing to take you under their wing. I can't even begin to list the things they have done to help me. Just one example: At the bitter cold National race in May, I was walking back to my paddock space from the concession stand, and just as it began to drizzle a bit, I saw the LMI crew pushing my car from my spot to a spot under their already crowded tent to keep it dry. I truly cannot thank you enough.
Mom & Dad. I'm proud to say that my parents are my two biggest fans. Without my father's help, the car never would have hit the track this year. Without his expertise in engine building and his meticulous attention to detail, it never would have gone as fast or as far as it did. And without my mother's support and encouragement, the season would have been a lot shorter and much less enjoyable. I'll always have crew passes for you two.
Pete Wood. Speedy Petey is a multiple-time champion in Club Formula Ford -- once in my car! To paraphrase Fernando Alonso, this championship means everything because I had to beat him to win it. It was never easy, and you pushed me to drive like I never knew I could. And let's not forget that he sold me the car in the first place, and he helped me to restore it before I even paid it off!
Jack Bowling. JB Machine has made several vital parts on the car, and they've all been beautifully crafted, quickly done, and exactly what I needed. Add to that the fact that Jack has some great stories about racing back when people raced just to have fun.
Corky Jahn. Another person without whom I would not be the proud owner of a Tiga, much less a Tiga with four wheels on the ground. Corky helped finance the initial purchase by letting me sell him many of the spares -- and then letting me borrow them back when I needed them!
Chris & Carla Heitman and Pegasus Auto Racing Supplies. Chris is still a racer, even if he hasn't put on a helmet in a while. He and Carla understand what it takes to run a Formula Ford, and they have been an invaluable source of support, information, and helping hands. And they have yet to deny me a day off to go racing... Congratulations again on 25 years of Pegasus. I mean it when I say that this is the company I plan to retire from someday.
Lynn Serra, who told me about the Tiga when Pete wanted to sell it, and who never lets me think of quitting. Even if she has to smack me in the back of the head to get her point across. I still have a few more championships to win before I can break your record. Just watch me.
The Girl Who Wants to Remain Anonymous. You kept me sane (relatively), you made me laugh every day, you carried me to the med shack when I was ready to pass out. Despite having no interest in racing, you put up with me almost all summer. You really deserve a trophy for that.
There are hundreds more who have loaned me tools, parts, food, places to sleep, advice, and encouragement. Thank you all!
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
That Loooong Race
As I mentioned last time, the final race of the season in this area is "That Loooong Race" at Blackhawk, put on (this year for the 35th time!) by the Chicagoland Sports Car Club. I had invited Bruce Lindstrand to co-drive the 100 mile race with me waaay back when I didn't know what kind of season I'd have and what condition the car would be in by now. I was eager to see him drive the car again, and he was excited to drive his old car again.
The car seemed to need little preparation after the Regional the week before, so I loaded it up and headed to the track. Our group was scheduled to run only on Sunday (20 minute practice, 25 minute qualifying, and 100 lap race), which was a VERY tough schedule. There was very little time between sessions to deal with the inevitable things that crop up on a race day. When you're running a race more than twice as long as you're used to, small problems become big problems.
I ran the practice session because Bruce ran that session in the other car he was co-driving: Allen Wheatcroft's 1998 Van Diemen FF. Bruce was going to have a very busy day. We determined that he would start the race in Allen's car and I would start in my car. Bruce would pull into the pits around lap 25, Allen would get in his car, I would come in on lap 30, and Bruce would take over in my car. The practice session went well, and I turned a few 1:22 laps.
The qualifying session was a little surreal. Seeing my own car being driven by someone else gave me an odd feeling of pride mixed with jealousy -- the car looked and sounded great, but someone else was driving my car! Bruce was kind to me and to the car. He immediately cranked out a string of 1:23.7 laps. He was so consistent that we thought there was something wrong with our timing equipment, because the numbers never changed. Then the worry set in. The second-last lap, as he was passing the pit lane, the car popped out of gear. That was very strange, because that had never happened to me with that car. The next lap, he pulled in and explained that the car wouldn't stay in 4th gear and was getting generally hard to shift. Smoke was coming off the gearbox -- never a good sign.
We let the gearbox cool a bit, to the point where our gloves wouldn't burst into flames as soon as we touched it. We took the rear cover off, expecting some gear lube to come out. All that came out was a little smoke. Bad sign.
We took the bearing carrier off and pulled the gear stacks out. Again, no oil -- only smoke. Very bad sign. There should have been at least a quart of gear lube inside. All of the internal parts were a disgusting shade of brown, evidence that the residual oil had been baked onto them. A couple of parts (the 4th gear set) had turned blue from the abuse.
We cleaned and re-oiled everything and replaced the 4th gear set with a new set. When I went to reassemble the gear stacks, something clearly didn't line up. Nicole Temple, Lindstrand Motorsports' gearbox specialist, spotted the problem immediately. The extreme heat had allowed a bearing to back out of the bearing carrier, changing all of the clearances. Fortunately, it was a thirty-seconds-with-a-mallet job for Bruce, and we went back to reassembling -- and refilling -- the gearbox. But where had the gear lube gone? That was a question that we should have asked and answered before the race, but we were pretty much fried from thrashing to get it back together. We had no idea how long it would last or if it would even work to begin with.
I started the race behind Paul Schindlbeck, the CFF polesitter. I managed to outbrake him going into corner 3 and set about building up a lead. Meanwhile, Pete Wood started from the pit lane. His strategy was to conserve fuel and try to run without stopping for fuel. I hoped he had miscalculated, but the season was basically over, so I wasn't hoping too hard. It was a gutsy strategy. It would be fun to see it work.
Somewhere around lap 20, I got the bad news. Coming down the front straight, the transmission popped out of 4th gear. I was completely unprepared for it, and immediately jammed it in 3rd gear, doing the engine no good at all. As soon as I recovered my wits, I realized that I would just have to hold the shift lever when the car was in 4th gear and drive with one hand. Sounds a lot easier than it is. The next lap, it popped out of 3rd. Yikes. Those are two important gears around Blackhawk, and 3rd gear is used in two sweeping turns. It's pretty tough to hold your line while sliding with only one hand on the wheel! A lap or two later, it popped out of 1st. Very very bad. At no time during the next few laps could I take my hand off the shift lever. I managed to pass Pete, but as I stumbled past, he could clearly smell blood, and he stuck behind me for the rest of that lap.
My left shoulder was getting really sore when I finally saw the relief: the pit board reading "L30 -- In"! I pulled in the pit lane just after Pete passed me. I coasted to a stop, hopped out, and yelled to Bruce, "It's bad! Popping out of all four now!" I turned my attention to refueling the car as my right leg began to cramp from the exertion of stomping on the throttle. The dull soreness in my shoulder began to focus into sharp pain, and my left calf began to cramp in protest. I threw the empty fuel jug down and turned to Bruce to make sure he had gotten the message about the gearbox.
"It's popping out of all four gears -- you have to hold the lever in gear all the time. The motor sounds pretty bad, too. I must have over-revved it at least a half a dozen times from it popping out!" Bruce nodded, looked at the lap counter, and said, "Okay, I think I know what I need to do to finish." He strapped into the car and headed out.
Because the pit stop took a fairly long time, we lost three laps to Pete. Bruce had re-entered the track just in front of Pete, and Pete knew we were having trouble. He knew that all he had to do was keep the car in sight and he'd have us. He was right. Bruce managed to keep a pretty consistent pace in the 1:24 range, but Pete was on his tail the whole time. Bruce couldn't hope to get the three laps back. I watched the lap counter anxiously: 10 laps to go... 5... 3... then it happened.
Pete came down the front straight alone. As he disappeared into corner 1, we became aware of a blue Tiga proceeding slowly down the front straight, hunting for a gear, any gear. The transmission had given out completely, and Bruce was just coasting towards corner 1. Two laps to go.
Pete took the checkered flag and a victory lap as we watched smoke pour out of the back of my car. Talk about a conflict of emotions. Pete was the underdog, he gambled on a longshot strategy and came from behind to win. He beat me for the first time this year. That was great to see, even from my shoes. But my car sat, mortally wounded and unable to continue. I had let Bruce down -- not just in the immediate sense of not being able to win the race, but in the broader sense of not putting into practice all that he had taught me about car preparation.
In hindsight, it all makes sense. The car was popping out of gear because of the extreme heat. The gearbox is held in gear by spring-loaded plungers that fit into detents in the shift rails. (Stick with me here, it's not really that technical.) Springs do not spring anymore if they get too hot. They just give up and relax. I have a theory about where the oil went. When I replaced the input shaft in August, I had to remove the left side cover to do it. Reinstallation required a certain sealant (which I used) to prevent leaks. But I haven't used that type of sealant before, and I didn't know that the nuts that hold the sideplate on need to be retightened after every session until the sealant is fully cured. That was the critical step. The sealant continues to shrink a bit for weeks. I knew the sideplate leaked a bit -- they all do! -- but I didn't realize it was steadily getting worse. Before October, I was changing gears almost every weekend, so checking the oil level in the gearbox was unneccessary. I just refilled it after each gear change. After Labor Day, I ran Blackhawk three times without opening up the gearbox. There was probably some oil in the gearbox, but when the level got too low, the heat increased and simply burned the remaining oil away.
A post-mortem of the gearbox shows pretty much total damage. The rear bearing that supports the layshaft fell apart, allowing the shaft (and its gears) to fall about 1/2" -- enough so that the gears no longer meshed. The shaft flailed around a bit at first, causing an as-yet undetermined amount of damage to the gears and bearing carrier. At this point, replacement of the entire transmission looks like the most economical solution.
But it looks like I may get off cheap compared to Allen. He said he heard a pop coming through corner 5 about 10 laps into his stint (some 15 laps from the end of the race). Everything seemed fine, so he continued. Nothing changed, and he won the Formula Ford race! When he pulled in, the Lindstrand crew noticed a hole in the engine cover. Something had exited the car through the bodywork. They took off the engine cover and saw that part of the transmission bellhousing had been broken out, and the lower frame rails and floorpan had been sheared in two! Apparently the ring gear had broken off the flywheel and done all that damage. But Allen was still able to turn his fastest race laps to date. Well done!
The car seemed to need little preparation after the Regional the week before, so I loaded it up and headed to the track. Our group was scheduled to run only on Sunday (20 minute practice, 25 minute qualifying, and 100 lap race), which was a VERY tough schedule. There was very little time between sessions to deal with the inevitable things that crop up on a race day. When you're running a race more than twice as long as you're used to, small problems become big problems.
I ran the practice session because Bruce ran that session in the other car he was co-driving: Allen Wheatcroft's 1998 Van Diemen FF. Bruce was going to have a very busy day. We determined that he would start the race in Allen's car and I would start in my car. Bruce would pull into the pits around lap 25, Allen would get in his car, I would come in on lap 30, and Bruce would take over in my car. The practice session went well, and I turned a few 1:22 laps.
The qualifying session was a little surreal. Seeing my own car being driven by someone else gave me an odd feeling of pride mixed with jealousy -- the car looked and sounded great, but someone else was driving my car! Bruce was kind to me and to the car. He immediately cranked out a string of 1:23.7 laps. He was so consistent that we thought there was something wrong with our timing equipment, because the numbers never changed. Then the worry set in. The second-last lap, as he was passing the pit lane, the car popped out of gear. That was very strange, because that had never happened to me with that car. The next lap, he pulled in and explained that the car wouldn't stay in 4th gear and was getting generally hard to shift. Smoke was coming off the gearbox -- never a good sign.
We let the gearbox cool a bit, to the point where our gloves wouldn't burst into flames as soon as we touched it. We took the rear cover off, expecting some gear lube to come out. All that came out was a little smoke. Bad sign.
We took the bearing carrier off and pulled the gear stacks out. Again, no oil -- only smoke. Very bad sign. There should have been at least a quart of gear lube inside. All of the internal parts were a disgusting shade of brown, evidence that the residual oil had been baked onto them. A couple of parts (the 4th gear set) had turned blue from the abuse.
We cleaned and re-oiled everything and replaced the 4th gear set with a new set. When I went to reassemble the gear stacks, something clearly didn't line up. Nicole Temple, Lindstrand Motorsports' gearbox specialist, spotted the problem immediately. The extreme heat had allowed a bearing to back out of the bearing carrier, changing all of the clearances. Fortunately, it was a thirty-seconds-with-a-mallet job for Bruce, and we went back to reassembling -- and refilling -- the gearbox. But where had the gear lube gone? That was a question that we should have asked and answered before the race, but we were pretty much fried from thrashing to get it back together. We had no idea how long it would last or if it would even work to begin with.
I started the race behind Paul Schindlbeck, the CFF polesitter. I managed to outbrake him going into corner 3 and set about building up a lead. Meanwhile, Pete Wood started from the pit lane. His strategy was to conserve fuel and try to run without stopping for fuel. I hoped he had miscalculated, but the season was basically over, so I wasn't hoping too hard. It was a gutsy strategy. It would be fun to see it work.
Somewhere around lap 20, I got the bad news. Coming down the front straight, the transmission popped out of 4th gear. I was completely unprepared for it, and immediately jammed it in 3rd gear, doing the engine no good at all. As soon as I recovered my wits, I realized that I would just have to hold the shift lever when the car was in 4th gear and drive with one hand. Sounds a lot easier than it is. The next lap, it popped out of 3rd. Yikes. Those are two important gears around Blackhawk, and 3rd gear is used in two sweeping turns. It's pretty tough to hold your line while sliding with only one hand on the wheel! A lap or two later, it popped out of 1st. Very very bad. At no time during the next few laps could I take my hand off the shift lever. I managed to pass Pete, but as I stumbled past, he could clearly smell blood, and he stuck behind me for the rest of that lap.
My left shoulder was getting really sore when I finally saw the relief: the pit board reading "L30 -- In"! I pulled in the pit lane just after Pete passed me. I coasted to a stop, hopped out, and yelled to Bruce, "It's bad! Popping out of all four now!" I turned my attention to refueling the car as my right leg began to cramp from the exertion of stomping on the throttle. The dull soreness in my shoulder began to focus into sharp pain, and my left calf began to cramp in protest. I threw the empty fuel jug down and turned to Bruce to make sure he had gotten the message about the gearbox.
"It's popping out of all four gears -- you have to hold the lever in gear all the time. The motor sounds pretty bad, too. I must have over-revved it at least a half a dozen times from it popping out!" Bruce nodded, looked at the lap counter, and said, "Okay, I think I know what I need to do to finish." He strapped into the car and headed out.
Because the pit stop took a fairly long time, we lost three laps to Pete. Bruce had re-entered the track just in front of Pete, and Pete knew we were having trouble. He knew that all he had to do was keep the car in sight and he'd have us. He was right. Bruce managed to keep a pretty consistent pace in the 1:24 range, but Pete was on his tail the whole time. Bruce couldn't hope to get the three laps back. I watched the lap counter anxiously: 10 laps to go... 5... 3... then it happened.
Pete came down the front straight alone. As he disappeared into corner 1, we became aware of a blue Tiga proceeding slowly down the front straight, hunting for a gear, any gear. The transmission had given out completely, and Bruce was just coasting towards corner 1. Two laps to go.
Pete took the checkered flag and a victory lap as we watched smoke pour out of the back of my car. Talk about a conflict of emotions. Pete was the underdog, he gambled on a longshot strategy and came from behind to win. He beat me for the first time this year. That was great to see, even from my shoes. But my car sat, mortally wounded and unable to continue. I had let Bruce down -- not just in the immediate sense of not being able to win the race, but in the broader sense of not putting into practice all that he had taught me about car preparation.
In hindsight, it all makes sense. The car was popping out of gear because of the extreme heat. The gearbox is held in gear by spring-loaded plungers that fit into detents in the shift rails. (Stick with me here, it's not really that technical.) Springs do not spring anymore if they get too hot. They just give up and relax. I have a theory about where the oil went. When I replaced the input shaft in August, I had to remove the left side cover to do it. Reinstallation required a certain sealant (which I used) to prevent leaks. But I haven't used that type of sealant before, and I didn't know that the nuts that hold the sideplate on need to be retightened after every session until the sealant is fully cured. That was the critical step. The sealant continues to shrink a bit for weeks. I knew the sideplate leaked a bit -- they all do! -- but I didn't realize it was steadily getting worse. Before October, I was changing gears almost every weekend, so checking the oil level in the gearbox was unneccessary. I just refilled it after each gear change. After Labor Day, I ran Blackhawk three times without opening up the gearbox. There was probably some oil in the gearbox, but when the level got too low, the heat increased and simply burned the remaining oil away.
A post-mortem of the gearbox shows pretty much total damage. The rear bearing that supports the layshaft fell apart, allowing the shaft (and its gears) to fall about 1/2" -- enough so that the gears no longer meshed. The shaft flailed around a bit at first, causing an as-yet undetermined amount of damage to the gears and bearing carrier. At this point, replacement of the entire transmission looks like the most economical solution.
But it looks like I may get off cheap compared to Allen. He said he heard a pop coming through corner 5 about 10 laps into his stint (some 15 laps from the end of the race). Everything seemed fine, so he continued. Nothing changed, and he won the Formula Ford race! When he pulled in, the Lindstrand crew noticed a hole in the engine cover. Something had exited the car through the bodywork. They took off the engine cover and saw that part of the transmission bellhousing had been broken out, and the lower frame rails and floorpan had been sheared in two! Apparently the ring gear had broken off the flywheel and done all that damage. But Allen was still able to turn his fastest race laps to date. Well done!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Fall Sprints
With the championship locked and the engine oil pressure too low for comfort, I was prepared to skip the rest of the season and begin the winter overhaul on the race car. But I needed to run one more SCCA-sanctioned race to renew my SCCA license, and the car was ready, so I was persuaded to run the next Blackhawk race, this one run by the Chicago Region of SCCA.
This was a Regional race taking place over the course of two days (Saturday and Sunday). My group would qualify early on Saturday and race before lunch on Sunday. This was quite a contrast to most of the events I've run so far. All but a few have been either one-day races with three sessions crammed into one day, or double race weekends with two or three sessions each on Saturday and Sunday. I'm not used to having a lot of time on my hands during a race weekend.
The track was cold and slippery for the first qualifying session early Saturday morning, so I didn't accomplish much except to avoid a Formula Vee that had spun across track in corner 3. I had to take to the grass on the outside of the corner, and I learned that the track did in fact have a bit more traction than the damp grass.* No harm done, I got back on the track and finished the session.
The second qualifying session started off pretty poorly. I couldn't get settled down, I couldn't get a rhythm, and I was all over the track. After posting about a half a dozen laps in the high 1:25 range, I decided to quit pushing so hard and to try to follow a Formula Ve
e. Many people will tell you how much a season in an FV can teach you about driving fast. I don't think they realize how much a single session behind an FV can teach you about driving fast! Those cars have half the horsepower of a Formula Ford, half the tire, drum brakes, and suspension that just shouldn't work at all, but they can out-corner any Formula Ford. The drivers learn to conserve momentum rather than relying on horsepower for fast lap times, so their cornering speed is not much lower than their straightline speed. Following that car got me settled down and really focused my concentration on the task at hand. I passed him after a few good laps and immediately turned a 1:20.38.
That was good enough for the CFF pole position... but there were no CFFs behind me. I had been told that this event would be crowded, that "everybody" comes out to have the one last bash before the winter. But I was the only CFF entrant. All I had to do was finish the race to get a win.
Sunday morning was a little warmer than Saturday morning, but still colder than Saturday afternoon. We left everything as it was for Saturday and headed to the grid. I was directly behind Todd Rhoades in a Swift DB-1 Formula Ford, between some F500s, and in front of all of the FVs. The start went well, and I even managed to keep Todd in sight for the first several laps despite the Swift's more advanced suspension, more aerodynamic body, and stickier tires. Once his tires warmed up, he pulled away and I didn't push the issue. I finished the race, which was enough for a win. I took a victory lap with another huge checkered flag slapping against my helmet.
The real drama of this race was at the front of the pack in the Formula Ford race. Bruce Lindstrand ran his '92 Van Diemen (his first time in that car this year) against Mark Kolell's very fast '85 Van Diemen. Bruce started in front of Mark and held him off for 24 laps. Well, almost 24 laps. Mark passed him coming out of the last turn and crossed the finish line just 0.077 seconds in front of Bruce! As someone said later to Bruce, "You held him off for 47 miles... and you couldn't find one more foot?"
I found out the next day that this win put me in the lead in the "TRO Manufacturing Area 5 Central Division CFF Championship" -- but because I did not run the minimum 6 races in the Area 5 series, I was ineligible for the championship! Thrilling, because I had no idea I was even a contender for the title. And yet a little heartbreaking.
The car was still running strong at the end of the race, so I decided to go for broke and run "The Looong Race" the next weekend at Blackhawk. This year-end race is 100 miles, more than twice the typical race distance. Because so many championships are decided before then, people often invite friends to co-drive the event with them. I invited Bruce Lindstrand to drive his old car again.
*Despite what TV racing commentators (and armchair commentators) will claim, hitting wet grass will NOT make the car go faster. If it did, we'd be racing on wet grass, not asphalt! Here's what really happens: Almost any time a car leaves the track, it's skidding or sliding along the asphalt, either trying to stop or trying to make a turn. Skidding and sliding against the asphalt slows the car dramatically. Sliding on grass slows the car only a little bit -- much less than sliding on asphalt. There's a lot of friction between tires and asphalt. There's not much between tires and wet grass. It's the contrast between the deceleration rates that makes it look and feel like the car sped up. In actual fact, all that happened is that the car lost a lot of deceleration. Its true speed will not be any faster after it hits the grass than it was when it left the asphalt. It will continue to slow down, but much less dramatically.
TV cameras perpetuate the myth because the camera operators pan (rotate) the camera to follow the car's motion. The operator compensates for the deceleration rate. When the deceleration rate suddenly changes, the camera operator is caught off-guard, still slowing the camera, and the car appears to "shoot" out of the picture.
And if anyone still believes that cars accelerate when they hit the grass, maybe you can answer this. It takes energy to accelerate. Where does that extra energy come from? Do the individual blades of grass band together to push the car along?
This was a Regional race taking place over the course of two days (Saturday and Sunday). My group would qualify early on Saturday and race before lunch on Sunday. This was quite a contrast to most of the events I've run so far. All but a few have been either one-day races with three sessions crammed into one day, or double race weekends with two or three sessions each on Saturday and Sunday. I'm not used to having a lot of time on my hands during a race weekend.
The track was cold and slippery for the first qualifying session early Saturday morning, so I didn't accomplish much except to avoid a Formula Vee that had spun across track in corner 3. I had to take to the grass on the outside of the corner, and I learned that the track did in fact have a bit more traction than the damp grass.* No harm done, I got back on the track and finished the session.
The second qualifying session started off pretty poorly. I couldn't get settled down, I couldn't get a rhythm, and I was all over the track. After posting about a half a dozen laps in the high 1:25 range, I decided to quit pushing so hard and to try to follow a Formula Ve
e. Many people will tell you how much a season in an FV can teach you about driving fast. I don't think they realize how much a single session behind an FV can teach you about driving fast! Those cars have half the horsepower of a Formula Ford, half the tire, drum brakes, and suspension that just shouldn't work at all, but they can out-corner any Formula Ford. The drivers learn to conserve momentum rather than relying on horsepower for fast lap times, so their cornering speed is not much lower than their straightline speed. Following that car got me settled down and really focused my concentration on the task at hand. I passed him after a few good laps and immediately turned a 1:20.38.That was good enough for the CFF pole position... but there were no CFFs behind me. I had been told that this event would be crowded, that "everybody" comes out to have the one last bash before the winter. But I was the only CFF entrant. All I had to do was finish the race to get a win.
Sunday morning was a little warmer than Saturday morning, but still colder than Saturday afternoon. We left everything as it was for Saturday and headed to the grid. I was directly behind Todd Rhoades in a Swift DB-1 Formula Ford, between some F500s, and in front of all of the FVs. The start went well, and I even managed to keep Todd in sight for the first several laps despite the Swift's more advanced suspension, more aerodynamic body, and stickier tires. Once his tires warmed up, he pulled away and I didn't push the issue. I finished the race, which was enough for a win. I took a victory lap with another huge checkered flag slapping against my helmet.
The real drama of this race was at the front of the pack in the Formula Ford race. Bruce Lindstrand ran his '92 Van Diemen (his first time in that car this year) against Mark Kolell's very fast '85 Van Diemen. Bruce started in front of Mark and held him off for 24 laps. Well, almost 24 laps. Mark passed him coming out of the last turn and crossed the finish line just 0.077 seconds in front of Bruce! As someone said later to Bruce, "You held him off for 47 miles... and you couldn't find one more foot?"
I found out the next day that this win put me in the lead in the "TRO Manufacturing Area 5 Central Division CFF Championship" -- but because I did not run the minimum 6 races in the Area 5 series, I was ineligible for the championship! Thrilling, because I had no idea I was even a contender for the title. And yet a little heartbreaking.
The car was still running strong at the end of the race, so I decided to go for broke and run "The Looong Race" the next weekend at Blackhawk. This year-end race is 100 miles, more than twice the typical race distance. Because so many championships are decided before then, people often invite friends to co-drive the event with them. I invited Bruce Lindstrand to drive his old car again.
*Despite what TV racing commentators (and armchair commentators) will claim, hitting wet grass will NOT make the car go faster. If it did, we'd be racing on wet grass, not asphalt! Here's what really happens: Almost any time a car leaves the track, it's skidding or sliding along the asphalt, either trying to stop or trying to make a turn. Skidding and sliding against the asphalt slows the car dramatically. Sliding on grass slows the car only a little bit -- much less than sliding on asphalt. There's a lot of friction between tires and asphalt. There's not much between tires and wet grass. It's the contrast between the deceleration rates that makes it look and feel like the car sped up. In actual fact, all that happened is that the car lost a lot of deceleration. Its true speed will not be any faster after it hits the grass than it was when it left the asphalt. It will continue to slow down, but much less dramatically.
TV cameras perpetuate the myth because the camera operators pan (rotate) the camera to follow the car's motion. The operator compensates for the deceleration rate. When the deceleration rate suddenly changes, the camera operator is caught off-guard, still slowing the camera, and the car appears to "shoot" out of the picture.
And if anyone still believes that cars accelerate when they hit the grass, maybe you can answer this. It takes energy to accelerate. Where does that extra energy come from? Do the individual blades of grass band together to push the car along?
Monday, October 17, 2005
Catch-Up
I have been scolded by my fans for not posting an update in too long. "Time just got away from me" is the absolute truth -- September 7 was the most recent post?? How did that happen? Well, time to play catch-up again. Step with me now into the WayBack machine...
September 17-18 was a Midwestern Council driver's school / race weekend at Blackhawk Farms Raceway. Since the Tiga's oil pressure was solidly in the "iffy" range, I decided against running as a chase car for the school on Saturday. The MC points chase was almost decided. All I needed was to finish in front of Pete Wood to clinch the CFF championship. Pete was looking strong, so I relied again on strategy.
I had my crew monitor Pete's qualifying times while I watched my own times on my in-car timer. Such an invention! Back in the day (last year), your crew had to use a stopwatch and put numbers on a pit board, which they showed you as you raced past them. But they couldn't show you the time for the lap you just completed -- it was always the lap before. By then, it was old news! Now I can see my lap time right on the steering wheel, as well as lap number, total time in the session, and whether that lap was faster or slower than my best. When Pete did a 1:22, I turned up the wick and did a 1:21. When Pete recorded a 1:20.8, I pulled out all the stops and scraped out a 1:20.2. As I rounded corner 1, I saw Pete's car sitting in the grass next to the corner station.
After the session, Pete explained that he downshifted for corner 1, but when he got back on the throttle, the car didn't accelerate. The engine revved happily, but it wasn't connected to the transmission. He suspected a broken input shaft, like I had at Road America in August, but it sounded to me like a stripped clutch disc. I tried to persuade him to fix it for the race, but his Crossle chassis is a different design than the Tiga. He would have to support the engine with a hoist to get the clutch out. His day was done.
At that point, I could have also packed up and I still would have clinched the championship. (If Pete could win the last two events, and if I didn't show to either one, we would have tied for points, but I had more wins.) But I didn't come out just to pack up when it got too easy. I decided to try to have a race with Scott Reif, the third place CFF qualifier.
I looked for Scott in my mirrors on the first lap, expecting to just race leisurely with him. But as we came out of corner 5, a sports racer spun in corner 6, blocking the right side of the track. Scott was trying to pass the sports racer gridded between us, but he had gone to the right side and almost had to come to a full stop to avoid the stalled car. I think Scott lost about four or five positions and at least 15 seconds because of it. I was too far ahead to catch, so I ran alone for the rest of the race. Scott finished second (in a '76 Tiga), Mike Schindlbeck finished third, Bob Fleming was fourth, and Larry Noble rounded out the CFF field in a third Tiga.
The CFF points after this race:
September 17-18 was a Midwestern Council driver's school / race weekend at Blackhawk Farms Raceway. Since the Tiga's oil pressure was solidly in the "iffy" range, I decided against running as a chase car for the school on Saturday. The MC points chase was almost decided. All I needed was to finish in front of Pete Wood to clinch the CFF championship. Pete was looking strong, so I relied again on strategy.
I had my crew monitor Pete's qualifying times while I watched my own times on my in-car timer. Such an invention! Back in the day (last year), your crew had to use a stopwatch and put numbers on a pit board, which they showed you as you raced past them. But they couldn't show you the time for the lap you just completed -- it was always the lap before. By then, it was old news! Now I can see my lap time right on the steering wheel, as well as lap number, total time in the session, and whether that lap was faster or slower than my best. When Pete did a 1:22, I turned up the wick and did a 1:21. When Pete recorded a 1:20.8, I pulled out all the stops and scraped out a 1:20.2. As I rounded corner 1, I saw Pete's car sitting in the grass next to the corner station.
After the session, Pete explained that he downshifted for corner 1, but when he got back on the throttle, the car didn't accelerate. The engine revved happily, but it wasn't connected to the transmission. He suspected a broken input shaft, like I had at Road America in August, but it sounded to me like a stripped clutch disc. I tried to persuade him to fix it for the race, but his Crossle chassis is a different design than the Tiga. He would have to support the engine with a hoist to get the clutch out. His day was done.
At that point, I could have also packed up and I still would have clinched the championship. (If Pete could win the last two events, and if I didn't show to either one, we would have tied for points, but I had more wins.) But I didn't come out just to pack up when it got too easy. I decided to try to have a race with Scott Reif, the third place CFF qualifier.
I looked for Scott in my mirrors on the first lap, expecting to just race leisurely with him. But as we came out of corner 5, a sports racer spun in corner 6, blocking the right side of the track. Scott was trying to pass the sports racer gridded between us, but he had gone to the right side and almost had to come to a full stop to avoid the stalled car. I think Scott lost about four or five positions and at least 15 seconds because of it. I was too far ahead to catch, so I ran alone for the rest of the race. Scott finished second (in a '76 Tiga), Mike Schindlbeck finished third, Bob Fleming was fourth, and Larry Noble rounded out the CFF field in a third Tiga.
The CFF points after this race:
- John Haydon - 200
- Pete Wood - 126
- Michael Schindlbeck - 85
- Scott Reif - 53
- Denis Downs - 33
- Larry Noble - 27
- Bob Fleming - 21
- Jon Borkowski - 16
- Paul Schindlbeck - 16
- Dick Plank - 13
With only two races remaining and only 50 points up for grabs, my lead was solid. Time to pop the champagne!
Next time: SCCA Fall Sprints at BFR. I promise this one will take me less than a month to write!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
There has been plenty of action since the last update. August 28 was "The Masterpiece: Style & Speed Showcase" car show at Veteran's Park in Milwaukee. It was the first car show of its type in the area, with some spectacular cars (1931 Cadillac V-16 Coupe Road
ster, 1937 Rolls Royce PIII Aero Coupe, and my father's 1932 Packard Coupe Roadster), some great early cars (1902 Curved Dash Oldsmobile, 1926 Stanley "steamer", and a 1905 one-cylinder Cadillac), and competition cars, including my car. The show was carefully planned and staged so that the cars were displayed in groups emphasizing their similarities: finned cars were in a circle with the fins pointing outwards; roadsters were in a circle with the tops down; and competition cars were in a row from oldest (1927 Bugatti Grand Prix car) to newest (1979 Tiga Formula Ford). Proceeds from the show benefitted Jewish Family Services, who are eager to team up for a repeat next year.
Labor Day weekend was unusual for me, to say the least. Races were being held at two tracks in Michigan: Midwestern Council ran at GingerMan in South Haven on Saturday, and SCCA ran two Regional races (Saturday and Sunday) at Grattan near Grand Rapids. I decided that going all the way to Michigan would make more sense if I ran both days. I wanted to get the points for Midwestern Council, and I needed to run more SCCA races to keep that license current. Since the tracks are roughly an hour or two apart, getting a hotel midway between them made sense. The Best Western in Holland turned out to be a great choice. Clean and quiet, with a jaccuzzi tub in the room! Very swank.
Saturday looked like it was going to be uneventful, but looks can deceive. I was the only Club Formula Ford entered, so all I needed to do was finish the race to get a win. I qualified in the thick of the usual group: Dave Knaack's D Sports Racer qualified in front of me, Frank Riemann's FF would be next to me, and Chuck Cassaro's Sports 2000 qualified behind me. When I checked over the car after qualifying, I found that the rear wheel hubs were loose again. I wasn't too concerned, since I know it's due to the relatively soft Brazilian hubs compressing and mushrooming due to the cornering forces that they were never designed for. All I'd have to do would be to retorque the axle nuts and I'd be ready to cruise to an easy win.
Someone once said, "Nothing easy is ever worthwhile." Maybe this was proof that what I'm doing is worthwhile, but when I tried to tighten the right rear axle nut, the threads stripped out of the nut. Bad timing. I don't carry a spare nut (but I will now), and I had about an hour and a half to get the car fixed for the race. I went through the paddock looking for anyone likely to have something to fit. It's an old VW Beetle part, so I checked with some VW Rabbit racers, Porsche drivers, and even the FV brigade, but no luck. As I returned to the Lindstrand Motorsports tent, Nicole Temple told me that a friend of theirs knew a local guy... He had one, but he was 45 minutes away, and the race was in an hour.
A couple of phone calls later, Patrick Ohmann arranged to meet Rob Ritt of Epicenter Design halfway between the track and his shop in Holland. As he sped off, I finished preparing the car and began arranging the details to get the car together and on the track as quickly as possible. Pat would install the new nut as I belted in the car, Nicole Temple from LMI would install the wheel, my roommate David Cox would lower the jack while Amy would take care of the jumpstart battery. All we needed now was the nut. While I waited for Pat and watched the minutes tick away, I mentally prepared myself to start from the pit lane after the other cars had taken the green flag, then just get the required number of laps to be considered a finisher. That was all I needed to do.
As the announcement came over the PA system that the grid for our race was closed*, Pat came running up to me with the new nut in his hand. I jumped in the car and held the brake pedal down as he tightened the nut as much as he dared. As I belted myself in, Nicole got the wheel on quicker than I've ever been able to do, and as I felt the car being lowered off the jack I hit the starter. The engine eagerly barked to life. I got the thumbs-up from Amy and drove toward the grid.
The grid configuration at GingerMan is a little odd. Due to a one-way lane, we had to drive the wrong way down the grid between the lines of cars, turn around, and then join the lineup. When I turned the corner to drive down between the cars, the crews for all the other cars pointed at me in disbelief and began applauding and cheering as though I had already won the race. It's amazing how much the other racers pull for you, even if they're trying to beat you on the track.
Since I was late to the grid, I started from the back. My plan was to just get the required laps, take it easy, get my finish, and pull in. But I don't know a racer who is able to keep his foot off the throttle when the green flag flies. Seeing a slower car disappear in your mirror is just too inspiring. When I got past the first car, I couldn't help trying to pass the next... then the next... I think I passed a car each lap for the first half of the race. I chased down all the cars gridded behind me and actually improved my finishing position by one spot.
We packed up the truck and loaded the trailer after the race to get back to the hotel for the night. I soaked in the jaccuzzi for a while until my throat started to burn a little, which I figured was due to breathing in all of the hot chlorinated water vaporizing all around me. When I woke up Sunday morning, I realized that it was really the start of a cold. There wasn't much I could do about it then except get some hot cider and oatmeal at the hotel's continental breakfast and hit the road to Grattan.
We got to Grattan right on time, got through Registration and Tech without any delays or difficulties, and found a great paddock spot without even looking. After we got the car unloaded I realized that I would have plenty of time to change the gears to suit the longer track. I got the gear change done in record time with Amy's help -- despite a boneheaded error on my part that cost me about 15 extra minutes -- and waited for the morning qualifying session.
Qualifying went well enough, but I didn't set the world on fire. I only needed to finish the race to fulfill the renewal requirements for my SCCA license, but I enjoy Grattan too much not to drive hard. Once I managed to match my best time from May, I cut my session short by a few minutes and pulled in, hoping to save the engine and tires a bit. I was sent to Impound for a spot-check, and I rolled across the scales at 1191 pounds. I had a few more gallons of fuel than I would at the end of a race, so it sounded accurate to me. I returned to my paddock space and began the nut-and-bolt check for the afternoon's race.
I finished two items on the list and started to feel dizzy and exhausted. I realized that the cold was catching up to me, and it was not going down without a fight. I wrapped up in a blanket and a fleece sweatshirt and sat in the sun, shivering for about an hour. I actually felt much better after that little rest, so I set about finishing the preparations for the race. Everything was in order... except the exhaust header pipe from the #1 cylinder had a big crack in the tubing.
The exhaust header's primary job is to direct hot exhaust gasses out of the engine, away from things that need to be kept cool, and eventually out the back of the car via the tailpipe. It also plays a rather significant role in the performance of the engine. The correct length header tubes can work together, harmonizing the exhaust pulses and increasing the power output of the engine. A less appreciated duty of the exhaust header is to prevent cold outside air from coming in contact with the hot exhaust valves. If the header breaks, cold air can suddenly rush in, potentially cracking or bending the exhaust valve. If you've ever dunked a cold glass in steaming hot wash water, you have experienced this same kind of thermal shock: the glass breaks because of the extremely quick change of temperature.
I really like this cylinder head, and I don't want anything to happen to it. Pushing the car hard, especially on the undulating Grattan circuit, would almost certainly cause the cracked header to break. I had to drive as easily as possible, minimizing the bumps and jumps that make Grattan so much fun. I also had to go easy on the throttle, since pushing the engine too hard could also make the crack develop into a full fracture.
We watched the start of the first race group, and I noticed that they were taking a pace lap and a half. The false grid at Grattan enters the track at corner 3. The pace lap would take the field out onto the track at corner 3, make the rest of that lap, cross the start/finish line, then make another full lap before the green flag. I realized that was 4 miles of driving I didn't need to put on the car, so I spoke to the starters about starting from the pit lane after the green flag. I explained that the header was cracked and that I was feeling under the weather, and they were very nice and supportive -- "No problem, we'll take care of it," "Remember, you only need 8 laps to get a finish," "Good luck, hope it holds together," "Feel better!" I already felt better after talking to them.
While puttering around at 4000 rpm, I learned a few things. First, I learned that if I drive down the front straight at 4000 rpm instead of 7000 rpm, I can brake at my usual turn-in point and still make it through corner 1. I learned that there is so much used rubber off the racing line that if you drive down the front straight off the line and then try to carry some speed through corner 1, you get the feeling that you're driving through some kind of weird rubber storm with all the bits of rubber being thrown up by your tires. I also learned that if you drive ten laps at Grattan off the normal line, you gain about 5 pounds of used rubber.
I pulled in after 10 laps and went to Impound. Since there was only one other CFF there, I would get credit for a second place finish. The Impound workers gave me a cold washcloth and two bottles of water and insisted that I stay on the scales in the shade until the other cars were done racing.
The scoreboard for MC looks the same as it did before, but add 25 more points to my total. And it only cost one knee (Amy's -- injured on the trailer before we had gone one block), one nasty wasp sting (Amy again), one 1" strip of skin off my pinky finger (another boneheaded move during the gearchange), and one nasty head cold.
Next up: Showing off the car again, this time at a British car show in Palos Hills, IL on Sunday.
*The grid "closes" five minutes before the start of the race. If a car gets to the grid after the grid is closed, that car must start at the back of the pack.
ster, 1937 Rolls Royce PIII Aero Coupe, and my father's 1932 Packard Coupe Roadster), some great early cars (1902 Curved Dash Oldsmobile, 1926 Stanley "steamer", and a 1905 one-cylinder Cadillac), and competition cars, including my car. The show was carefully planned and staged so that the cars were displayed in groups emphasizing their similarities: finned cars were in a circle with the fins pointing outwards; roadsters were in a circle with the tops down; and competition cars were in a row from oldest (1927 Bugatti Grand Prix car) to newest (1979 Tiga Formula Ford). Proceeds from the show benefitted Jewish Family Services, who are eager to team up for a repeat next year.Labor Day weekend was unusual for me, to say the least. Races were being held at two tracks in Michigan: Midwestern Council ran at GingerMan in South Haven on Saturday, and SCCA ran two Regional races (Saturday and Sunday) at Grattan near Grand Rapids. I decided that going all the way to Michigan would make more sense if I ran both days. I wanted to get the points for Midwestern Council, and I needed to run more SCCA races to keep that license current. Since the tracks are roughly an hour or two apart, getting a hotel midway between them made sense. The Best Western in Holland turned out to be a great choice. Clean and quiet, with a jaccuzzi tub in the room! Very swank.
Saturday looked like it was going to be uneventful, but looks can deceive. I was the only Club Formula Ford entered, so all I needed to do was finish the race to get a win. I qualified in the thick of the usual group: Dave Knaack's D Sports Racer qualified in front of me, Frank Riemann's FF would be next to me, and Chuck Cassaro's Sports 2000 qualified behind me. When I checked over the car after qualifying, I found that the rear wheel hubs were loose again. I wasn't too concerned, since I know it's due to the relatively soft Brazilian hubs compressing and mushrooming due to the cornering forces that they were never designed for. All I'd have to do would be to retorque the axle nuts and I'd be ready to cruise to an easy win.
Someone once said, "Nothing easy is ever worthwhile." Maybe this was proof that what I'm doing is worthwhile, but when I tried to tighten the right rear axle nut, the threads stripped out of the nut. Bad timing. I don't carry a spare nut (but I will now), and I had about an hour and a half to get the car fixed for the race. I went through the paddock looking for anyone likely to have something to fit. It's an old VW Beetle part, so I checked with some VW Rabbit racers, Porsche drivers, and even the FV brigade, but no luck. As I returned to the Lindstrand Motorsports tent, Nicole Temple told me that a friend of theirs knew a local guy... He had one, but he was 45 minutes away, and the race was in an hour.
A couple of phone calls later, Patrick Ohmann arranged to meet Rob Ritt of Epicenter Design halfway between the track and his shop in Holland. As he sped off, I finished preparing the car and began arranging the details to get the car together and on the track as quickly as possible. Pat would install the new nut as I belted in the car, Nicole Temple from LMI would install the wheel, my roommate David Cox would lower the jack while Amy would take care of the jumpstart battery. All we needed now was the nut. While I waited for Pat and watched the minutes tick away, I mentally prepared myself to start from the pit lane after the other cars had taken the green flag, then just get the required number of laps to be considered a finisher. That was all I needed to do.
As the announcement came over the PA system that the grid for our race was closed*, Pat came running up to me with the new nut in his hand. I jumped in the car and held the brake pedal down as he tightened the nut as much as he dared. As I belted myself in, Nicole got the wheel on quicker than I've ever been able to do, and as I felt the car being lowered off the jack I hit the starter. The engine eagerly barked to life. I got the thumbs-up from Amy and drove toward the grid.
The grid configuration at GingerMan is a little odd. Due to a one-way lane, we had to drive the wrong way down the grid between the lines of cars, turn around, and then join the lineup. When I turned the corner to drive down between the cars, the crews for all the other cars pointed at me in disbelief and began applauding and cheering as though I had already won the race. It's amazing how much the other racers pull for you, even if they're trying to beat you on the track.
Since I was late to the grid, I started from the back. My plan was to just get the required laps, take it easy, get my finish, and pull in. But I don't know a racer who is able to keep his foot off the throttle when the green flag flies. Seeing a slower car disappear in your mirror is just too inspiring. When I got past the first car, I couldn't help trying to pass the next... then the next... I think I passed a car each lap for the first half of the race. I chased down all the cars gridded behind me and actually improved my finishing position by one spot.
We packed up the truck and loaded the trailer after the race to get back to the hotel for the night. I soaked in the jaccuzzi for a while until my throat started to burn a little, which I figured was due to breathing in all of the hot chlorinated water vaporizing all around me. When I woke up Sunday morning, I realized that it was really the start of a cold. There wasn't much I could do about it then except get some hot cider and oatmeal at the hotel's continental breakfast and hit the road to Grattan.
We got to Grattan right on time, got through Registration and Tech without any delays or difficulties, and found a great paddock spot without even looking. After we got the car unloaded I realized that I would have plenty of time to change the gears to suit the longer track. I got the gear change done in record time with Amy's help -- despite a boneheaded error on my part that cost me about 15 extra minutes -- and waited for the morning qualifying session.
Qualifying went well enough, but I didn't set the world on fire. I only needed to finish the race to fulfill the renewal requirements for my SCCA license, but I enjoy Grattan too much not to drive hard. Once I managed to match my best time from May, I cut my session short by a few minutes and pulled in, hoping to save the engine and tires a bit. I was sent to Impound for a spot-check, and I rolled across the scales at 1191 pounds. I had a few more gallons of fuel than I would at the end of a race, so it sounded accurate to me. I returned to my paddock space and began the nut-and-bolt check for the afternoon's race.
I finished two items on the list and started to feel dizzy and exhausted. I realized that the cold was catching up to me, and it was not going down without a fight. I wrapped up in a blanket and a fleece sweatshirt and sat in the sun, shivering for about an hour. I actually felt much better after that little rest, so I set about finishing the preparations for the race. Everything was in order... except the exhaust header pipe from the #1 cylinder had a big crack in the tubing.
The exhaust header's primary job is to direct hot exhaust gasses out of the engine, away from things that need to be kept cool, and eventually out the back of the car via the tailpipe. It also plays a rather significant role in the performance of the engine. The correct length header tubes can work together, harmonizing the exhaust pulses and increasing the power output of the engine. A less appreciated duty of the exhaust header is to prevent cold outside air from coming in contact with the hot exhaust valves. If the header breaks, cold air can suddenly rush in, potentially cracking or bending the exhaust valve. If you've ever dunked a cold glass in steaming hot wash water, you have experienced this same kind of thermal shock: the glass breaks because of the extremely quick change of temperature.
I really like this cylinder head, and I don't want anything to happen to it. Pushing the car hard, especially on the undulating Grattan circuit, would almost certainly cause the cracked header to break. I had to drive as easily as possible, minimizing the bumps and jumps that make Grattan so much fun. I also had to go easy on the throttle, since pushing the engine too hard could also make the crack develop into a full fracture.
We watched the start of the first race group, and I noticed that they were taking a pace lap and a half. The false grid at Grattan enters the track at corner 3. The pace lap would take the field out onto the track at corner 3, make the rest of that lap, cross the start/finish line, then make another full lap before the green flag. I realized that was 4 miles of driving I didn't need to put on the car, so I spoke to the starters about starting from the pit lane after the green flag. I explained that the header was cracked and that I was feeling under the weather, and they were very nice and supportive -- "No problem, we'll take care of it," "Remember, you only need 8 laps to get a finish," "Good luck, hope it holds together," "Feel better!" I already felt better after talking to them.
While puttering around at 4000 rpm, I learned a few things. First, I learned that if I drive down the front straight at 4000 rpm instead of 7000 rpm, I can brake at my usual turn-in point and still make it through corner 1. I learned that there is so much used rubber off the racing line that if you drive down the front straight off the line and then try to carry some speed through corner 1, you get the feeling that you're driving through some kind of weird rubber storm with all the bits of rubber being thrown up by your tires. I also learned that if you drive ten laps at Grattan off the normal line, you gain about 5 pounds of used rubber.
I pulled in after 10 laps and went to Impound. Since there was only one other CFF there, I would get credit for a second place finish. The Impound workers gave me a cold washcloth and two bottles of water and insisted that I stay on the scales in the shade until the other cars were done racing.
The scoreboard for MC looks the same as it did before, but add 25 more points to my total. And it only cost one knee (Amy's -- injured on the trailer before we had gone one block), one nasty wasp sting (Amy again), one 1" strip of skin off my pinky finger (another boneheaded move during the gearchange), and one nasty head cold.
Next up: Showing off the car again, this time at a British car show in Palos Hills, IL on Sunday.
*The grid "closes" five minutes before the start of the race. If a car gets to the grid after the grid is closed, that car must start at the back of the pack.
Monday, August 22, 2005
The Racetrack at the End of the Universe
I confess, I didn't get the joke until I saw the graphics on Pete Wood's car: "Arthur Dent" and "Ford Prefect" on the sides... and then he wore a bathrobe to the drivers' meeting. Too bad nobody else got the joke even after that. The title of the race was a play on the title of a book in a series that enjoyed a cult following in the '80s. The central character, Arthur Dent, is a normal Englishman who finds himself a passenger on a spaceship with his new friend Ford Prefect while wearing his bathrobe. Or something like that. I've only read the first book in the series, and it's been a long time since I read that one. (Pete has even run car number 42 for years, which will mean something to those who have read the book.)
We were the fifth group to hit the track, which left plenty of time for worrying and second-guessing about the repairs we had just completed. I did my best to stay calm and rational while I waited for our group to be called to the grid. The car was ready, and I had to trust that we had done everything correctly.
Practice went very well despite some oil on the track in a couple of corners. I managed to keep up with a yellow and blue Sports 2000 -- a much faster car* -- for several laps, which shocked me... until I found out that it was being driven by a racer who had never driven a mid-engined, right-hand-drive car. He is used to the front-engine V8 sedans that he's raced for years, and he was busy learning that the techniques are very different.
Debbie Campbell, a co-worker at Pegasus Auto Racing Supplies, arrived after practice with her parents, who had never been to Blackhawk before. Her father and I chatted about racing while she and her mother chatted with my mother about dogs. Debbie used to show dogs all over the country, and my mother is a dog training instructor, so they had plenty to talk about.
For qualifying I asked my parents to once again time Pete while I monitored my own times on my on-board lap timer. The best number I saw on the pit board was 1:20, while my fastest qualifying time was a 1:18.89. I knew I had turned a few laps in the :19s, so I was confident that I had the pole. The grid sheet confirmed it: I turned a 1:18.89, and Pete's best was a 1:20.26.
Between the qualifying session and the race, there is generally enough time to give the car a thorough inspection and repair most problems that may show up. The between-session checklist includes such things as bleeding the brakes, checking the wheel bearings and rod ends, and retightening any fasteners that may have worked loose. Everything was pretty much normal, with the same old bolts working themselves loose, everything else staying tight as usual, but the right rear hub was suddenly loose. The hub I've been using is a modified VW piece that just doesn't seem to be holding up too well to the stresses of racing. Oh well... take off the wheel, remove the cotter pin, have Dad hold the brakes, torque the axle nut down again, new cotter pin, wheel back on... wow, that's a lot easier and quicker with two people! When it's a one-person operation, you jack up the car, remove the wheel, remove the cotter pin, put the wheel back on, lower the car, somehow stop the wheel from turning -- usually by locking the transmission in two gears at once (a big job on its own) -- tighten the nut, unlock the transmission, jack up the car, take off the wheel, put in a fresh pin, wheel back on, car back down...
The car was ready in plenty of time for the race. I had enough time to watch a couple of other groups race, including the Formula Vee / Spec Racer group, where I used to run. The polesitting Vee, driven by Hal Adkins, spun or got hit on the first lap. By the time the pack went through corner 4, he was at least 15 seconds behind the back of the pack. He drove like a madman, gaining huge chunks of time every lap. Within about 10 laps, he had regained the lead. I confess that Hal is one reason I got out of FV. I realized that I would probably never be able to beat him, at least not with the car I had. I still joke with him that I had to move up a class to have any chance to keep up with him.
We gridded for our race and waited in the cars for ten or fifteen minutes while the safety crews cleaned up after the group before ours. I don't know what it was about this weekend, but every single group -- including ours -- had an incident (or multiple incidents), stranded cars, or blown engines that needed to be cleaned up and cleared away before the next group could hit the track. It was unusual to say the least, and it got us so far off schedule that the last three races had to be shortened by five minutes each and victory laps were cancelled.
I gridded directly behind the yellow and blue Sports 2000 I had followed in practice, and Pete lined up next to me. I was a little concerned that the driver in front of me still wouldn't be familiar enough with the gearbox and might miss a shift on the start. That would give Pete a clear advantage of several car lengths at best -- a good reason for Pete to hope for it. I got lucky, and everyone in front of us got away cleanly. I got a slight edge on Pete and crowded him just a little bit exiting corner 1 to try to keep him behind me. As the race progressed, some cars fell off the track here and there. On the second lap, corner 6 was waving their yellow flag, indicating that there was something dangerous or someone vulnerable on the track or near the track. I slowed and tiptoed around the corner, looking for the incident that caused the flag... but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The next lap, corner 6 still had their yellow flag out, but this time I saw a driver standing next to the track. Apparently he had spun exiting the corner and his car went into the weeds about 50 feet off the track. The car was completely hidden by the foliage, and it stayed there for the rest of the race.
My father was showing me the gap times between Pete and me on the pit board -- :03, :04, :06. About halfway through the race, the board showed :13... and my oil pressure gauge suddenly dropped! The rule of thumb for oil pressure is to have 10psi per 1000rpm. Since we spin the Formula Ford engines to 6000rpm, 60psi would be ideal, but most of us settle for 40psi. My car had 40psi all day, but suddenly it dropped to 20psi. Better than nothing, but it seemed to me that if it started dropping, it was likely to drop the rest of the way to zero. I tried everything I could to nurse the engine, keeping the revs as low as I could while still conserving speed. I don't know which would have been a more disappointing sight in my mirrors: Blue-white smoke indicating a blown motor, or the purple nose of Pete's car!
The car held together and the oil pressure didn't drop any farther. I finished about 10 seconds ahead of Pete and shut the car off as soon as I could. Now to diagnose just what happened and what we need to do about it...
The points now look like this:
* A Sports 2000 is a little hard to describe. Imagine a formula car, with a 2.0-liter Ford engine in the back, but with two seats and fiberglass fenders. The design of the fenders can make the car handle better than a Formula Ford, and the larger engine gives it better acceleration and top speed.
We were the fifth group to hit the track, which left plenty of time for worrying and second-guessing about the repairs we had just completed. I did my best to stay calm and rational while I waited for our group to be called to the grid. The car was ready, and I had to trust that we had done everything correctly.
Practice went very well despite some oil on the track in a couple of corners. I managed to keep up with a yellow and blue Sports 2000 -- a much faster car* -- for several laps, which shocked me... until I found out that it was being driven by a racer who had never driven a mid-engined, right-hand-drive car. He is used to the front-engine V8 sedans that he's raced for years, and he was busy learning that the techniques are very different.
Debbie Campbell, a co-worker at Pegasus Auto Racing Supplies, arrived after practice with her parents, who had never been to Blackhawk before. Her father and I chatted about racing while she and her mother chatted with my mother about dogs. Debbie used to show dogs all over the country, and my mother is a dog training instructor, so they had plenty to talk about.
For qualifying I asked my parents to once again time Pete while I monitored my own times on my on-board lap timer. The best number I saw on the pit board was 1:20, while my fastest qualifying time was a 1:18.89. I knew I had turned a few laps in the :19s, so I was confident that I had the pole. The grid sheet confirmed it: I turned a 1:18.89, and Pete's best was a 1:20.26.
Between the qualifying session and the race, there is generally enough time to give the car a thorough inspection and repair most problems that may show up. The between-session checklist includes such things as bleeding the brakes, checking the wheel bearings and rod ends, and retightening any fasteners that may have worked loose. Everything was pretty much normal, with the same old bolts working themselves loose, everything else staying tight as usual, but the right rear hub was suddenly loose. The hub I've been using is a modified VW piece that just doesn't seem to be holding up too well to the stresses of racing. Oh well... take off the wheel, remove the cotter pin, have Dad hold the brakes, torque the axle nut down again, new cotter pin, wheel back on... wow, that's a lot easier and quicker with two people! When it's a one-person operation, you jack up the car, remove the wheel, remove the cotter pin, put the wheel back on, lower the car, somehow stop the wheel from turning -- usually by locking the transmission in two gears at once (a big job on its own) -- tighten the nut, unlock the transmission, jack up the car, take off the wheel, put in a fresh pin, wheel back on, car back down...
The car was ready in plenty of time for the race. I had enough time to watch a couple of other groups race, including the Formula Vee / Spec Racer group, where I used to run. The polesitting Vee, driven by Hal Adkins, spun or got hit on the first lap. By the time the pack went through corner 4, he was at least 15 seconds behind the back of the pack. He drove like a madman, gaining huge chunks of time every lap. Within about 10 laps, he had regained the lead. I confess that Hal is one reason I got out of FV. I realized that I would probably never be able to beat him, at least not with the car I had. I still joke with him that I had to move up a class to have any chance to keep up with him.
We gridded for our race and waited in the cars for ten or fifteen minutes while the safety crews cleaned up after the group before ours. I don't know what it was about this weekend, but every single group -- including ours -- had an incident (or multiple incidents), stranded cars, or blown engines that needed to be cleaned up and cleared away before the next group could hit the track. It was unusual to say the least, and it got us so far off schedule that the last three races had to be shortened by five minutes each and victory laps were cancelled.
I gridded directly behind the yellow and blue Sports 2000 I had followed in practice, and Pete lined up next to me. I was a little concerned that the driver in front of me still wouldn't be familiar enough with the gearbox and might miss a shift on the start. That would give Pete a clear advantage of several car lengths at best -- a good reason for Pete to hope for it. I got lucky, and everyone in front of us got away cleanly. I got a slight edge on Pete and crowded him just a little bit exiting corner 1 to try to keep him behind me. As the race progressed, some cars fell off the track here and there. On the second lap, corner 6 was waving their yellow flag, indicating that there was something dangerous or someone vulnerable on the track or near the track. I slowed and tiptoed around the corner, looking for the incident that caused the flag... but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The next lap, corner 6 still had their yellow flag out, but this time I saw a driver standing next to the track. Apparently he had spun exiting the corner and his car went into the weeds about 50 feet off the track. The car was completely hidden by the foliage, and it stayed there for the rest of the race.
My father was showing me the gap times between Pete and me on the pit board -- :03, :04, :06. About halfway through the race, the board showed :13... and my oil pressure gauge suddenly dropped! The rule of thumb for oil pressure is to have 10psi per 1000rpm. Since we spin the Formula Ford engines to 6000rpm, 60psi would be ideal, but most of us settle for 40psi. My car had 40psi all day, but suddenly it dropped to 20psi. Better than nothing, but it seemed to me that if it started dropping, it was likely to drop the rest of the way to zero. I tried everything I could to nurse the engine, keeping the revs as low as I could while still conserving speed. I don't know which would have been a more disappointing sight in my mirrors: Blue-white smoke indicating a blown motor, or the purple nose of Pete's car!
The car held together and the oil pressure didn't drop any farther. I finished about 10 seconds ahead of Pete and shut the car off as soon as I could. Now to diagnose just what happened and what we need to do about it...
The points now look like this:
- John Haydon: 150
- Pete Wood: 125
- Michael Schindlbeck: 69
- Denis Downs: 33
- Scott Reif: 33
- Larry Noble: 17
- Jon Borkowski: 16
- Paul Schindlbeck: 16
- Dick Plank: 13
- Bob Fleming: 8
Next stop: Milwaukee's lakefront, Veteran's Park, for the "Masterpiece Style & Speed Showcase" car show.
* A Sports 2000 is a little hard to describe. Imagine a formula car, with a 2.0-liter Ford engine in the back, but with two seats and fiberglass fenders. The design of the fenders can make the car handle better than a Formula Ford, and the larger engine gives it better acceleration and top speed.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Friday
The car is on the trailer and ready to run! Sunday is the 7th Midwestern Council race of the season, once again at Blackhawk. I'm looking forward to being back at my "home" track with the crowd I've known for years.
Not to imply that the crowd I've run with lately is any less than a great bunch, but I know the MC regulars well enough to anticipate what they will do in a lot of situations, and they know me as well. There have been a few situations at the last couple of races where I just wasn't sure how a driver would react to being passed on the outside of the Carousel, for example. Or just how early I'd have to brake to get him to take the line going into corner 5 so we could both carry some speed through instead of tiptoeing through side-by-side. Or whether he would try that optimistic pass going into corner 3...
Not to imply that the crowd I've run with lately is any less than a great bunch, but I know the MC regulars well enough to anticipate what they will do in a lot of situations, and they know me as well. There have been a few situations at the last couple of races where I just wasn't sure how a driver would react to being passed on the outside of the Carousel, for example. Or just how early I'd have to brake to get him to take the line going into corner 5 so we could both carry some speed through instead of tiptoeing through side-by-side. Or whether he would try that optimistic pass going into corner 3...
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Transmission Externals
I'm still not an engineer, but the Internet can be a wonderful tool -- and there's nothing more dangerous than a tool in the hands of someone who thinks he knows what he's doing.
According to a fascinating article on the Key to Steel website, the breakage of the input shaft shows some characteristics of a "brittle fracture":
According to a fascinating article on the Key to Steel website, the breakage of the input shaft shows some characteristics of a "brittle fracture":
"Brittle fracture is characterised by the very small amount of work absorbed and
by a crystalline appearance of the surfaces of fracture, often with a chevron
pattern pointing to the origin of fracture, due to the formation of
discontinuous cleavage cracks which join up. It can occur at a low stress of
75-120 MPa with great suddenness; the velocity of crack propagation is probably
not far from that of sound in the material. In this type of fracture plastic
deformation is very small, and the crack need not open up considerably in order
to propagate, as is necessary with a ductile failure."
I'll just repeat the bit that really struck me: This thing broke apart at close
to the speed of sound. No, the fragments didn't necessarily go that fast (and
neither did I), but that's how suddenly the shaft broke, and that explains why
it looks like a grenade went off inside it.
On very close inspection, I can see several cracks at seemingly random angles to the breakage. It does show some signs of "ductile failure," where metal stretches as it is pulled, bent, or twisted apart. Some of the splines are bent, stretched, or twisted, although the surfaces between the fragments show no such signs. That makes some sense. As part of the shaft broke, neighboring areas were stretching to accomodate the change of shape. This same thing happens when you break a glass -- the definition of brittle -- the glass actually deforms a little before it breaks, which is why the pieces never fit together quite right again.
The good news is that the car is nearly together again. The two big pieces of car were reunited last night, and all that remains is a quick alignment check, gear change, and brake and clutch bleeding.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Transmission Internals
There's a strange phenomenon that affects people who do repair work. Some call it a philosophy of "as long as"-ism, while others call it an illness, "might as well"-itis. It always begins with a necessary repair which requires disassembly of the item needing repair. The next step -- or several steps -- are characterized by repeated cries of, "As long as it's apart..." and "We might as well replace..." The final step is either a good-as-new item that will not need maintenance for a long time, or else a never-ending money pit.
I try to avoid falling victim to "might as well"-itis while at the same time keeping a healthy amount of "as long as"-ism. In this case, the "as long as"-ism involves having the transmission off the car -- a big project that we hope not to have to do again until the off-season. "As long as" we have the transmission off, we "might as well" replace these parts we now have easy access to... and we "might as well" repair that part that we couldn't reach before... and we "might as well" clean up inside this hidden area...
Opening the transmisssion to replace the input shaft gives us acces to such things as the clutch, the input shaft oil seal, several crevices which collect dirt and oil, the differential and final drive, and the inside of the transmission case. It makes sense to replace the clutch now, since it is a consumable item and mine has outlived the clutches in several competitors' cars. The input shaft oil seal has been seeping a little more oil every weekend, making a bigger and bigger mess to clean up after each race. The differential and final drive deserve to be inspected for any signs of damage or stress -- especially after having bits of the input shaft thrown around inside the gearbox.
There are plenty of other projects we could add on now, but none of them are important enough to risk missing the next race if they don't go as planned. For example, the filler plug in the top of the transmission case had been jammed in and stripped by a previous owner. Since we have access to the inside of the case, we could drill out the plug, catching any shavings that fall into the case, and replace the plug. But having access through that plug is not critical, and if the project doesn't go well, we could end up needing a new transmission case. We wouldn't be able to get a new one before the weekend, and setting up a new case is an expensive, time-consuming operation. Maybe we'll try that plug during the winter.
Everything else looks to be in good shape, so as soon as we can get all the RTV sealant cleaned off the sideplate, we should be ready to begin reassembly tonight. The new oil seal is in, the rest of the new parts are on the bench, and the fragments have been cleaned out of the transmission.
I try to avoid falling victim to "might as well"-itis while at the same time keeping a healthy amount of "as long as"-ism. In this case, the "as long as"-ism involves having the transmission off the car -- a big project that we hope not to have to do again until the off-season. "As long as" we have the transmission off, we "might as well" replace these parts we now have easy access to... and we "might as well" repair that part that we couldn't reach before... and we "might as well" clean up inside this hidden area...
Opening the transmisssion to replace the input shaft gives us acces to such things as the clutch, the input shaft oil seal, several crevices which collect dirt and oil, the differential and final drive, and the inside of the transmission case. It makes sense to replace the clutch now, since it is a consumable item and mine has outlived the clutches in several competitors' cars. The input shaft oil seal has been seeping a little more oil every weekend, making a bigger and bigger mess to clean up after each race. The differential and final drive deserve to be inspected for any signs of damage or stress -- especially after having bits of the input shaft thrown around inside the gearbox.
There are plenty of other projects we could add on now, but none of them are important enough to risk missing the next race if they don't go as planned. For example, the filler plug in the top of the transmission case had been jammed in and stripped by a previous owner. Since we have access to the inside of the case, we could drill out the plug, catching any shavings that fall into the case, and replace the plug. But having access through that plug is not critical, and if the project doesn't go well, we could end up needing a new transmission case. We wouldn't be able to get a new one before the weekend, and setting up a new case is an expensive, time-consuming operation. Maybe we'll try that plug during the winter.
Everything else looks to be in good shape, so as soon as we can get all the RTV sealant cleaned off the sideplate, we should be ready to begin reassembly tonight. The new oil seal is in, the rest of the new parts are on the bench, and the fragments have been cleaned out of the transmission.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Bad News
When we pulled the gearbox last night, we found that the clutch disc is actually just fine. The input shaft had broken.
I have no experience with metallurgy or stress analysis, so I have no idea if this is a sudden catastrophic failure or a gradual breakage. The books I've read have described gradual fatigue fractures as having a visible progression to them; you can see where the initial crack started and how it progressed across the part, until there wasn't enough intact material to take the stress, leaving the last bit to break suddenly with a jagged edge. On the other hand, the sudden catastrophic failures they illustrate show a clean break, with no clear beginning, middle, or end.
The shaft looks almost like a piece of clay that was torn from another piece. There are jagged valleys and sharp ridges radiating from the center, suggesting that the shaft was pulled apart rather than twisted apart. Perhaps the twisting apart is what raised the ridges; I don't know. The transmission is coming apart tonight. With a little luck, the new input shaft will be in and the gearbox will at least be ready to reinstall by the end of the evening.
I have no experience with metallurgy or stress analysis, so I have no idea if this is a sudden catastrophic failure or a gradual breakage. The books I've read have described gradual fatigue fractures as having a visible progression to them; you can see where the initial crack started and how it progressed across the part, until there wasn't enough intact material to take the stress, leaving the last bit to break suddenly with a jagged edge. On the other hand, the sudden catastrophic failures they illustrate show a clean break, with no clear beginning, middle, or end.
The shaft looks almost like a piece of clay that was torn from another piece. There are jagged valleys and sharp ridges radiating from the center, suggesting that the shaft was pulled apart rather than twisted apart. Perhaps the twisting apart is what raised the ridges; I don't know. The transmission is coming apart tonight. With a little luck, the new input shaft will be in and the gearbox will at least be ready to reinstall by the end of the evening.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Kettle Moraine Double: Sunday
Information from the weekend is still filtering in from various sources. Two cars who I thought had tangled in The Kink on the first lap of Saturday's race actually had a very different story. One car had a wheel come loose and lock up in The Kink, sending him spinning. The second car came through at full speed and saw the disabled car in the middle of the track. He barely had time to avoid him at all, and unfortunately avoiding him meant sending himself into the wall, destroying his own car for the sake of the other driver.
Sunday began warmer than Saturday by a few degrees, but it was still not hot. My mother came up to watch and help out. I went out for the morning qualifying session and tried to stay with a group of fast cars. I was able to hang with them during the first lap, but as we approached corner 13, when I shifted to 3rd gear, the car didn't go any faster. I tried to select 3rd gear again, just to make sure I hadn't missed, but no difference. I tried 4th gear with the same results. The linkage could have come undone, or something in the transmission could have broken. I tried 2nd gear just to be sure. I could feel that the transmission did in fact select 2nd gear, but the car still wouldn't accelerate. Some connection between the engine and the transmission (or between the transmission and the rear wheels) must have broken.
My theory is that the clutch disc splines have probably stripped. This clutch disc has seen at least two seasons of use, maybe more. So I learned something: Replace the clutch disc every season, and don't worry about it again! Replacing the disc should be a relatively inexpensive repair, fairly easy to do, but it wouldn't be a good job to do at the track. Several people offered to help change the clutch, and we could have done it before lunch, but I decided that it was time to sit back and just watch the race.
I think I was better off sitting in the bleachers than I would have been in the driver's seat. Of 45 cars entered, 38 started the race and only 27 were still running at the finish. Between what I saw and what I was told, about 5 or 6 cars were damaged or destroyed. Add that to Saturday's toll, and almost a dozen cars will need major repairs before they can race again. A few of those may never see the track again. I have been told that all the drivers are uninjured.
Speedy Petey grabbed 4th in CFF on Sunday. He could have had 3rd, but he got stuck in a battle for 4th while 1st through 3rd pulled away. Allen Wheatcroft got 9th in FF, and I think he turned his best-ever lap time in the process. Good job guys!
Sunday began warmer than Saturday by a few degrees, but it was still not hot. My mother came up to watch and help out. I went out for the morning qualifying session and tried to stay with a group of fast cars. I was able to hang with them during the first lap, but as we approached corner 13, when I shifted to 3rd gear, the car didn't go any faster. I tried to select 3rd gear again, just to make sure I hadn't missed, but no difference. I tried 4th gear with the same results. The linkage could have come undone, or something in the transmission could have broken. I tried 2nd gear just to be sure. I could feel that the transmission did in fact select 2nd gear, but the car still wouldn't accelerate. Some connection between the engine and the transmission (or between the transmission and the rear wheels) must have broken.
My theory is that the clutch disc splines have probably stripped. This clutch disc has seen at least two seasons of use, maybe more. So I learned something: Replace the clutch disc every season, and don't worry about it again! Replacing the disc should be a relatively inexpensive repair, fairly easy to do, but it wouldn't be a good job to do at the track. Several people offered to help change the clutch, and we could have done it before lunch, but I decided that it was time to sit back and just watch the race.
I think I was better off sitting in the bleachers than I would have been in the driver's seat. Of 45 cars entered, 38 started the race and only 27 were still running at the finish. Between what I saw and what I was told, about 5 or 6 cars were damaged or destroyed. Add that to Saturday's toll, and almost a dozen cars will need major repairs before they can race again. A few of those may never see the track again. I have been told that all the drivers are uninjured.
Speedy Petey grabbed 4th in CFF on Sunday. He could have had 3rd, but he got stuck in a battle for 4th while 1st through 3rd pulled away. Allen Wheatcroft got 9th in FF, and I think he turned his best-ever lap time in the process. Good job guys!
Kettle Moraine Double Regional: Saturday
Win or learn something. I didn't win on Saturday, but I learned something important on Sunday.
The Saturday morning qualifying session at Road America started poorly. The track was very slippery and had a visible line of oil all the way around. We spent the first two laps sliding around, trying not to spin. The track was scrubbed off pretty well by the third lap, but then cars started going off everywhere. I'm not quite sure how that works. No traction, everyone stays on the track. Get traction back, people start spinning off. There were so many yellow flags, it was basically impossible to pass the slower cars or get into a rhythm. I had to settle for 5th on the CFF grid with a 2:44, six seconds slower than my time in July. But this weekend was about relaxing and having fun racing, so my starting position wasn't that important.
My father and I began working on the car to get ready for the race, and we were just starting to think about lunch when Cindy Lindstrand came buzzing up on a scooter and handed us a plate with two Italian beef sandwiches, leftovers from the big Lindstrand Motorsports lunch. They go all out for their drivers, and they're willing to share the leftovers with people like me. Thanks, Cindy, they were great!
As we ate, the sky got darker and the breeze suddenly got much cooler. The temperature dipped from about 75 to below 70 in just a few minutes. The rain started during the race for big GT cars (Corvettes, Camaros, Mustangs, Cobras -- the big fire-breathing V8s). The huge horsepower and wide, slick tires made the slightly slippery conditions downright treacherous, and cars were sliding everywhere. Formula Ford tires are much narrower and we have much less horsepower, but racing any car with slick tires on a wet track is an adventure. I asked my father for advice, and he pointed out that there were no puddles. Rain tires generally work only if there is standing water on the track. If the pavement is only damp, the rain tires will overheat and come apart. As we were discussing it, the rain stopped. The sun came out and the track dried completely before we went out.
I gridded next to Allen Wheatcroft's red Van Diemen FF, in front of Pete Wood's Crossle CFF, pretty much in the middle of the pack. The pace lap was a little slow, but not at all bad. The pack seemed to be well grouped, but when we slowed and just about stopped for corner 5, Allen's car stalled. He got it going again eventually, but he wasn't able to get back to his grid position before the start.
The car in front of me seemed to be much too slow, but I couldn't get around him. I lost three positions in class on the first lap while following him. Every corner, I felt I could have gone faster than he did, but he would just pull away from me on the straights. Two other cars were stuck behind him with me, and we were all looking for a way around him. Finally we passed him, and then the other two cars passed me (no problem, they were in a different class). The first lap we were clear of him, I turned a 2:38. Within a couple of laps, I caught up to and passed Bill Ehrlinger and Michael Neylon, both in CFFs, which got me back up to 5th place.
As the race progressed, cars began to accumulate at the corner stations and along the walls. Two cars nearly tangled in The Kink, a very high-speed corner where going off track usually means hitting the concrete wall, hard -- and one of them did just that. A third car joined them about halfway through the race. Another car got hit in corner 3. A car pulled off in corner 12, smoke still rising from the engine. Fiberglass bodywork littered the track at corner 14. A car spun in corner 5 and couldn't get off the damp grass without spinning again. Corner 12 was yellow for several laps while they pulled a car out of the gravel trap. I could see that several cars would not be back out for Sunday.
The car ran well and handled great. Almost every time I followed a car around the Carousel turn or through The Kink, I felt like I could have just driven right around them. In fact, most of the passes I made were driving around cars in the Carousel. The car is so stable and forgiving and solid!
Next update: The Kettle Moraine Double Regional, Sunday...
The Saturday morning qualifying session at Road America started poorly. The track was very slippery and had a visible line of oil all the way around. We spent the first two laps sliding around, trying not to spin. The track was scrubbed off pretty well by the third lap, but then cars started going off everywhere. I'm not quite sure how that works. No traction, everyone stays on the track. Get traction back, people start spinning off. There were so many yellow flags, it was basically impossible to pass the slower cars or get into a rhythm. I had to settle for 5th on the CFF grid with a 2:44, six seconds slower than my time in July. But this weekend was about relaxing and having fun racing, so my starting position wasn't that important.
My father and I began working on the car to get ready for the race, and we were just starting to think about lunch when Cindy Lindstrand came buzzing up on a scooter and handed us a plate with two Italian beef sandwiches, leftovers from the big Lindstrand Motorsports lunch. They go all out for their drivers, and they're willing to share the leftovers with people like me. Thanks, Cindy, they were great!
As we ate, the sky got darker and the breeze suddenly got much cooler. The temperature dipped from about 75 to below 70 in just a few minutes. The rain started during the race for big GT cars (Corvettes, Camaros, Mustangs, Cobras -- the big fire-breathing V8s). The huge horsepower and wide, slick tires made the slightly slippery conditions downright treacherous, and cars were sliding everywhere. Formula Ford tires are much narrower and we have much less horsepower, but racing any car with slick tires on a wet track is an adventure. I asked my father for advice, and he pointed out that there were no puddles. Rain tires generally work only if there is standing water on the track. If the pavement is only damp, the rain tires will overheat and come apart. As we were discussing it, the rain stopped. The sun came out and the track dried completely before we went out.
I gridded next to Allen Wheatcroft's red Van Diemen FF, in front of Pete Wood's Crossle CFF, pretty much in the middle of the pack. The pace lap was a little slow, but not at all bad. The pack seemed to be well grouped, but when we slowed and just about stopped for corner 5, Allen's car stalled. He got it going again eventually, but he wasn't able to get back to his grid position before the start.
The car in front of me seemed to be much too slow, but I couldn't get around him. I lost three positions in class on the first lap while following him. Every corner, I felt I could have gone faster than he did, but he would just pull away from me on the straights. Two other cars were stuck behind him with me, and we were all looking for a way around him. Finally we passed him, and then the other two cars passed me (no problem, they were in a different class). The first lap we were clear of him, I turned a 2:38. Within a couple of laps, I caught up to and passed Bill Ehrlinger and Michael Neylon, both in CFFs, which got me back up to 5th place.
As the race progressed, cars began to accumulate at the corner stations and along the walls. Two cars nearly tangled in The Kink, a very high-speed corner where going off track usually means hitting the concrete wall, hard -- and one of them did just that. A third car joined them about halfway through the race. Another car got hit in corner 3. A car pulled off in corner 12, smoke still rising from the engine. Fiberglass bodywork littered the track at corner 14. A car spun in corner 5 and couldn't get off the damp grass without spinning again. Corner 12 was yellow for several laps while they pulled a car out of the gravel trap. I could see that several cars would not be back out for Sunday.
The car ran well and handled great. Almost every time I followed a car around the Carousel turn or through The Kink, I felt like I could have just driven right around them. In fact, most of the passes I made were driving around cars in the Carousel. The car is so stable and forgiving and solid!
Next update: The Kettle Moraine Double Regional, Sunday...
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