It looked like it was going to be a great weekend for racing. We got the same paddock spot as we had for the last Blackhawk National race, and Saturday promised to be sunny, warm, and dry (for most of the day, anyway).
The first qualifying session went fairly well, but a nasty old problem resurfaced. The oil pressure slowly dropped from a pretty-good 40 psi at the beginning of the session to a dismal 20 psi by the end of the session. I wouldn't have been too worried except that we ran into a very similar problem last year, with very bad results. I got down to a 1:21, which was within three seconds of my best lap time, despite running much older tires. Still, that put me 10th out of 11 in the class.
We checked over the car for the second qualifying session and put on softer tires in an attempt to at least get close to 9th place. I also cranked the oil pressure relief valve screw in, hoping to boost the oil pressure a little. When I started the engine for the second session, the needle on the oil pressure gauge jumped to a very promising 80 psi, but then it began wagging back and forth between 30 and 50 psi as the engine idled. That seemed to be an improvement over the morning.
I followed Allen Wheatcroft for part of the session. His car wasn't handling well during the test day on Friday, and that had taken away a lot of his confidence. He just didn't feel like he could trust the car. That worked to my advantage, allowing me to draft him for several laps before he pulled in. I stayed out for a few more laps and turned a 1:20, which was faster than Allen's time in that session, but slower than his time in the morning session. I was still gridded 10th of 11, and the oil pressure was now hovering around 20 psi at 6000 rpm and dropping to single digits at idle.
We checked over the car again, and this time we also pulled the oil filter to look for any signs of bearing damage. The oil that drained from the filter housing was sparkly with tiny metallic bits, which was normal if a little excessive. The damning evidence was spotted inside the filter by Bruce Lindstrand: larger copper flakes, each one only a little bigger than the dot that a medium-point ball pen would make on a piece of paper. You could probably get one caught under a fingernail and never even notice it.
Those little flakes are shavings of material from the inner layers of the bearing shell. When the crankshaft has worn through the silver/grey outer layer and has begun scraping out the copper underneath, that means the engine is not long for this world. The crankshaft depends on the bearing shells for support. Racing the engine after that support is scraped away will subject the spinning crankshaft to horribly stressful forces and will eventually result in in a bent (or broken) crank and a damaged block. That's exactly what happened last year.
The wagging oil pressure needle now seemed to make sense. If the crank were already bent, the off-center journal would swing around inside the remains of the bearing shell, alternately getting very close to the oil passage (creating a tighter clearance and boosting oil pressure) and swinging away (opening the clearance and dropping the oil pressure). At idle, this could happen slowly enough to register as visible pulses in oil pressure. What a revolting development this is.
We put the car back on the trailer and called it a weekend. I later heard through the grapevine that Bruce Lindstrand drove another inspired race to finish 3rd in a very fast crowd. For someone who isn't out there to win, he's been finishing awfully close to the front.
Now we play the "If" game. IF the crank is not bent and the block is not damaged, we will replace the bearings (with a different brand, I think) and get back out fairly soon, depending on the budget. IF the crank is bent but the block is in good shape (unlikely), I will look into one of the new forged crankshafts which are supposed to be stronger than the old cast cranks I've been running. IF the crank and the block are both bad, then I may be out for good. These blocks haven't been made for about 20 years, and there are just no more available.
Besides, with the luck I've had with the Kent, I'm ready to start shopping for a Honda engine instead.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
SCCA National FF Points
I forgot to include the SCCA National Points standings for Central Division Formula Ford yesterday. This is after 3 races, and including points won in races outside CenDiv:
1. Marc Blanc, Swift DB-6, 24 points
2. Bruce Lindstrand, Van Diemen RF-92, 23
3. Lynn Serra, Crossle 50F, 19
4. Mark Davison, Swift DB-1, 17
5. John Vlasis, Piper DF2, 13
6. Tim Wise, Swift DB-6, 12
7. John Haydon, Tiga FFA-80, 11
T8. Wes Allen, Merlyn Mk 25, 9
T8. John Luxon, Piper DF2, 9
T8. Russ Ruedisuelli, Van Diemen RF-99K, 9
11. Allen Wheatcroft, Van Diemen RF-98K, 3
12. Dan Faust, Van Diemen RF-93, 0
I'm not aiming for the #1 spot here. The top 10 drivers in the division get an invitation to the Runoffs, the championship shootout race in October. My goal is to be in the top 10.
Last night's weather forecast for the weekend was very promising. Sunny and 70 degrees. As of this afternoon, "sunny" has been replaced with "chance of rain" for Saturday. Yeesh.
1. Marc Blanc, Swift DB-6, 24 points
2. Bruce Lindstrand, Van Diemen RF-92, 23
3. Lynn Serra, Crossle 50F, 19
4. Mark Davison, Swift DB-1, 17
5. John Vlasis, Piper DF2, 13
6. Tim Wise, Swift DB-6, 12
7. John Haydon, Tiga FFA-80, 11
T8. Wes Allen, Merlyn Mk 25, 9
T8. John Luxon, Piper DF2, 9
T8. Russ Ruedisuelli, Van Diemen RF-99K, 9
11. Allen Wheatcroft, Van Diemen RF-98K, 3
12. Dan Faust, Van Diemen RF-93, 0
I'm not aiming for the #1 spot here. The top 10 drivers in the division get an invitation to the Runoffs, the championship shootout race in October. My goal is to be in the top 10.
Last night's weather forecast for the weekend was very promising. Sunny and 70 degrees. As of this afternoon, "sunny" has been replaced with "chance of rain" for Saturday. Yeesh.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Squish, squish, slide, slide
I think I'm almost getting back in the groove with this whole driving thing.
Last weekend was an SCCA National race at Grattan, Michigan. It was another rainy, soggy weekend. On the plus side, the high winds that whipped the area on Thursday had died down by Friday, leaving us with that kind of on again / off again rain that can't quite make up its mind if it wants to soak you with big drops or just annoy you with a fine mist.
The downside to that kind of weather (besides everything getting wet) is that it can be tough to decide which tires to run. Some big-budget teams will have dry tires, rain tires, and "intermediate" tires for just this kind of weather. Rain tires have deep grooves to channel a lot of water out from between the tire and the track, and the softer rubber gets sticky at a lower temperature than dry tires. The grooves on an intermediate tire are not as deep as on a rain tire, and the rubber compound is usually a little harder to deal with partially dry track conditions. If the track is not wet enough, full rain tires can easily overheat and fall apart. (On the other hand, my rain tires are several years old, so the rubber is harder than it used to be. I could probably run them on a completely dry track without overheating them, but I'm not keen to test that theory just yet.)
When we got to the track on Saturday morning, the rain had stopped long enough for us to think that dry tires might be the way to go, at least for the morning practice. (Before anyone calls me a bonehead, I would like to point out that more than half the cars in my group ran that session on dry tires. So at least I wasn't the only bonehead out there.)
For those who have never experienced it, let me explain that Grattan is a challenging track on a good day. If you or your car is not performing just right, it can be a nightmare. If the track is wet and your car has dry tires, it can teach you several new combinations of four-letter words. If it is possible for a car to slide in two different directions at once, it happened to me during that session. It was a struggle to get the lap times under two minutes, which was about 30 seconds slower than a mid-pack time in the dry, and maybe 20 seconds slower than a fast time in the wet.
I managed to keep the car on the track and pointing in approximately the right direction for the entire session. Before we had a chance to debate which tires to run for the afternoon qualifying session, someone reminded me of the old racing adage, "To finish first, you must first finish." More to the point, you don't earn any points by wrapping the car around a tree during qualifying. That translated to, "Put the rain tires on."
My brother Jim switched the tires in plenty of time for us to watch some other race groups trying to figure out the conditions. The on again / off again rain seemed to stop at the end of each session, only to start again halfway through the next, or vice versa. We were not the only ones struggling with the conditions.
The qualifying session was much less scary, but not much more comfortable. I ran about 10 laps, getting down to a 1:53 before calling it quits for the day. I had scared myself several times, and I felt that I wasn't learning anything more, so I pulled in before I had the chance to wreck the car. This season is all about finishes, not results. I qualified 5th of 6 in class, 15th of 16 overall. I only needed to hold that position during the race to score 5 more points and make the trip worthwhile.
Jim and I checked over the car and got everything ready for Sunday's race. One person can go through my "track" checklist in about an hour and a half, but having a helper makes it feel like about fifteen minutes, even if the helper only reads off the items on the list. When the helper is as much fun as Jim is, you're done before you know it. We packed everything up for the night and watched the last few qualifying sessions from the relative comfort of the truck.
Bruce Lindstrand invited us to walk the track with him after the last session of the day, and we jumped at the chance. I knew I would learn a lot from him, and Jim hadn't even seen the track in over 25 years. He was looking forward to testing his memory.
Bruce talked me through the spots where I had the biggest problems and reinforced the areas where I was doing things right. The single biggest gain was in the last corner heading onto the front straight. This is a fast left-hand corner that follows a blind right-hand corner and leads onto a straight that is over half a mile long. Losing speed in this corner means losing speed for the entire length of the front straight. I had been sliding the car along the inside line, tiptoeing along and waiting until the car was stable enough to feed on the throttle. Bruce pointed out that placing the car about two-thirds of the way farther to the outside of the corner would put me on some pavement with much more grip, allowing me to carry more speed through the corner as well as getting on the throttle earlier. That tip alone would cut three full seconds off my lap time during the race.
We got back to the hotel fairly early (single digits), took some hot showers, laid out our soggy clothes to dry, and fell asleep before we could even open a beer. Sunday's activities were scheduled to start later than Saturday did, so we slept in for an extra hour as well. I guess we had worked harder Friday and Saturday than we had thought.
Jim and I shared a laugh or two on the false grid before the race. The false grid is one place where good crew helpers can make a big difference to a driver. Many helpers don't realize that even amateur racers are under a lot of stress just before the race, with too many things to think about. Will the car finish the race? Should I hang back at the start to avoid being caught up in an incident? Was it a mistake not to replace that one bolt? Was I just imagining that noise during practice? Have we forgotten anything? Some of these helpers will talk at the driver about things not connected to the race. Whether they think that distracting the driver is helpful I do not know, but I do know that dealing with chatter about the legality of a car in another class, or complaints about the attitude of someone at a race two years ago, or opinions of someone else's family issues can be mentally exhausting.
A good helper will keep one eye on the grid workers and one eye on the driver. The only conversation will be about the car, the race, or just some random silliness to remind the driver not to take himself too seriously. My brother is definitely a good crew helper. He learned the serious part while crewing for my father in the '70s, but his sense of humor is beyond description. His explanation is that his brain simply makes bizarre connections, and that he is missing the filter that keeps most people from saying inappropriate or silly things out loud. Multiply that by the fact that he has a much quicker wit than almost anyone around him, and you might get some idea why my ribs hurt after spending a day with him.
Only a few cars spun during the race, and lucky me, I wasn't one of them. I tried Bruce's line through the last corner, gradually carrying more speed through the corner and giving it more throttle each lap. When I got down to a 1:50.02, I realized that I was catching the Formula Vee in front of me. But as I chased him during the next lap, I realized that I was overdriving the car and sliding too much. I had nothing to gain by passing him, so I eased off and held my position until the end of the race. Dan Faust, who had qualified third in Formula Ford, dropped out after 9 laps, which gave me 4th place and my first National race trophy.
This weekend's Formula Ford results:
1. Mark Davison, Swift DB-1
2. Russ Ruedisuelli, Van Diemen RF99-K
3. Bruce Lindstrand, Van Diemen RF92
4. John Haydon, Tiga FFA-80
5. Lynn Serra, Crossle 50F
DNF Dan Faust, Van Diemen RF93
I was thrilled to find out that my fastest lap in the race was only just over two seconds slower than Bruce Lindstrand's fast time of 1:47.794. Davison and Ruedisuelli simply ran away from the rest of us. They probably have more experience at this track in the rain than I do in the dry. Not to say that they aren't good drivers -- when Mark lapped me for the second time, I tried to keep him in sight long enough to figure out his line through the back section of the course. I lost sight of him before I could even see the line he took through the corner where he had passed me. Those guys were flying, and I was happy to have finished only three laps behind them.
We got the car loaded in time to have some of Lindstrand's pasta e fagioli soup before hitting the road. Despite an error in the Mapquest directions, we made it to the Muskegon port over an hour before the ferry was due to leave. That gave us time to put on some dry socks (and in my case, a dry shirt, dry jeans, dry sweatshirt, and a dry coat) and review the weekend before boarding the ferry.
What did we learn this weekend?
Last weekend was an SCCA National race at Grattan, Michigan. It was another rainy, soggy weekend. On the plus side, the high winds that whipped the area on Thursday had died down by Friday, leaving us with that kind of on again / off again rain that can't quite make up its mind if it wants to soak you with big drops or just annoy you with a fine mist.
The downside to that kind of weather (besides everything getting wet) is that it can be tough to decide which tires to run. Some big-budget teams will have dry tires, rain tires, and "intermediate" tires for just this kind of weather. Rain tires have deep grooves to channel a lot of water out from between the tire and the track, and the softer rubber gets sticky at a lower temperature than dry tires. The grooves on an intermediate tire are not as deep as on a rain tire, and the rubber compound is usually a little harder to deal with partially dry track conditions. If the track is not wet enough, full rain tires can easily overheat and fall apart. (On the other hand, my rain tires are several years old, so the rubber is harder than it used to be. I could probably run them on a completely dry track without overheating them, but I'm not keen to test that theory just yet.)
When we got to the track on Saturday morning, the rain had stopped long enough for us to think that dry tires might be the way to go, at least for the morning practice. (Before anyone calls me a bonehead, I would like to point out that more than half the cars in my group ran that session on dry tires. So at least I wasn't the only bonehead out there.)
For those who have never experienced it, let me explain that Grattan is a challenging track on a good day. If you or your car is not performing just right, it can be a nightmare. If the track is wet and your car has dry tires, it can teach you several new combinations of four-letter words. If it is possible for a car to slide in two different directions at once, it happened to me during that session. It was a struggle to get the lap times under two minutes, which was about 30 seconds slower than a mid-pack time in the dry, and maybe 20 seconds slower than a fast time in the wet.
I managed to keep the car on the track and pointing in approximately the right direction for the entire session. Before we had a chance to debate which tires to run for the afternoon qualifying session, someone reminded me of the old racing adage, "To finish first, you must first finish." More to the point, you don't earn any points by wrapping the car around a tree during qualifying. That translated to, "Put the rain tires on."
My brother Jim switched the tires in plenty of time for us to watch some other race groups trying to figure out the conditions. The on again / off again rain seemed to stop at the end of each session, only to start again halfway through the next, or vice versa. We were not the only ones struggling with the conditions.
The qualifying session was much less scary, but not much more comfortable. I ran about 10 laps, getting down to a 1:53 before calling it quits for the day. I had scared myself several times, and I felt that I wasn't learning anything more, so I pulled in before I had the chance to wreck the car. This season is all about finishes, not results. I qualified 5th of 6 in class, 15th of 16 overall. I only needed to hold that position during the race to score 5 more points and make the trip worthwhile.
Jim and I checked over the car and got everything ready for Sunday's race. One person can go through my "track" checklist in about an hour and a half, but having a helper makes it feel like about fifteen minutes, even if the helper only reads off the items on the list. When the helper is as much fun as Jim is, you're done before you know it. We packed everything up for the night and watched the last few qualifying sessions from the relative comfort of the truck.
Bruce Lindstrand invited us to walk the track with him after the last session of the day, and we jumped at the chance. I knew I would learn a lot from him, and Jim hadn't even seen the track in over 25 years. He was looking forward to testing his memory.
Bruce talked me through the spots where I had the biggest problems and reinforced the areas where I was doing things right. The single biggest gain was in the last corner heading onto the front straight. This is a fast left-hand corner that follows a blind right-hand corner and leads onto a straight that is over half a mile long. Losing speed in this corner means losing speed for the entire length of the front straight. I had been sliding the car along the inside line, tiptoeing along and waiting until the car was stable enough to feed on the throttle. Bruce pointed out that placing the car about two-thirds of the way farther to the outside of the corner would put me on some pavement with much more grip, allowing me to carry more speed through the corner as well as getting on the throttle earlier. That tip alone would cut three full seconds off my lap time during the race.
We got back to the hotel fairly early (single digits), took some hot showers, laid out our soggy clothes to dry, and fell asleep before we could even open a beer. Sunday's activities were scheduled to start later than Saturday did, so we slept in for an extra hour as well. I guess we had worked harder Friday and Saturday than we had thought.
Jim and I shared a laugh or two on the false grid before the race. The false grid is one place where good crew helpers can make a big difference to a driver. Many helpers don't realize that even amateur racers are under a lot of stress just before the race, with too many things to think about. Will the car finish the race? Should I hang back at the start to avoid being caught up in an incident? Was it a mistake not to replace that one bolt? Was I just imagining that noise during practice? Have we forgotten anything? Some of these helpers will talk at the driver about things not connected to the race. Whether they think that distracting the driver is helpful I do not know, but I do know that dealing with chatter about the legality of a car in another class, or complaints about the attitude of someone at a race two years ago, or opinions of someone else's family issues can be mentally exhausting.
A good helper will keep one eye on the grid workers and one eye on the driver. The only conversation will be about the car, the race, or just some random silliness to remind the driver not to take himself too seriously. My brother is definitely a good crew helper. He learned the serious part while crewing for my father in the '70s, but his sense of humor is beyond description. His explanation is that his brain simply makes bizarre connections, and that he is missing the filter that keeps most people from saying inappropriate or silly things out loud. Multiply that by the fact that he has a much quicker wit than almost anyone around him, and you might get some idea why my ribs hurt after spending a day with him.
Only a few cars spun during the race, and lucky me, I wasn't one of them. I tried Bruce's line through the last corner, gradually carrying more speed through the corner and giving it more throttle each lap. When I got down to a 1:50.02, I realized that I was catching the Formula Vee in front of me. But as I chased him during the next lap, I realized that I was overdriving the car and sliding too much. I had nothing to gain by passing him, so I eased off and held my position until the end of the race. Dan Faust, who had qualified third in Formula Ford, dropped out after 9 laps, which gave me 4th place and my first National race trophy.
This weekend's Formula Ford results:
1. Mark Davison, Swift DB-1
2. Russ Ruedisuelli, Van Diemen RF99-K
3. Bruce Lindstrand, Van Diemen RF92
4. John Haydon, Tiga FFA-80
5. Lynn Serra, Crossle 50F
DNF Dan Faust, Van Diemen RF93
I was thrilled to find out that my fastest lap in the race was only just over two seconds slower than Bruce Lindstrand's fast time of 1:47.794. Davison and Ruedisuelli simply ran away from the rest of us. They probably have more experience at this track in the rain than I do in the dry. Not to say that they aren't good drivers -- when Mark lapped me for the second time, I tried to keep him in sight long enough to figure out his line through the back section of the course. I lost sight of him before I could even see the line he took through the corner where he had passed me. Those guys were flying, and I was happy to have finished only three laps behind them.
We got the car loaded in time to have some of Lindstrand's pasta e fagioli soup before hitting the road. Despite an error in the Mapquest directions, we made it to the Muskegon port over an hour before the ferry was due to leave. That gave us time to put on some dry socks (and in my case, a dry shirt, dry jeans, dry sweatshirt, and a dry coat) and review the weekend before boarding the ferry.
What did we learn this weekend?
- The Lake Express Ferry is an excellent alternative to driving through Chicago.
- When in doubt, put on the rain tires.
- I have spent about half of my total driving time at Grattan steering into the slide.
- Be careful what you say to a trapeze artist; she may be a high school principal.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Sunday Muddy Sunday
The car was finally back on the track last weekend! Mere exclamation points can't convey how happy I am about it. The car performed almost flawlessly. If only the weather had performed as well.
(Keep in mind as you read the recap that last weekend's race was in a completely different league from where I raced last year. My old Tiga is now competing against cars that are newer and faster, driven by people who, for the most part, have bigger budgets and more experience. Winning is no longer the goal. Finishing each race is the only realistic goal for this season.)
Saturday morning was dry, cool, and cloudy - great weather for the first practice session. I still didn't know at that point if the car would run reliably, shift through all four gears, or even hold together. The brake system had been revised, so I didn't know what to expect when I hit the pedal. The rear wheel hubs were still untested (by me, anyway), the engine was freshly rebuilt, and the transmission was totally unknown. Add to that the fact that I was about to share the track with some very fast cars. Yes, I was a little nervous.
The car worked better than I ever would have expected. Only two issues came up in that first session: two of the three bolts that hold the radiator in place went missing (one was found stuck inside the bodywork), and shifting from first gear to second was a little tricky. Even shifting well below 6000 rpm and on old tires, I got down into the low 1:22s. About 5 seconds off my best time, but hey, I was only shaking down the car, not going for a lap record. I would have jumped for joy if I hadn't been so tired.
After such an agonizing winter rebuild, that kind of success was just what the doctor ordered.
My father and I did a thorough nut-and-bolt check and changed the oil as the rain started. The rain was very light for a couple of hours, but we soon realized that we would need to put on rain tires, disconnect the rear swaybar, and set the front swaybar to full soft for the afternoon qualifying session. We had a small issue with the rear wheel hubs (even with red Loctite, the wheel studs turned in the hub as the lug nuts were tightened), but we got the car ready to go with plenty of time to spare.
I lined up for qualifying behind Lynn Serra, who has proven to be a very good rain driver. I didn't realize how lucky I was to be following her until I realized how hard it was to keep up with her. Then it all started to come back to me. Mark Donohue, one of my racing idols, wrote about racing in the rain in his autobiography, The Unfair Advantage. He explained that tires lose about 70% of their sideways (cornering) traction in the rain, but they only lose about 30% of their accelerating and braking grip. This led to a technique of waiting until the car was straight after exiting the corner and then hammering on the throttle, then standing on the brakes (while the car is straight) and then tiptoeing ever so gently through the corner, getting the car straight, and then hammering on the throttle again.
I always thought that was an exaggeration. Then I watched Lynn rocket out of corner 6 while I was still sliding through the corner, trying desperately to get some power to the ground. Then I tried it. You really do just hang on for dear life doing about 20mph through the corner, and then as soon as the car is straight, you floor the throttle and zip up through the gears, then brake just a little earlier and a little easier than you normally would for the next corner. Hold your breath and stay off the gas as you wait for the corner to finally end... then full throttle again, up through the gears.
After another lap or two, I was confident that I had the technique down. I passed Lynn exiting corner 6 and went blasting down the back straight. I tiptoed through corner 7, then blasted off down the front straight, up through the gears, and stood on the brakes for corner 1.
Did I say "stood on the brakes?" Yeah... Mental note: Not quite so hard next time.
It's a very strange feeling, after blasting down the straight with the engine almost at redline, making all kinds of noise and vibration, to suddenly have all noise stop. All noise, that is, except the gentle "whoosh" of four tires doing their best impression of California surfers. The mind doesn't always respond well to that sudden change, and sometimes the brain locks just like the wheels.
Fortunately, the car remained pointing in the direction it was traveling (more or less) and just sort of slipped off the track onto the grass on the left side of the corner. Once it was on the grass, I was able to unlock my brain enough to begin pumping the pedal to regain some traction and get the car slowed down. I had to wait for Lynn to pass before I could get back on the track, which served to punctuate my realization that I should have followed her for another lap or two before heading out on my own.
I managed to turn a 1:47.044, which placed me 5th out of 7 Formula Fords and 19th of 21 overall. Allen Wheatcroft was right behind me, and Lynn was gridded next to him. (We were grouped with Formula Vees for this race. FVs run much skinnier tires and have much less horsepower - both of which are big advantages when it rains. The overall polesitter was an FV.)
The rain began to ease up after qualifying was over, but it came and went throughout the evening. My father and I did another nut and bolt check before packing up for the night. We tried our best to cover everything and tie everything down before the wind picked up, but when we got to the track Sunday morning, we found that the canopy had collapsed on top of the car because of all the wind and rain. Luckily we had done a good enough job of tucking things away that nothing got wetter than it already was, and no damage was done to the car. My paddock space was now a swamp, with a small moat surrounding the racecar and a much larger moat surrounding the truck.
Sunday morning also started off dry, but it began to rain again shortly after lunch. The day turned into a real nail-biter. Should we run slicks and gamble that the rain was going to remain a light drizzle, or should we run wet tires and risk burning them up (and losing time) if the track dried off? We finally decided to try the old trick of installing two rain tires and two slicks. Whichever decision we made, we would only have to change two tires instead of four. We put air in all 8 tires and waited with all eyes on the sky.
Fortunately, the weather made up its mind in time for us to get ready for the race. The light rain changed persistent light rain. Then it changed to a pouring, soaking rain. Change the two slicks to rains and head to the grid...
I let Lynn and Allen know that I was planning to take it easy on the start. Rather than dive into the blinding spray, I wanted to hang back a little, let any wrecks happen without me, and pick my way through the wreckage. It sounds like a good plan, doesn't it? Right up to the part where Allen goes motoring past. Then it has its drawbacks.
I followed Allen as closely as I could for about half the race. We were nose-to-tail for several laps, dipping our lap times into the low 1:44s. I thought he started to slow a little, so I pressed him a bit and even pulled out to pass between corners 5 and 6. I backed out of the pass, but he felt the pressure. He got on the throttle a little too early exiting corner 1 the next lap and spun off the track. I tried not to grin too much as I drove gently past him and back into 5th place.
The next lap, I exited corner 5 to see... Allen in front of me again. I found out later that he had spun again in corner 6 on the same lap. I decided to just spend the rest of the race following him rather than try a risky pass. The lap he wasn't in front of me, I could finally see that the track had oil everywhere. That explained why he seemed to be going slower before he spun. I just couldn't see it through the spray from his tires.
As the race progressed, the rain eased up and the track began to dry off. We all began searching for puddles on the track to cool our now-overheating rain tires. The checkered flag came out, and not a minute too soon. My best lap during the race was 1:44.098. Allen turned a 1:43.664 trying to catch me.
Here is the final finishing order for Formula Fords:
Newer cars generally have "inboard" suspension, where the shock and spring assembly is mounted entirely on the chassis, usually inside the body shell. There have been three major types of inboard suspension on Formula Fords, used with varying degrees of success.
The first type is rocker-arm suspension, where the upper suspension arm pivots up and down as usual, but part of the arm extends past the pivot inside the body. As the wheel moves up (or the chassis moves down), the extended (inboard) part of the rocker arm pushes down to compress the shock. The Swift fits into this category, and it is perhaps the most successful Formula Ford with rocker-arm suspension. (Actually, the rocker acts on a connected chain of smaller rocker arms before it reaches the shocks, but that's splitting hairs.)
The next type is pullrod suspension, where a rod attaches high up on the wheel end of the suspension and runs downward to the chassis. As the wheel moves up, this rod pulls on a linkage which pushes up to compress the shock. The Crossle 50F has a pullrod suspension. The main drawback is that the shocks must be mounted solidly at the top, which limits access to them and necessitates a much stiffer chassis structure than was common when pullrod suspensions were being used. (The Ray 95F Formula C car also used a pullrod suspension, and in 1995 it was one of the last manufacturers to use this system.)
The most "modern" type of suspension is the pushrod type. These cars have a rod that mounts low down on the wheel end of the suspension and runs upward toward the chassis. As the wheel moves up, the rod pushes up on a linkage which compresses the shock. Most modern Formula Fords use this suspension type, including Van Diemen and Piper. Formula 1 cars also use pushrod suspension. There is probably a lesson in there somewhere.
Meanwhile, back at the track: Bruce Lindstrand had the drive of the race. Several laps from the end of the race, he passed John Luxon entering corner 6. As he turned in for the corner, the steering column support bracket broke, letting the wheel fall down and to the left. He drove the rest of the race holding the wheel up against the bottom of the dashboard to prevent it from falling off completely. He still finished just a second or two behind.
The rain stopped within a few minutes of the end of the race, but not before everything was soaking wet and coated with a fine layer of sandy mud. This week's project is to dry everything and clean the grass and mud out of the car.
Funny, I feel like I just did that same thing a few weeks ago when I had the car apart.
(Keep in mind as you read the recap that last weekend's race was in a completely different league from where I raced last year. My old Tiga is now competing against cars that are newer and faster, driven by people who, for the most part, have bigger budgets and more experience. Winning is no longer the goal. Finishing each race is the only realistic goal for this season.)
Saturday morning was dry, cool, and cloudy - great weather for the first practice session. I still didn't know at that point if the car would run reliably, shift through all four gears, or even hold together. The brake system had been revised, so I didn't know what to expect when I hit the pedal. The rear wheel hubs were still untested (by me, anyway), the engine was freshly rebuilt, and the transmission was totally unknown. Add to that the fact that I was about to share the track with some very fast cars. Yes, I was a little nervous.
The car worked better than I ever would have expected. Only two issues came up in that first session: two of the three bolts that hold the radiator in place went missing (one was found stuck inside the bodywork), and shifting from first gear to second was a little tricky. Even shifting well below 6000 rpm and on old tires, I got down into the low 1:22s. About 5 seconds off my best time, but hey, I was only shaking down the car, not going for a lap record. I would have jumped for joy if I hadn't been so tired.
After such an agonizing winter rebuild, that kind of success was just what the doctor ordered.
My father and I did a thorough nut-and-bolt check and changed the oil as the rain started. The rain was very light for a couple of hours, but we soon realized that we would need to put on rain tires, disconnect the rear swaybar, and set the front swaybar to full soft for the afternoon qualifying session. We had a small issue with the rear wheel hubs (even with red Loctite, the wheel studs turned in the hub as the lug nuts were tightened), but we got the car ready to go with plenty of time to spare.
I lined up for qualifying behind Lynn Serra, who has proven to be a very good rain driver. I didn't realize how lucky I was to be following her until I realized how hard it was to keep up with her. Then it all started to come back to me. Mark Donohue, one of my racing idols, wrote about racing in the rain in his autobiography, The Unfair Advantage. He explained that tires lose about 70% of their sideways (cornering) traction in the rain, but they only lose about 30% of their accelerating and braking grip. This led to a technique of waiting until the car was straight after exiting the corner and then hammering on the throttle, then standing on the brakes (while the car is straight) and then tiptoeing ever so gently through the corner, getting the car straight, and then hammering on the throttle again.
I always thought that was an exaggeration. Then I watched Lynn rocket out of corner 6 while I was still sliding through the corner, trying desperately to get some power to the ground. Then I tried it. You really do just hang on for dear life doing about 20mph through the corner, and then as soon as the car is straight, you floor the throttle and zip up through the gears, then brake just a little earlier and a little easier than you normally would for the next corner. Hold your breath and stay off the gas as you wait for the corner to finally end... then full throttle again, up through the gears.
After another lap or two, I was confident that I had the technique down. I passed Lynn exiting corner 6 and went blasting down the back straight. I tiptoed through corner 7, then blasted off down the front straight, up through the gears, and stood on the brakes for corner 1.
Did I say "stood on the brakes?" Yeah... Mental note: Not quite so hard next time.
It's a very strange feeling, after blasting down the straight with the engine almost at redline, making all kinds of noise and vibration, to suddenly have all noise stop. All noise, that is, except the gentle "whoosh" of four tires doing their best impression of California surfers. The mind doesn't always respond well to that sudden change, and sometimes the brain locks just like the wheels.
Fortunately, the car remained pointing in the direction it was traveling (more or less) and just sort of slipped off the track onto the grass on the left side of the corner. Once it was on the grass, I was able to unlock my brain enough to begin pumping the pedal to regain some traction and get the car slowed down. I had to wait for Lynn to pass before I could get back on the track, which served to punctuate my realization that I should have followed her for another lap or two before heading out on my own.
I managed to turn a 1:47.044, which placed me 5th out of 7 Formula Fords and 19th of 21 overall. Allen Wheatcroft was right behind me, and Lynn was gridded next to him. (We were grouped with Formula Vees for this race. FVs run much skinnier tires and have much less horsepower - both of which are big advantages when it rains. The overall polesitter was an FV.)
The rain began to ease up after qualifying was over, but it came and went throughout the evening. My father and I did another nut and bolt check before packing up for the night. We tried our best to cover everything and tie everything down before the wind picked up, but when we got to the track Sunday morning, we found that the canopy had collapsed on top of the car because of all the wind and rain. Luckily we had done a good enough job of tucking things away that nothing got wetter than it already was, and no damage was done to the car. My paddock space was now a swamp, with a small moat surrounding the racecar and a much larger moat surrounding the truck.
Sunday morning also started off dry, but it began to rain again shortly after lunch. The day turned into a real nail-biter. Should we run slicks and gamble that the rain was going to remain a light drizzle, or should we run wet tires and risk burning them up (and losing time) if the track dried off? We finally decided to try the old trick of installing two rain tires and two slicks. Whichever decision we made, we would only have to change two tires instead of four. We put air in all 8 tires and waited with all eyes on the sky.
Fortunately, the weather made up its mind in time for us to get ready for the race. The light rain changed persistent light rain. Then it changed to a pouring, soaking rain. Change the two slicks to rains and head to the grid...
I let Lynn and Allen know that I was planning to take it easy on the start. Rather than dive into the blinding spray, I wanted to hang back a little, let any wrecks happen without me, and pick my way through the wreckage. It sounds like a good plan, doesn't it? Right up to the part where Allen goes motoring past. Then it has its drawbacks.
I followed Allen as closely as I could for about half the race. We were nose-to-tail for several laps, dipping our lap times into the low 1:44s. I thought he started to slow a little, so I pressed him a bit and even pulled out to pass between corners 5 and 6. I backed out of the pass, but he felt the pressure. He got on the throttle a little too early exiting corner 1 the next lap and spun off the track. I tried not to grin too much as I drove gently past him and back into 5th place.
The next lap, I exited corner 5 to see... Allen in front of me again. I found out later that he had spun again in corner 6 on the same lap. I decided to just spend the rest of the race following him rather than try a risky pass. The lap he wasn't in front of me, I could finally see that the track had oil everywhere. That explained why he seemed to be going slower before he spun. I just couldn't see it through the spray from his tires.
As the race progressed, the rain eased up and the track began to dry off. We all began searching for puddles on the track to cool our now-overheating rain tires. The checkered flag came out, and not a minute too soon. My best lap during the race was 1:44.098. Allen turned a 1:43.664 trying to catch me.
Here is the final finishing order for Formula Fords:
- Marc Blanc Swift DB-6
- John Luxon Piper DF2
- Bruce Lindstrand Van Diemen RF92
- Tim Wise Swift DB-6
- John Haydon Tiga FFA-80
- Lynn Serra Crossle 50F
- Allen Wheatcroft Van Diemen RF98
Newer cars generally have "inboard" suspension, where the shock and spring assembly is mounted entirely on the chassis, usually inside the body shell. There have been three major types of inboard suspension on Formula Fords, used with varying degrees of success.
The first type is rocker-arm suspension, where the upper suspension arm pivots up and down as usual, but part of the arm extends past the pivot inside the body. As the wheel moves up (or the chassis moves down), the extended (inboard) part of the rocker arm pushes down to compress the shock. The Swift fits into this category, and it is perhaps the most successful Formula Ford with rocker-arm suspension. (Actually, the rocker acts on a connected chain of smaller rocker arms before it reaches the shocks, but that's splitting hairs.)
The next type is pullrod suspension, where a rod attaches high up on the wheel end of the suspension and runs downward to the chassis. As the wheel moves up, this rod pulls on a linkage which pushes up to compress the shock. The Crossle 50F has a pullrod suspension. The main drawback is that the shocks must be mounted solidly at the top, which limits access to them and necessitates a much stiffer chassis structure than was common when pullrod suspensions were being used. (The Ray 95F Formula C car also used a pullrod suspension, and in 1995 it was one of the last manufacturers to use this system.)
The most "modern" type of suspension is the pushrod type. These cars have a rod that mounts low down on the wheel end of the suspension and runs upward toward the chassis. As the wheel moves up, the rod pushes up on a linkage which compresses the shock. Most modern Formula Fords use this suspension type, including Van Diemen and Piper. Formula 1 cars also use pushrod suspension. There is probably a lesson in there somewhere.
Meanwhile, back at the track: Bruce Lindstrand had the drive of the race. Several laps from the end of the race, he passed John Luxon entering corner 6. As he turned in for the corner, the steering column support bracket broke, letting the wheel fall down and to the left. He drove the rest of the race holding the wheel up against the bottom of the dashboard to prevent it from falling off completely. He still finished just a second or two behind.
The rain stopped within a few minutes of the end of the race, but not before everything was soaking wet and coated with a fine layer of sandy mud. This week's project is to dry everything and clean the grass and mud out of the car.
Funny, I feel like I just did that same thing a few weeks ago when I had the car apart.
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