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:

1. Marc Blanc Swift DB-6
2. John Luxon Piper DF2
3. Bruce Lindstrand Van Diemen RF92
4. Tim Wise Swift DB-6
5. John Haydon Tiga FFA-80
6. Lynn Serra Crossle 50F
7. Allen Wheatcroft Van Diemen RF98

In case you're interested in the technical differences in the cars (and I know you are), here is a quick primer. Formula Ford suspensions can be categorized into different types based on how the shock absorber is connected to the wheel. The original type is called "outboard," so called because the shocks and springs are mounted entirely outside the chassis, and the wheel pushes pretty much directly on the shock (more correctly, the chassis pushes down on the shock, which pushes down on the wheel). The drawbacks to this suspension type are increased aero drag (the shocks are mounted out in the airstream) and increased unsprung weight (part of the weight of the shock/spring assembly is not supported by the spring, but becomes part of the wheel. The more unsprung weight a give car has, the harder it is to control the vertical movement of the wheels).

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.