That Loooong Race '07

"Couldn't ask for better weather" was the most often heard phrase last weekend. The late October weather in northern Illinois has not been the best for outdoor activities in the past. Rain, cold, wind, bitter cold, snow, and cold are typical conditions for "The Looong Race," but cloudless skies and temperatures in the 70s made the stiff breeze tolerable all weekend.

This was my first race at Blackhawk since losing the oil pump in the rain last May, and I was looking forward to it. Blackhawk is a fun track with a welcoming atmosphere. Pro teams test there, but the track doesn't host any pro events. Unlike other tracks that cater to the pro racer (and to the spectators), Blackhawk hasn't clearcut groves of trees to set up grandstands or paved everything in sight. The creek where I used to catch tadpoles and snails and grasshoppers as a kid is still a creek. The track is still shaded by trees in many areas. Yes, the bathrooms are far from glamorous and we all paddock on grass or gravel, but the place feels more like a park or a picnic area than a business.

Most of the races we run are short sprint races, somewhere around 30 minutes or 50 miles. The Looong Race is a 100 mile race (technically, it's 97 1/2 -- 50 laps around a 1.95 mile track). Many cars stop to refuel (as I would have to do), and many people co-drive the event (as my competition, Mike and Paul Schindlbeck, would do). Most of our races don't involve pit stops, so this race can see some real entertainment in the pits. Unless the race is going to decide a championship, many of us take a fairly laid-back approach to setting up a pit crew. I hadn't actually arranged for a crew to help me refuel, but the great thing about club racing is that I knew could count on someone to help me. My parents were there, and my father agreed to hand me the fuel jug and hold the fire extinguisher ready while I poured in the fuel. That was all I needed, and I only needed enough fuel to make it to the finish.

Practice was relatively uneventful as I got reacquainted with the track. It was amazing how quickly some of the reference points came back, and equally amazing how baffling some of the corners seemed, even at the end of the session. Still, I turned a 1:20.655, which is only a few seconds off my best time. The car ran flawlessly, and I was even able to buckle the belts without holding my breath this time.

Practice didn't go so well for everyone. For some reason, people in fast cars seemed content to follow slower cars for many laps. I caught up to a group of cars including FCs, FFs, a CSR, and a CS2000 (all faster) following a slower car. I was directly behind a Reynard FC, just watching and trying to copy his rhythm, when the CS2 spun entering corner 3A. A couple of cars went right, one car went left, a couple of cars stopped, and the Reynard went off the track to the left. He must have hit a curb on his way out, because the car went bounding over the grass like a huge metal puppy. He came back on the track in front of me, but he slowed and pulled off at corner 4 with a bent suspension.

I shouldn't have put so much emphasis on qualifying, since winning this race would not earn me any points. Only one other CFF was running (Schindlbecks), and I would still get a trophy for second place. They would probably beat me in the pits anyway, since they have co-driven this race in their car more times than I have in all the cars I've driven. But I didn't come to finish second. I worked hard during qualifying, turning a 1:19.7 to Paul Schindlbeck's 1:22.5.

Paul told me during lunch that they had found their two and a half seconds -- the ignition points were badly burned out, keeping the car from making any power above 5000rpm. With the new set of points, he predicted he'd be right on my tail. I didn't doubt him. But what he didn't tell me is that they wouldn't need to refuel. They would only change drivers. That would be a big advantage for them.

The pace lap was incredibly fast. I don't remember the last time I was in 4th gear during a pace lap. (That may have been my fastest lap of the race.) Once the green flag dropped, I tried to settle in to a conservative pace, turning 1:22 laps and driving as smoothly as I could. Traffic spread out almost immediately, which was surprising after the clumps in the morning practice session. Soon I was all alone. No faster cars in sight in front of me, but more surprising, no cars in my mirrors either. Where was Paul, and when would I see him flying past me? I started cursing my decision not to burden my mother with the stopwatch and pit board. I really wanted to know what was going on around me!

A peculiar thing happens when you're all alone with your thoughts in a noisy racecar. The noises seem to change, though it may only be your interpretation of the noises that changes. Every click, every buzz, every pop, and every rattle worries you. Is that clicking sound new? Was that pop the sound of something breaking? Is something wearing out? Is this car going to last the entire race? You can go crazy listening for new sounds, trying to picture just what the sound is, and trying to calculate how much longer you can afford to push it before the sound turns into an explosion.

I started to worry about the gearbox. This was the same race that cost me a transmission in 2005. I had checked the oil level before this race, though, and it was fine. I kept telling myself to concentrate on the track, on the steering, the throttle and brake. But I kept hearing a rattling, popping noise. I kept picturing a tooth broken off of a gear, bouncing around inside the transmission, waiting for just the right moment to jump between two meshed gears and jam everything solid. I actually stopped using first and second gears, thinking that shifting less often would be less strain on the gearbox. Not that it would have helped. If something had broken off and was rattling around, it could have jammed everything regardless of what gear I was in at the time.

I had a very loose plan in place to stop for fuel somewhere around the 25 lap mark. On my 22nd lap, I recognized my fuel jug being waved in the air at the pit wall. But the person waving it was wearing a helmet, and I couldn't figure out who it was! The next lap, the person had taken his helmet off, and I recognized that it was David Cox. I pulled in the next time around and hopped out of the car. I found out later that David had approached my father and offered to do the fueling so I could rest. I'm so thankful that he did. I had forgotten how tiring it is to race for that long.

I pulled out of the pit lane and saw that my lap timer showed a time of 5:49.5. I had lost 4 minutes in the pits -- most of it spent struggling to buckle myself back in the car. I found out later that the Schindlbecks had changed drivers in less than 30 seconds, and their total pit stop, including entering and exiting pit lane, cost them only about one minute. After both pit stops, I was one lap down. I would really have to turn some seriously fast laps to catch them.

Or I could rely on luck. The next thing I knew (which was about 15 laps later), I passed Mike on the track. He was going very slow, and the car didn't sound right. Even with a helmet on, I could see he wasn't happy. Shortly after they had changed drivers, Mike spent about 5 minutes in the pits because the car was overheating. Several laps later -- probably shortly after I passed him -- he pulled back in with a blown head gasket. Their race was done after 35 laps.

I nursed the car to the finish, turning a best lap of 1:21.5. This was my first time ever winning The Looong Race (and only my third time making it to the checkered flag) in 9 tries. I was so worn out at the end, I know the car was in better shape than I was. I could barely hold the checkered flag because my hand was so sore from gripping the steering wheel. I couldn't push the clutch pedal because my foot hurt so badly from bracing myself against the footrest. My eyes were as dry as the Sahara and I could barely hold my head upright. But it felt great.

Now I need to open the gearbox and find out what is going on in there before the last SCCA Regional race of the season at Blackhawk this weekend. Wish me luck.