Haydon Racing Team News and Results

That Loooong Race #40

2010-10-25T13:25:00.005-05:00

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
-- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Well, no, it wasn't the worst of times by a long shot. More like, "it was the best of times, it was the wettest of times." It wasn't raining when I got to Blackhawk on Sunday morning, but a big storm had rolled through Saturday night, dumping enough water to break several canopies around the paddock (including one of mine) and to flood my paddock area. Everything I owned was wet, and before I could get anything sorted out, it started raining again.

It continued to rain -- hard -- during the first practice session. The track was underwater in a few spots, creating a new racing line that was less about finding traction and more about not drowning. I was happy to bring the car back in one piece, delighted that it was once again running perfectly, and surprised that I managed to get below a 2 minute lap time.

The rain eased up a bit for qualifying, so I was able to take a couple of seconds off of my practice time (still a 1:50, 11th on the grid). The car was running strong, but at one point when I opened the throttle, the exhaust note suddenly changed dramatically. It sounded a little like a blown exhaust header gasket, so I stayed out just long enough to ensure that I got enough laps to start the race.

When I pulled the engine cover, the gasket was still in one piece. The 4-year-old crack in the header looked worse, but there was still no evidence that it had cracked through. I started the engine again to try to find the leak, but there was nothing -- no visible smoke and no gas escaping anywhere -- just that weird noise that didn't sound so much like a header gasket after all. Luckily, Nicole Temple walked over from the Lindstrand Motorsports trailer just in time. She listened for just a few seconds, looked it over for a moment, and spotted the problem. One of the tabs which holds the exhaust collector to the header primary tubes had broken. The collector slipped off just enough to allow the #2 pipe to pop out, creating the bizarre, lumpy-cam-V8 racket. (Yes, she's better at this stuff than I am, but to be fair, she was standing on the other side of the car, so she could see the collector.)

The rain stopped soon after qualifying, and the sun came out. It was like a Christmas miracle. The flood waters began to recede, and we all changed from rain tires to dry tires, from clear and amber face shields to smoked and mirrored shields. Of course, just before the first call to grid, the sky clouded over again, and we all began to wonder if we had made a terrible miscalculation.

We hadn't. The rain held off, and the sun even peeked out a few more times during the afternoon. The track had drained somewhat before the start of our race, but it was still wet everywhere, and there were still puddles on the front straight. I got a great start, passing a CFF and an FC going into corner 1. Someone spun in either corner 2 or 5 (or both??), and cars went off both sides of the track. I picked my way through the group and found myself 4th overall! One of the cars still in front of me was Matt Lagessie (usually a big V8 sedan driver) in Jack Bartelt's Lola CFF. I caught up to him a few laps later, just in time for a front-row seat when he spun in corner 2. We narrowly missed each other as I passed, taking over the CFF lead. I tried to get some distance on him before he could recover.

The track conditions were tricky to say the least. It started out wet, but within 10 laps some of the corners were visibly drying. I worked on increasing my cornering speed in those corners, trying to take advantage of the increase in traction. The hard part was trying to keep from turning on "full dry" mode. Corners 2 and 5 and the dogleg between 3A and 4 are the last sections of the track to dry. Even when all of the other corners dry completely, you still have to take it easy through those areas. You're not driving a rain race, but you can't drive like it's a dry race either. It's hard to build a rhythm that way, and a lot of very fast drivers struggled with having to switch back and forth from corner to corner.

I ran as hard as I dared, trying a little harder each lap until I was at full dry speed in almost every corner. I managed to get down to a 1:19.14, just a second off of my best dry time. Soon I recognized the white Hawke of Mike Green in the distance ahead of me. Putting him a lap down would take a lot of pressure off of my pit stop. I turned up the heat a bit to catch up to him. Braking for corner 7, he briefly locked a wheel, and like a fool I started thinking that I had pressured him into a mistake... until I felt my own tires sliding, and I realized he had snookered me into a mistake! Fortunately I recovered from it -- and from the same mistake entering corner 1, and from another mistake in corner 2 (boy, was I getting greedy). The next time down the back straight, I was almost ready to set up for a pass, but he stayed to the right exiting the kink... and ducked into the pits. He later told me they had planned it that way. Clever, but he might have done better to drive defensively for another lap or two. He could have easily kept me behind him, maybe drawing me into a bigger mistake that I couldn't recover from.

"That Loooong Race" (yes, officially 4 "o"s) is a 100-mile race. Back in the day, the Formula Ford rules (at least in England, or someplace) actually specified that the fuel cell could be no larger than 5 gallons. Making some assumptions about fuel consumption, that means a Formula Ford has an expected range of about 30 minutes, which is about 50 miles at Blackhawk. In reality, I have had about 1 1/2 to 2 gallons left after a 30 minute race. The TLR rules allow auxilliary fuel tanks, but I've never come up with a design that I'd be proud of. I would need to stop for fuel too.

Of course, this isn't NASCAR or Formula 1 or CART. Our pit stops take a little longer. We don't have the high-dollar quick-refuelling rigs. We also don't have safety crews stationed up and down pit lane, so we have to be more cautious when it comes to refuelling. Our rules require the driver to be out of the car with the engine off, with a crew member standing by with a fire extinguisher. The person doing the fuelling is also required to wear so much safety equipment that it makes sense for the driver to do the actual fuelling.

With Mike in the pits, I drove as hard as I could to try to maximize the number of laps between us. I had told my crew to expect me around lap 30, so I waited for the right combination of traffic, lap number, and... something else, which I hadn't quite decided on yet. Soon enough, I got a sign. My water temperature gauge had reached 210 and was edging towards 220. I wasn't hot outside by any means (maybe high 60s), but I knew right away what the problem was. It's late fall in Illinois at a track with a thick canopy of trees. I noticed on the pace lap that corner 2 was covered in leaves, and of course I had scooped some huge amount of them into the radiator intake. It was only strange that it had taken 30 laps for it to run this hot.

I pulled into the pits for my fuel stop. Before I could get out of the car, Jack Bartelt had already cleaned the leaves out of the radiator intake for me. I dumped in the 2 gallons we had left in the fuel jug and got back in the car. I saw Matt and Mike both pass while I was buckling in, but were they already lapping me or just unlapping themselves? I asked my dad how long Mike had been in the pits, and I think he said that our stop was faster.

With the leaves out of the radiator, the track drying off, and fewer than 20 laps to go, I tried to drive like it was a sprint race. I tried to keep the lap times in the :19s, which was tough with so much traffic, both slower and faster. I have a new empathy for the drivers at LeMans, and the wide mix of cars and speeds they deal with. The fastest 5 cars in our group had fast lap times between 1:10 and 1:16; the slowest were between 1:29 and 1:35. The fastest car must have been passing the slowest car every 3 laps! And there I was in the middle, alternately lapping slower traffic and being lapped by faster cars.

I passed Matt in the Lola once more after my stop, getting back a lap I had lost during my pit stop. But how many laps he had already done was a mystery to me. Was he now behind me or still ahead of me? Were we on the same lap now?

As it turned out, we weren't. I forgot that Jack had constructed an auxiliary fuel tank for that car long ago, which meant that Matt didn't need to pit for fuel. I was only unlapping myself, but I still had another lap to make up before we would be on the same lap! He won CFF with 47 laps (finishing 5th overall), and I took second (9th overall) with 46 laps. I was catching him at a rate of about 4 seconds a lap, and at the end I was only about 20 seconds from getting back on the same lap as he was. But then I would have needed another 20 laps to make up the rest of that lap, which would have required another pit stop.

I am very proud of how I did, not just the finishing position and lap times, but I really felt like I drove better than I ever have. I was more confident under braking, I carried more speed through the corners, and my line took advantage of every bit of traction I could find.

Now if I could just start the 2011 season with a drive like that, we might really have something.

Mid-Ohio

2010-10-21T13:05:00.005-05:00

The last time I tried to drive Mid-Ohio, the trip did not go well. I got about 3 or 4 laps in (during the $850 Mid-Ohio School, the only "test day" available) before my pro-built engine decided it was ready to die, and it wanted to be buried all over the back straight. But it wasn't the track's fault, so I was determined to go back there and have a better race weekend.

The WOR Games race weekend format has changed in recent years. It had been a 2-day double Regional race weekend, but this year they tried a 3-day, 3-event format: PDX (Performance Driving Experience) on Friday, an 8-hour sedan enduro Saturday, and a one-day double "restricted" Regional Sunday. This ended up being perfect for me. Since I couldn't take Friday off, I would have to tow the 8 hours (plus one hour for the time zone change) after working all day Friday. Following that up by getting into the racecar to bomb around an unfamiliar track would have been crazy. I still towed there Friday night, but I spent Saturday leisurely unloading, setting up, and trying to find where things were (I vaguely remembered where the grid was, but I needed a map to find the restrooms!) before checking in at the hotel for an early night.

The hotel, by the way, was excellent. Hampton Inn & Suites Mansfield South @I-71 is one of the nicest, cleanest, quietest, and best-run hotels I've stayed. That's not a free plug -- they earned it! The price wasn't bad, the room was very nice and very clean, and everyone who worked there was genuinely friendly and eager to help. Even the complimentary breakfast -- which is what other hotels call the mess of reconstituted eggs, soggy bacon, and warm OJ -- was much better than I've seen anywhere else. I'm sorry I was only there the one night.

I had to get up early Sunday morning because we were Group 1. The schedule was tight (qualifying at 8am), but the really unnerving thing was that it was still dark. The sun was just coming up while we were on track, which of course meant some glare in certain areas.

Find the Van Diemen in this picture. For that matter, find the track!

No, that's not my excuse. I'd need something a lot more convincing than that to explain away my 1:51 lap time, so here it is: I've only driven 4 or 5 laps there before! Mid-Ohio is hard. Somehow the blind turns at Grattan don't suck the confidence right out of me like the corners at Mid-Ohio do. Even after I learned which way the track goes (and remembered it -- crest the left-hand 10A and the right-hand 10B is right behind it, but track position doesn't matter, and at this speed you could take 11 flat out), I just couldn't keep my foot off the brake. Still, that 1:51 gridded me in front of 3 FVs, though I would start behind 2 other FVs and well behind all of the CFFs and FFs. The polesitter qualified with a 1:38. I decided that I'd be satisfied to get down to a 1:45 during the race.
I hopped out of the car and headed for the Keyhole to watch the next group. Being a restricted Regional, there were only 4 groups (small formula cars, large formula/sports racers, small production, and big GT), so I couldn't afford the time to visit any other corners. I kicked myself for not staying to watch the enduro on Saturday.

An FV setting a good bad example.

On the start of the first race, I stayed behind the two FVs for a lap while the FFs and CFFs drove off into the distance. I finally managed to pass one of the FVs, but I just couldn't catch the other. Amazingly, my lap time dropped dramatically -- my fast race lap was a 1:41! The leaders got down to the 1:35s, but how can I be unhappy with being 6 seconds off their pace, and 7 seconds off the track record? I'm closer to being competitive there than I am at Road America!

The second race didn't go as well. I passed the other FV on the first lap, but then I held him up badly from corner 7 through the Carousel. He finally squeezed past me on the inside of the Carousel, and I decided it would be wise to stay behind him for a lap to try to learn from a master. Unfortunately, the very next lap, my car started shutting down at the end of the back straight. It was acting as though it wasn't getting any fuel. A quick lift off the throttle brought it back to life, which is consistent with fuel starvation. At first it only happened at the end of the long straight, but it rapidly deteriorated. By lap 5, I couldn't make it through a corner without the car sputtering. It was obvious that I wouldn't make another lap, so I pulled in and called it a day. Is that my first DNF in this car?

This week has been spent trying to diagnose the problem. Every part of the fuel system is working properly, which is frustrating. The fuel cell vent line may have gotten pinched, but it's terribly unlikely. We changed the tachometer since the last race, and since that's the only change we made, we're wondering if this tach has an internal short that's cutting the ignition.

And then there's always the ignition coil. An internal short (which usually starts when the coil heats up, as it does when the car is run hard) would make the car falter. Lifting off the throttle decreases demand on the coil, which allows it to cool off enough that it would work better for a few seconds. Since this problem got so much worse so quickly, I'm inclined to believe that the coil -- which was either on the car when I got it, or else new in 2004 -- might be to blame. Ignition coils are cheaper (and easier to deal with) than lost track time, so a new one goes in tonight.

If the problem continues, I plan to pull into the pits and unplug the tach. And if the problem still persists, I'll find the nearest brick wall and commence beating my head against it.

The tow there and the tow home Sunday night were just excellent. You couldn't ask for better. We screwed up the directions a little on the way down (jumped the gun exiting I-90 and wound up driving through downtown Merillville), and we hit Chicago traffic on the way home, but the truck and trailer performed flawlessly. I still pinch myself that I can use cruise control (and the A/C) while towing a trailer. It is actually relaxing to drive that rig to and from the track.

Gee, maybe next year I could tow the 8 hours overnight and then hop in the race car in the morning...

Back In It, Again

2010-10-11T12:08:00.010-05:00

Yes, a year. It's been a year. And not a good one. Not racing hasn't helped.

Fortunately, I finally overcame my acute case of inertia and started working on racing things last month. The car was still in good shape from the last race in October 2009 (much better than I was). It was almost ready to go. Just a few issues needed to be addressed.

First, the restraints had expired at the end of last year. Even if they hadn't, they would have been too short to get around me (I'm twice the driver I once was), and the right shoulder strap had been rubbing on the fuel cell outlet fitting. The fraying was minimal, but it wouldn't make a tech inspector happy. Replacing the harness means removing the sidepods, which exposed Problem #1: The fire system tubing was broken. Way back in 2004, the fire bottle had broken out of its mount (since replaced with a stronger mount) and spent some unknown number of laps at Grattan -- plus the ride home from Grattan -- hanging by the tubing. The tubing managed to hold for a few years after, but the stress was finally too much. This gave me an opportunity to reroute the tubing a little more directly and securely, but it required a few pieces from the hardware store. Problem #2: The fuel cell fitting was still in the way of the shoulder strap. This was easy to solve. The fitting is offset on a round plate held in place by 6 screws. Unscrew, rotate the plate 2 positions (120 degrees), and the fitting is out of the way. Both of those jobs gave me a great sense of accomplishment, but also a real "duh" feeling -- why didn't I notice the easy solutions before they became problems?

Once the belts were in and the sidepods were back on, I changed the oil filter, put in fresh Red Line oil, and charged the battery. The car cranked eagerly and fired up pretty quickly. It sounded just as good as ever.

In the Sunday paper on September 26, I found out that the Classic Thunderbird Club of Wisconsin would be holding a car show at a Ford dealership just down the road from me to benefit Children's Hospital of Wisconsin. A good cause, at a Ford dealership, just a mile or two away -- how could I not go? Plus, I enjoy showing the car. Car shows are like very very low-stress race weekends. You get to take the car out and be around car people; you just don't have the stress (or enjoyment) of actually racing. The short tow also revealed two more problems that needed to be addressed. The trailer lights were only working at about 25% -- I had just one taillight and one brake light. And the trailer was making this weird "rongrongrongrong" noise going down the road. The bearings were toast. Rust, actually. The long, wet winter had corroded the bearings badly. It took a few days (and 5 trips to 3 different parts stores) to get the trailer rewired with new lights and to replace all of the bearings, but it was all done and ready to roll by midweek before the race.

The last problem standing in the way of me racing again was the small issue of a suit. Despite almost-daily exercise, I still couldn't fit into either of my driver's suits. Bruce Lindstrand offered to lend me his for the weekend, but since I really didn't know if it would fit, I decided to just buy a new suit. Yes, that's 3 now. But at least one of them fits me.

Like last year, this race was a 4-race weekend, with a qualifying session Saturday morning, two 8-lap sprint races Saturday, another 8-lap sprint on Sunday morning, and an 18-lap "feature" race Sunday afternoon. The lack of downtime worried me, but I figured that the short sprint races would be a good way to work myself back in.

I was right. For qualifying, I tried to find another car to follow (Formula Vees especially are a great car to warm up behind -- they're all about corner speed and smoothness; the relative lack of outright speed helps to calm the nerves and get you out of your own head), but I was all alone. The best lap I managed was a 1:24.5 -- not embarrassing, reasonable for the first session after a 363-day hiatus, and close to my weekend goal of a 1:21. That put me behind an F500, two FVs, and a Formula First, ahead of several other Vees and at least one Formula Ford, but separated from the other CFFs and FFs by those few VW engines.

I didn't realize how badly I had needed a car to follow during qualifying. I think it was the second lap of the race (the first chance I had to glance at my lap timer), I turned a 1:20, and it felt easier than the :24 I had done in qualifying. I passed the FVs and the FST, and settled in to follow the F500. He was fast on the straights but slower in some corners -- not all of them, but where it mattered to me: I got a good run out of corner 6 and passed him exiting the silo turn. My best lap time ended up being a 1:19.2 -- just half a second away from my best.

When I started the car for the second sprint race, something weird happened with my tachometer. It said the car was idling at 5000rpm. I knew that wasn't right (or helpful), so I switched the car off and tried again. Then I saw what had happened. On this brand, when you turn on the ignition, the needle goes backwards and bumps against a stop pin located between 0 and 8000, then it comes back to rest at zero. The little stop pin had fallen out, so the needle swung all the way around to 4000, then settled back at 5000. The second time I switched on, the needle swung to about 5000, then settled around 6000. A few more clicks on and off, and it came back to just a bit below zero. Close enough!

The grid for the second sprint race was set by finishing positions from the first race, so I had improved my starting position considerably. I was in front of the Vees and next to the F500, with the other CFFs in sight ahead of me. But a few fast cars DNF'ed in the first race, so they would start at the back. I forgot all about that part. Fortunately I hadn't moved over too far to let the yellow blur that was Dan Cobb's F500 squeeze between me and the pit wall on the start. That startled me enough that the other F500 next to me got ahead of me going into corner 1, but I passed him a few laps later in the silo turn again. With the tach reading inaccurately, it was tough to really push the car hard for fear of over-revving. I did discover that the shift light still worked, but I would have given anything for a rev limiter.

I was also using that session to scrub in a new set of tires, but for some reason I just couldn't break out of the 1:20s. Rolling through the scales at impound, I found the culprit. The wheels I chose for the new tires weigh some 30 pounds more than the other set I was using! That's 7 1/2 extra pounds of unsprung, rotating mass on each corner. I immediately felt better about my driving -- and worse about my equipment.

For the first sprint on Sunday I was gridded with only one car between me and the other CFFs. When we lined up on the track, I was directly behind Mike Green in the Hawke, with Tom Tipsword's Van Diemen next to him and Alan Murray in Tom Stillwell's Swift FF next to me. I almost got Alan on the start, but by the end of lap 1 we were in grid order again: Tom, Mike, Alan, me. Tom had been running very fast times on Saturday, but he was getting balked by a slower car. meanwhile, Alan tried to pass Mike -- who wasn't having any of it -- and spun off in corner 3. I was close behind Mike, but I knew that we would never have a chance if we battled with each other, so I vowed to stay in 3rd and try to help Mike catch Tom.

Narrowly avoiding a 3-car pileup in corner 6

For several laps we were nose-to-tail, with Mike threatening Tom in a few corners. Mike and I pulled out to draft past Tom on the front straight, but we couldn't quite make it work. (Now I'm wondering if I should have kept trying -- I had to lift to stay behind Mike...) They pulled away from me a little bit by the end, but I was close enough to see that Tom spent the last lap on defense. He played it brilliantly, and so did Mike. Tom somehow made his car very very wide, but Mike kept looking for an opening and trying to force Tom into a mistake. The most brilliant part is that neither one pressed the point too hard, and they both finished in one piece. It was just exciting to watch. The 1:18.571 on my lap timer didn't hurt either. That beat my personal best by 0.137 second!

The only other problem of the weekend cropped up in impound. When I hit the starter button to drive back to my paddock spot, all I got was a "CLUNK". Something was wrong with the starter... or the relay... or the battery... I would call it unlucky except for one very important thing: All day Saturday, we pushed the car back from impound. Sunday morning, we were not directed to report to impound, but most of us went anyway. If I hadn't gone to impound, or if I hadn't decided to try to drive the car back, my first warning could have been when I tried to start the car on the grid for the feature. As it happened, the two starter mounting bolts both fell out, leaving the starter hanging by the power cable. The pinion gear end was just supported in the bellhousing. The pinion was just clear of the flywheel ring gear, and the positive terminal was just barely not touching the frame. That was the other lucky thing. Half an inch in either direction would have been disastrous: a shorted terminal would have burned out the starter at least; hitting the flywheel would have ground the ring gear off the flywheel (so replacing the starter wouldn't make a difference); a broken cable could have let the starter fall out on the track and really ruin someone's day. And then, I had just 2 of the correct size bolts in my spares. Maybe I should have packed up and gone home. I had certainly used up all of my luck for one day!

This is what it looks like when you have to work on the starter.

The feature race on Sunday afternoon was exciting, but for the wrong reasons. I got stuck in traffic a few laps in, so I didn't get close enough to see the CFF battle in front of me. Still, there was still plenty to keep my eyes occupied. The FST was stopped on the outside the silo turn, maybe after spinning. Corner 7 was yellow for an incident I couldn't spot. The next lap, I saw a rescue truck on the side of the track at 7, again for no apparent reason. Then I finally saw a flash of red deep in the weeds -- I couldn't identify the car, but someone had gotten stuck off-track. A few cars did some really amazing things (amazing in a bad way) in front of me. It seemed that every corner had a debris flag up at some point, and the yellow flags got quite a workout as well. A tailpipe was left sitting on track in front of the corner 6A station. But perhaps most importantly... I passed Tom Tipsword as he was limping his car back to the pits. He had blown a water hose in his battle with Mike, which gave Mike an easy win and me an unearned second place.

If you don't count the bruises, sore muscles, sore lungs, and pounding headache, I feel pretty good about the weekend.

Next stop: Mid-Ohio.

Is that 4, or is that 5?

2009-10-21T13:53:00.008-05:00

For the Fall Sprints, the last CenDiv Regional race of the season, Chicago Region decided to spice things up a bit. Instead of a single race spread out over two days, or 2 races (one race each day), they put together a 4-race schedule. The first three races would be 8-lap sprint races, with each race setting the grid for the following race. The last race would be an 18-lap "feature" race. The feature race would be the only one that counted towards the Regional championship, but each of the four races would count towards a "weekend" championship.

I was looking forward to the quick sprint races, but not to the weather. Friday (towing day) was cold and rainy all day, and the forecast for the weekend called for highs in the 40s and overnight lows below freezing. I pulled out the long underwear, gloves, and winter coats.

When we got to Blackhawk Farms Raceway Saturday morning, a layer of frost covered everything (sound familiar?) and the track was a little wet, but the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. The morning qualifying session was difficult because the cold weather made for some great horsepower, but it also took away a lot of traction. On top of that, the track was wet in several spots, including the front straight. Any heat that built up in the tires would be rinsed away before corner 1, which made braking dicey. I got a little spooked after locking the brakes a few times. That plagued me for the rest of the weekend, and I braked too early every lap. Still, the lap times were promising for such challenging conditions. 1:31, 1:27, 1:28, 1:26... then a 1:24.6 on the last lap! That last lap was good enough to catapult me to the CFF pole. (Mike Green had tried using tire warmers before the session. He warmed the tires up to 170 degrees before going out. When he came back, the tires were all at 80 degrees.)

Sprint 1 Grid (top 10):

FF 22 John Spinello 1:21.6

FF 38 Dan Johnson 1:22.1

FF 10 Steve Barkley 1:23.8

CFF 65 John Haydon 1:24.6

CFF 7 Mike Green 1:25.3

FV 88 Hal Adkins

FV 19 Matt King

FF 49 John Luxon

FV 70 Daniel Eick

CFF 15 Bruce Drenth

When the green flag came out for Sprint 1, I got a jump on Mike and took a defensive line into corner 1. He tucked in behind me, but somehow I carried more speed and managed to open up a comfortable gap before corner 3. When I stopped watching my mirrors, I realized that I was close enough to the three lead FFs that I was in a good position to challenge Spinello for 3rd overall! Just as I was trying to talk myself into settling for 4th overall and the class win, Spinello dropped out. A lap later, William Cobb in a F500 passed me for 3rd overall. I would have liked to finish higher overall, but as my dad said later, "You won your class, and you can't get any firster than first!"

Many of us (including me) had assumed that the finishing order from each sprint would set the grid for the next race. We were a little surprised to learn that the grid would actually be set by fast lap time during the race, not by finishing position. Clever -- but it cost me a grid spot! While I settled in and cruised to the finish, Mike had actually turned a faster lap trying to chase me down. Touche'.

Sprint 2 Grid (top 7):

F500 28 Cobb 1:17.9*

FF 38 Johnson 1:18.6

FF 10 Barkley 1:18.9

FF 22 Spinello 1:21.5

CFF 7 Green 1:22.3

CFF 65 John Haydon 1:22.5

FF 49 Luxon 1:22.8

*Cobb did not go out for the morning qualifying session. He started Sprint 1 at the back of the grid and worked his way up to 3rd overall, setting fast lap of the race in the process.

When I saw the results from Sprint 1 and the grid for Sprint 2, it struck me how well I was keeping up with the FFs. These cars usually run soft-compound tires, which offer better traction than the hard spec tires that CFFs run. Then it dawned on me: The FFs couldn't get an advantage because the cold weather prevented their tires from getting warm enough to be effective. (Cold? It snowed during the lunch break!) The CFF hard tires, on the other hand, never get very sticky, so their behavior in the cold is about the same as it is on a hot day. Another thing working to my advantage is the fact that I have spent the majority of my racing career on old, used tires which have very little stickiness left. For the first several years, I actually raced on street tires. I'm not used to relying on sticky tires.

Before Sprint 2 started, Dan Johnson told me that he had one shock absorber that had failed. I was a little surprised that he decided not to run in Sprint 2 (he had set the fastest FF time with the failed shock, after all) and at least set a time so he wouldn't have to chase from the back in Sprint 3. But he decided to try to locate a replacement shock, probably because he would only have to set a good lap time in Sprint 3 (not finish well) to grid well for the feature.

When Dan didn't show to the grid, that put me one row behind Mike. He got a good jump on me and led me for the first 3 laps. I stayed on his tail to try to find an advantage. Finally I got a good run coming out of corner 6 and managed to get in front of him before corner 7. I wasn't able to catch the leaders this time, but I got down to a 1:21.5 and once again settled in for a 4th overall finish and another class win.

Sprint 3 Grid (top 8):

F500 28 Cobb 1:16.9

FF 22 Spinello 1:18.6

FF 10 Barkley 1: 19.0

FF 49 Luxon 1:20.4

CFF 65 John Haydon 1:21.5

FV 81 Bertolucci 1:22.1

CFF 7 Green 1:22.5*

CFF 15 Drenth 1:22.5*

*Green's and Drenth's fast lap times matched to 0.001 second. They were actually gridded by their second-fastest lap times, which differed by 0.041 seconds.

Sunday morning dawned just as cold and frosty as Saturday. It was so cold, the Stewards decided that we should have two pace laps for each race, so we could have more of a chance to warm up engines and tires. That was a good decision, in my opinion. I even came up with a plan: The first lap would be spent warming the engine and tires; the second lap would be just for warming the left front tire and the brakes -- in anticipation of the right-hand corner 1.

When we gridded for Sprint 3, we were surprised to watch Cobb take the pole position and then drive back to his paddock spot. I'm not sure what happened there, but I'm assuming the cold was making his car misbehave. Which is odd, considering that F500s have snowmobile engines. That meant that the fastest car in the group would start the feature race at the back. Meanwhile, Johnson had found a new shock and was ready to start Sprint 3 from the back.

Once again the race start worked out in my favor. I accelerated away, but Green got balked by another car going into corner 1. That let me open up a comfortable lead on Green before the end of the first lap. Meanwhile, Johnson had made his way through the pack. He passed me in corner 1 on the second lap and passed Spinello soon after. He challenged Barkley for the overall lead, pulling out to pass in several corners, but he wasn't confident that he could make the pass, so he backed out and pulled back in line at the last moment. That dicing was slowing Barkley down enough that I caught up to the lead pack within a couple of laps, and three laps in a row I watched Johnson try to pass in corner 7, only to back out and concede the corner. Finally, he decided that he would make the pass, even if it meant forcing Barkley to back out. He pulled out to pass Barkley going into corner 7 again and tried to outbrake him. Unfortunately, he miscalculated and the car began a slow spin onto the grass on the inside of the corner. Spinello and I both saw this and backed off to let things unfold before we got to the corner. Johnson slid sideways through the grass, hit the curbing at the inside edge of the track... and his car barrel-rolled onto the track, sliding upside-down across the corner exit. Barkley came to a full stop to avoid him, but Spinello and I were both able to sneak around the mess, passing Barkley in the process.

Actually, I didn't quite make it. Barkley got going again just as I was next to him. He looked over and recognized that I wasn't in his class, so he was ready to let me go. Then he realized that Spinello was also in front of him, so he put his foot down to try to get the lead back. Unfortunately for him, this was the last lap and he didn't have enough time left to chase him down. I finished 3rd overall and got another class win.

Feature Race Grid (top 6):

FF 22 Spinello 1:23.1

FF 38 Johnson 1:23.5

CFF 65 John Haydon 1:23.8

FF 10 Barkley 1:23.8

CFF 7 Green 1:24.7

FF 49 Luxon 1:25.6

With Johnson out, that put me on the front row. We went out for the pace lap(s) and we all proceeded to toss the cars back and forth, trying to scrub some heat into the tread. Back and forth, back and forth... but as we exited corner 5, I realized just how tired I was. My arms were completely exhausted! I didn't know how I could make it through a second pace lap, much less 18 race laps.

Thank goodness for adrenaline. The green flag flew and Spinello and I dashed for corner 1. Luxon and Cobb both passed Green on the first lap, giving me a bit of a gap. Barkley passed me somewhere in the first lap as well, but I still had the CFF lead. About halfway through the race I caught up to a Formula Vee and lapped him just before corner 7. Once I was past him (and just before Green and Luxon had passed him), he spun. That opened up my lead a little, and I was able to relax a bit. I tried to be conservative, telling myself that steady 1:21s should keep me in front. When I looked at my lap timer several minutes later, I saw that I had done a 1:20.9. Then a 1:19.9. 1:19.8. Finally, I got down to a 1:19.007 -- just 0.3 seconds slower than my best time ever. I finished 4th overall, with another class win.

Winning my class in each of the four races secured the "Weekend Championship", which was an excellent way to finish off another Regional Championship in CFF.

So that's 2 Midwestern Council championships and 2 Regional Championships. Can I count the Weekend Championship as a 5th?

No Stick, No Go, No Stop, No Clue... No Problem!

2009-08-24T11:44:00.002-05:00

The last time I raced on the Wisconsin State Fair Park / Milwaukee Mile infield road course was in 2005. Since then, another layer of asphalt has been added to smooth out the infield course and especially the transitions from the oval to the road course. Still, I thought I would have an advantage over those who had never raced there before when we finally went back for a double Regional race last weekend.

It turns out that sometimes a clean slate is better than a memory.

The track was terribly dirty and dusty for the first qualifying session on Saturday. When the track isn't being used as a track, it (and the grass around it) serves as a parking lot for people attending the State Fair and other functions at the fairgrounds. Unfortunately, it rained heavily during one or two days of the fair this year, so a lot of mud was left on the track surface. Some of the animals at the fair also used the track as an outhouse, and the resulting mess was too much for even the track sweepers to scrub off completely. As if the slippery conditions and dusty atmosphere weren't enough, the track didn't even go the way I remembered. Every line that I thought I knew was wrong. I qualified last in CFF and 13th overall, 2 rows back from Pete Wood and not even in sight of polesitter Mike Green. I still don't know how they managed to get enough grip to go as fast as they did without off-road tires. I think I would have gone just as fast on the grass as on the track.

Saturday's race started well. I got a good run off the last corner, and the green flag was out just as soon as I could see the starter's stand. I got around the F500 in front of me and tried to tuck in behind Pete, but just as we passed the start-finish line, my car sputtered. It was a familiar feeling, but I tried hard to tell myself that it didn't happen and that everything was fine. I downshifted for corner 1 and followed Pete through. I got on the throttle and felt like I had hit the rev limiter. I shifted to 2nd and set the car up for corner 2 before I realized... my car doesn't have a rev limiter. Just then the car sputtered again. It was starving for fuel and wouldn't pull all the way to redline. That might not have been so bad except that this track is basically 4 flat-out stretches connected by 3 hairpins and a flat-out sweeper. As I exited the corner 4 hairpin, the car sputtered earlier and earlier in the rev band. I watched everyone speed past me as I tried desperately to make it back to the pits with the engine coughing and misfiring the whole way. The next thing I knew, I was on the front straight again. I had missed the pit lane entrance! It would take another agonizingly slow lap before I would have another chance to find it. I just barely made it into the pits before the pack came around again to put me a lap down. I jumped out of the car and took the rear bodywork off, hoping to find an obvious problem like a pinched fuel line, or a loose fitting allowing the fuel pump to suck in air instead of fuel. No such luck. I sent someone running for a screwdriver so I could take the top of the carburetor off. Lucky for me, John Vlasis happened to be in the pits. He came over and noticed right away that the carburetor float bowl was almost empty. Since the float appeared to be in good shape (not broken or leaking), he suggested that the float level had somehow been mis-adjusted. I was willing to believe that, since I had adjusted it just last week! He offered to do a "quick and dirty" adjustment, and I eagerly accepted. He couldn't possibly make it worse. He bent the float to what he estimated would be a super-rich condition and put the carb top back on while I got back in the car. I looked at the lap counter and saw there were still 8 laps to go of an 18-lap race. I needed at least 9 laps to be considered a finisher. As I got buckled in, I saw the starters change the lap counter to 7. Should I still go back out? Let's see, I had 2 laps already. Add 7 more. That's 9! If I could just keep from going another lap down, I'd have a finish. I took off out of the pits and the car ran flawlessly. It popped and backfired a bit on trailing throttle, but that was to be expected with all the extra fuel. I got passed immediately by the 3rd place CFF, and I did everything I could to stay on his tail. He pulled away a bit each lap, but I still managed to knock 2 seconds off of my qualifying time. And I got exactly 9 laps, enough for an official 4th-place finish.

Why did the carburetor lean out so much? I have no idea, and that's what bothers me. The last time that carburetor was opened was in 2005 when Bruce Lindstrand set the float level for me. The car ran flawlessly since then, but most engine builders advise that the float level should be checked after every event. I never did because the car ran so well. Last week I figured that I was living on borrowed time and I should check it. It seemed to be just a little bit richer than it should be, which I thought was odd. Still, I leaned it out just a hair -- not even all the way to the recommended level. It also ran just fine Saturday morning in qualifying. We speculated that the needle valve could have stuck closed, but on my second "limping" lap I hit a pothole, bottoming the car on the track surface and jarring everything so hard that I can't imagine that it wouldn't have been knocked loose. It's just possible that some debris could have gotten on the seat for the needle valve, sticking it closed like glue (as opposed to some grit getting in between the two sliding parts of the valve), and that when John bent the float tang in the pits, the pressure on the needle valve was enough to break the grip of whatever was gluing it closed. It's a mystery, which means I don't know what to do to prevent it from happening again. But Bruce reset the float level after the race, which seems to have made it happy again. My fingers are crossed.

Sunday morning qualifying started better than Saturday's race, mainly because the car ran without any issues. I also tried to forget what I thought I knew about the track and just follow the fast cars. Unfortunately, as I started to really learn the track, the brake pedal started going soft. Within a few laps, the pedal was going to the floor without slowing the car. There was no way I would be able to turn any better laps, so I pulled in early. When I checked the car between sessions, I found that both brake fluid reservoirs were nearly empty! A failing master cylinder would have ended my weekend, but when I went to unscrew the caps, they both just fell off in my hands. I had neglected to tighten them all the way, and the brake fluid simply sloshed out.

I only took a couple of tenths off of my lap times, but it was good enough to qualify on the same row as Pete Wood with a 1:20.3. Pete pointed out that the 4 CFFs qualified at 1:17, 1:18, 1:19, and 1:20. Not a tremendously tight field, but at least Mike, Pete, and I would be within 3 rows of each other. After the session I watched some other cars in the corner 4 hairpin. The fastest cars were taking a very different line than what I was doing. It was definitely worth a try! I should have taken a walk down to the two corners where the track exits and enters the oval. I probably could have picked up several seconds there.

The race start went well for me. The green flag came out a bit later this time, but I got a great jump on the FST in front of me, and Pete and I passed Mike going into corner 1. The infield course is very narrow, and it suddenly looked very crowded. I actually laid back a little bit, expecting to see at least one car go cartwheeling through the air, but I should have known better. Everyone made it through cleanly and started to spread out a bit as we approached the hairpin. I tried my new line entering the hairpin, but as I turned in, I was surprised to see Butch Deer's FST right next to me -- in the grass! Apparently he had followed me a few laps in qualifying and expected me to take the same line as I had been doing, which would have left him plenty of room to drive inside me. I got lucky once more. Butch is an excellent driver, and he was able to keep his car under control despite the total lack of pavement under it. There are many drivers who would have ended up on top of me. But we made it through, and the field started to spread out a bit. Pete and I were pretty evenly matched with a couple of FST cars, and we battled back and forth for several laps. Around lap 8, I followed Pete into the hairpin, but it was clear he wasn't on the right line. He slid off the track and let me pass, but he didn't lose much time. He kept the car moving and pointed in the right direction, and I heard later that I only had about a 3 second lead on him at the end of that lap. Two or three laps later, he passed me back and held me off for the rest of the race. I got close, but never quite close enough to challenge. Mike ran into an ignition issue during the race, so I managed to finish 3rd. Pete turned a 1:17.9, and I managed to get down to a 1:18.9 trying to catch him.

One thing became very clear during the weekend: My tires are no longer any good. One thing I am sure of from 2005 is that I was able to take the long sweeper (turns 1 & 2 on the oval) flat out in 4th gear with only a little lift at the entry and slight throttle modulation in the middle. This year, I had to stab the brakes hard before the turn and I could only hold about 3/4 throttle through the turn.

The engine, on the other hand, is doing very well. When the carburetor was working, the engine pulled hard all the way to 6800 rpm. In fact, it accelerated so quickly that I almost over-revved exiting the hairpin a few times. A fresh Farley cylinder head will do that for you, apparently.

More Competition

2009-07-17T13:07:00.002-05:00

The third race weekend of the year (yes, here we are in July and there have been only 3 race weekends) was the Blackhawk Valley Region "Firecracker" at Blackhawk Farms Raceway . This event is usually a double Regional (one race Saturday and one race Sunday), but to encourage more entries, BVR made it a quad Regional, with two races each day. This weekend would effectively count as one-third of the season.

The four-race schedule had me in a bit of a panic. Would there be enough time between sessions to take care of a full nut-and-bolt check? Would I have time to change out of my driver's suit? When would I eat lunch?? It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I realized what a goof I was being. Circle track racers run as many sessions in a single night as I would be running over the course of two days. Why was I so worried?

Early entries looked promising, with 4 cars pre-registered. Marty Handberg would be bringing his Tiga, Alan Murray would have his Crossle, and Bob Hall would bring his Crossle. Unfortunately, Bob backed out early in the week. I think he ended up running at Watkins Glen with Pete Wood instead. But the three of us could still have some fun races together. After I got to the track, though, I found that Alan couldn't bring his car. Now it was down to just Marty and me.

On the other hand, there were many more Fomula First entries than usual. We normally run together with FST, F500, and FV, but the total entries for that group were over 30. Meanwhile there were only 9 cars in the FA / FB / FC / FE / CSR / DSR / S2000 group, so the stewards decided to even things out by moving the FF and CFF cars to the FA group. That was just fine with me. That moved us from Group 2 to Group 4, and I love being in a later group. That also meant that our first race would be the first session after lunch.

It was a hot, sticky weekend, so I chose my oldest, hardest race tires. I figured that anything newer and softer would just overheat, and I wasn't far off. I felt like I had good traction all weekend, and the tires were still in decent shape Sunday night. But it rained Friday night, and it threatened to rain Saturday, so I brought rain tires with me too. They weren't needed, and I took them home Saturday night.

Saturday's morning qualifying session went well. The car was running strong, and the handling felt solid. The track was a little greasy, so everyone was running a little slow. I qualified with a 1:22.9, one second faster than Marty but still on the same row.

I quickly changed out of my driver's suit and started the nut-and-bolt check before the car had cooled off. I ran through the list and realized that I still had about 2 hours before the race! That was more than enough time for lunch and a bit of rest and relaxation. We had paddocked next to the grid lane, coincidentally within two spaces of my qualifying spot. All we had to do was push the car out from under the canopy and I was gridded.

The pace lap was rather fast, so there was no time to scrub the tires to heat them up. Lucky it was so hot outside. The green flag came out, and I looked for any way I could get in front of Marty. I looked to the right side of the track and considered a diving move into corner 1, but I thought better of it. If I wrote the car off in the first race of the weekend, I'd lose a lot more points than if I finished second. I decided just to try to stay with the cars in front of me for a few laps. I managed to gain a bit of ground, but what really helped me was when the leaders came to lap us. The lead cars seemed to time it just right for me and just wrong for him. I saw at least two of the lead cars outbrake Marty going into a corner, forcing them both to slow down. Both of those cars passed me on a straight, exiting a corner, so I lost no time at all. I don't think any of the leaders cost me any time when they lapped me, and the one car I lapped also didn't cost me any time.

On the victory lap, I came around the Silo turn to see that the corner 6A station was waving double yellow flags. That was a little odd. Not that they would have flags out on a victory lap, but that they would be double waving yellow. Officially, there is no "double waving yellow" in SCCA. The "official" conditions are standing (or stationary) yellow, waving yellow, or double yellow (a.k.a. full-course yellow). Before I could guess what they meant, I saw that another car was stopped on-track at corner 7, and a worker was waving the red flag at me. Now I was really confused. The car wasn't blocking the track, so couldn't I just drive around him? But the worker was signalling for me to pull in behind the other car. Just then, the other car pulled away, and I noticed that all three workers were wearing Hawaiian shirts. I stopped where they indicated. The man with the red flag shook my hand and congratulated me. Another man handed me a bottle of water, and a woman put a lei around my neck. How fun!

It turned out that Marty had also gotten slowed a little by battling with Tom Stillwell, who was turning similar lap times in a Swift FF. Marty tried to pass but realized that he would have to take too great a chance to do it. So I wasn't the only one who figured that finishing second would be smarter than finishing the weekend early. But the starting grid for the second race of the day would be based on the finishing positions from this race. That put me one row in front of Marty.

The interesting consequence of the grid being determined by finishing positions is that a few cars that ran into problems during the first race would have to start at the back of the grid. That would mean more traffic to deal with, but nobody in the group was trying to crowd or intimidate anyone else. I felt very safe with everyone.

We had just as much time for the nut-and-bolt check between races. I found a couple of loose fasteners that hadn't come loose in a few years, but everything looked good, and the car was running very strong. I sat down and tried to relax before the second race.

The grid for the second race had me directly behind Katie List in a yellow C Sports Racer on the outside lane with Marty in the next row directly behind me. On the start, Katie didn't accelerate as quickly as I expected. Just as I realized that I wasn't at full throttle, I also noticed a huge hole in the right lane. Orie Voigtmann's red Sports 2000 had been in the same row as Katie, but he took off quickly, and Tom Stillwell, whose Swift was next to me, didn't. I dove for the opening, passing Katie and almost passing someone else before corner 1. Again, I tried to stay with the cars in front of me for a while, but Marty did an even better job of staying with me. For at least the first four or five laps, he was right on my tail. I was starting to prepare myself for him passing me, when I realized that Katie had passed him. He didn't seem to be right behind her, either. When she passed me, I saw a comfortable gap between Marty and me. I just tried to concentrate on driving smoothly while I waited for the leaders. Once again, they seemed to want to pass Marty in the corners, but they almost always passed me on the straights. (Do I drive like a menace? Now I'm paranoid that nobody wants to share corners with me.) I made it to the end and stopped in corner 7 for another bottle of water and another lei. Later I found out that Marty's fastest lap in that race was a full second faster than mine. I would have to work even harder on Sunday.

Sunday was less humid but also less breezy than Saturday. Overall it felt a little cooler, but not by much. The hard tires would still be the right choice. We lined up for qualifying, and I tried to get close enough to Marty that I could draft him, or at least watch him. Unfortunately, we were separated and my pit signals weren't very useful. This time, he outqualified me by less than half a second.

For the race, Marty should have been gridded on the outside lane with me in the inside lane behind him, but I think someone in front of us may have been late to the grid, because I ended up in the outside lane on the same row. I was behind Jim Smalley in a Formula Mazda, and Marty was behind Katie List's CSR. Marty and I got a little behind on the pace lap somehow, and we ended up with a gap between us and the row in front of us as we exited corner 7. I could hear Marty get on the gas before the flag came out, and I reacted a little slowly. I got on the gas as well, but he was already well in front of me. Once again, though, I got lucky. The timing of the green flag was on my side. Marty caught up to Katie before the flag came out, and he had to get off the throttle. I was just far enough behind Marty that the green came out just before I would have had to lift -- and while Marty's foot was still off the throttle. If the timing had been any different, I'd have lost the battle. I passed Katie and followed Jim through the first few corners. He shook me fairly early though, and Katie passed me soon after, but by then, Marty was nowhere in sight. He disappeared so quickly, I was worried that he may have gotten tangled in an incident on the first lap. I wasn't getting any pit signals, so I had no idea what was going on with him. For all I knew, he could have been in front of me. I tried to signal my crew that I wanted to know where he was, but before they could respond, I saw him in front of me! By then, the checkered flag was out, but it was clear that he was having car troubles. It sounded awful on the cool-off lap. One more lei.

It turned out that the top plate of his carburetor had come loose, and he was suffering from a terrible vacuum leak. My crew relaxed when they heard his car popping and banging, but they neglected to let me know about it. Marty told me later that he made a bad mistake on the start after the green flag too. A Formula C car which had lapped the field on Saturday had a different driver today, but he didn't know that. He let the car go, figuring that the driver must have had a problem in the morning qualifying session. But on Sunday, the driver's fastest lap time was only a second faster than Marty's fast time -- which, once again, was one second faster than mine.

The grid for the second race was similar to the second race on Saturday. I was in the outside lane behind Lyle Rundhaug's D Sports Racer, with Gayle Gaborski in the FC next to me and Marty directly behind me. This time, Marty didn't let Gayle go first. But I got a good start again. I moved over to the inside lane to try to pass Lyle. He got back in front of me and also passed Tony Foster's Swift before the corner, so I followed Tony through the first few corners. Marty was on my tail again, but within a lap or two, Alex Murray (who had been having bad luck with his FC all weekend) was ready to pass us as he moved up through the pack. He separated us a bit, but it wasn't until the leaders came around that I got a comfortable lead on Marty. I never really did relax, but I could concentrate on driving smoothly, instead of trying to stay in front. It paid off with another lei.

But the biggest victory of the weekend was that for the first time since 2005, I don't feel like I'm fighting the car anymore. In 2005, I felt like I was on the same wavelength as the car. It felt like it was obvious what to do. When I needed more cornering speed, I would do this. When I needed to brake later, I would do that. The car would always do what I needed, and sometimes it felt like I didn't even need to know what to do. But since 2006, I've felt like I just couldn't get it right. The car wouldn't turn in -- or was I cranking the wheel too hard? The back end would step out in a corner -- or had I just lifted? And I just couldn't trust the brakes not to lock the wheels coming into a corner. I had actually started to coast coming into some corners because the car just didn't feel right. I'm not sure what changed, but this weekend, I was able to keep my foot down much later. The car always did what I needed, and it seemed like I knew what to do again. It was an amazing feeling, and had I finished 8th, it still would have felt great to have that back again.

TRO Central Division Championship CFF points:
John Haydon 100
Marty Handberg 64
Bruce Drenth 28
Alan Murray 24
Peter Wood 15

Each lei has a laminated tag attached that reads:
"I got LEI'D at turn 7."

Competition

2009-07-16T11:45:00.004-05:00

After the minimal turnout at the first Regional of the season, it was encouraging to see that 6 Club Formula Fords were entered for the double Regional at Road America at the end of May. Again, mixed feelings. Six is much better than one, but I'm getting excited over just 6 cars. There was a day when 20 cars was a pathetic showing. But I'll still take 6 over 1.

The car needed a new battery, a new water temperature gauge (to replace the borrowed electrical gauge), a gear change, and a thorough drying-out. Everything went smoothly, but for some reason I ended up with a 3rd gear that is just a bit taller than ideal for Road America. I think the preferred gear may have been in the transmission that burned up at Blackhawk in 2005, and I had just lived without it since then.

The weather threatened to be a repeat of the April race, but Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny. It stayed that way just long enough for us to unload everything from the truck. Then it started raining. We loaded everything back into the truck... and the rain stopped. So we unloaded everything again to let it dry... and the rain started again. We went back and forth at least three times before it started to really rain. But the sun was starting to poke through in the west.

So, would it be wet or dry? Time was running out, and we had to make a decision in time to change the setup for the first qualifying session. I decided to gamble on a dry session, while Pete Wood did the opposite. I got lucky. The sun came out and stayed out, and the cars on track immediately before us dried the track pretty thoroughly. It didn't rain the rest of the weekend. Fortunately for Pete, the session was long enough that he was able to duck into the pits, change tires, and still get a few laps in.

I was a little disappointed in my performance that weekend. My fastest lap time all weekend was a 2:41.6, three seconds slower than my best, and only good enough for 4th place. On Saturday, Pete dropped out with an engine problem, but Marty Handberg passed me for 3rd, and I just couldn't challenge.

Sunday was much better, though my lap times didn't really show it. Pete pulled into the CFF lead on the start and held it for the first lap. Bruce Drenth, who had qualified on the CFF pole, passed him back and used the aerodynamics of his Eagle chassis to run away from the rest of us. Alan Murray had also gotten a poor start, dropping all the way back to 5th, but by the third lap, he charged past Marty coming into Canada Corner. He was trying to pass me too, but I closed the door and made him try again. And try again he did -- in corner 14. He passed Pete on the front straight, but not before giving me a bit of a tow, which brought me back in sight of Pete.

The rest of the race, I worked on getting to within striking distance of Pete. I got close, but never close enough to make a legitimate challenge for 3rd. Finally, on the last lap, I got close enough to draft him on the front straight. I pulled out to pass... and realized that my too-tall 3rd gear cost me enough acceleration on the steep hill that I couldn't quite draw even with him. Fourth again, but at least this time the gap was down from 2.3 seconds to 0.14 seconds.

Now we have a points race!

John Haydon 44 points
Bruce Drenth 28 points
Alan Murray 24 points
Peter Wood 15 points

O the Drama

2009-07-15T17:04:00.004-05:00

Where to begin? If you don't mind, I'll try to start at the beginning of the interesting stuff.

April 26 was the first SCCA race of the season. It was a one-day single Regional race at Blackhawk Farms Raceway, capping off a three-day weekend that included two days of driver's schools. The students who attended and passed both driver's schools would qualify to run the Regional on Sunday, and to encourage entries, this was designated as a double-points event. Still, entries were very light. I was the only Club Formula Ford entered.

Unfortunately, it rained for much of the weekend. By Sunday morning, many paddock spots were underwater. The rain came and went through the day, but every time it stopped, it just came back that much harder later on.

I had parked under the Lindstrand Motorsports tent in an attempt to stay dry. Allen Wheatcroft and I both waited until the very last moment before going out for qualifying. When you're moving, at least in the Tiga, rain doesn't have much of a chance to fall into the cockpit of the car. I managed to stay pretty dry that session. The wet conditions kept my lap times up in the 1:55s, but I kept the car on the track and facing in the right direction.

The car didn't need much maintenance between sessions, which was lucky. It's hard to work on a precision machine when you're parked in the middle of a muddy lake. As we waited for the race, the clouds seemed to part. We even saw something resembling sunlight in the sky. For the first time all day, the predawn half-light gave way, and it really seemed to be the middle of the day instead of the end. But not long after Allen and I commented on that, the sky really opened up. Just in time for us to push our cars to the grid.

I mentioned before that you can stay fairly dry when the car is moving through the rain. When you're sitting still on the grid for 10 minutes, you give the rain a much better chance of hitting you. Over and over and over.

By the time we rolled out onto the track for the pace lap, the rain had soaked through my driver's suit and had even splashed onto the inside of my helmet visor. The wind might clear the rain off the outside of the visor, but there wasn't much I could do about the rain on the inside. Shaking my head back and forth didn't do much. I would just have to live with the blurriness.

We set off for the pace lap (still shaking my head), and I immediately discovered some new things. I had seen a deep puddle on the track at the apex of corner 3A before, but I had never seen standing water anywhere else. It turns out that when it rains really hard for a couple of days, standing water collects in a lot of new places. One of these places is the apex of corner 1. And it turns out that when you drive right through a deep enough puddle, you create a really big wave, like a wall of water taller than the car. The next thing that happens after you create this wave is you drive right through it. When that happens, a shocking amount of said wave ends up in your lap. In case you're wondering how that could possibly be shocking, it's because the temperature never got above 50 degrees, and all that icy water ended up, as I said, in my lap. I hit similar puddles (with similar results) in 3A (yes, I should have known), the braking zone for 4, 6, and 7. And I kept hitting them throughout the race. Each time I would make a mental note to avoid it on the next lap, but it was like my mental notes kept getting washed away.

The only scary moment in the race was when the car suddenly slowed while exiting corner 4 about halfway through the race. It felt incredibly harsh inside the car, like someone had turned off the engine for a second. Oddly, I have a hard time picking it out in the video. Could it be that I'm really concentrating that much harder, and I'm that much more tuned in to the car when I'm driving, that the slightest hesitation feels like an eternity in freefall? Or am I just a drama queen?

Back to the point: The car stumbled under acceleration. It felt a bit like it was out of gas (I know that feeling well), but I had filled the fuel before the start. Plus, we were running so slowly, I would probably only burn about 2 gallons during the race. The only other possibility I could think of was that the battery was dying. Moments later, my onboard lap time display confirmed my suspicions by displaying a very helpful blank screen.

The battery I was running that weekend came with the car in 2004. I have no reason to doubt that it was the same one Pete Wood had been using in 2003 and 2002. Seven years of racing, and I never replaced it? Keeping a battery for 5 years in a street car is pushing your luck, as far as I'm concerned. Now here I was, taxing this antique battery with the added demands of the rain light and an electrical temperature gauge. What was I thinking?

If there's one thing I know about, it's nursing an ailing car to the finish. That's not to say that I'm any good at it, but I've read about it a lot. The ignition system needs maximum battery voltage under heavy acceleration, so it was time to ease up and coast a lot. I considered turning off the rain light, but I would have been black-flagged without it. The race was nearly halfway through, and all I needed was a finish. As miserable and soggy and cold as I was, I preferred some slow track time to an early ending to the race.

In Impound, we discovered that the car now weighed a full 8 pounds more than it had after qualifying. All of it was water.

Almost as soon as the race was over, the clouds parted and the sun came out. It didn't matter much; everything inside the truck was soaked, too.

Anarchy Dingo

2009-06-10T15:51:00.004-05:00

The Internet is a wonderful tool that allows you to find out really useful things. It also allows you to find out that an anagram of Haydon Racing is "Anarchy Dingo".

I can't decide which version I like better.

Isn't that just the cutest little anarchist you ever saw? He makes me want to denounce all property as theft. On the other hand, I really want a stuffed animal version of him.

Shame

2009-01-30T15:45:00.005-06:00

Yes, I am writing this post purely out of shame. The kind of shame that comes with not writing anything in three months.

It's that time of year, though, and the excuses are the same as last year: It's too cold to do anything with the car, I've been working on the catalog, and I'm in hibernation. There is a new excuse on this year's list: We're still dealing with the basement rebuild. This week was the first time in 6 months that actually mopping the (new) basement floor looked like it wouldn't be a total waste of time. And even that took three hours and almost an entire box of Swiffer pads. The construction dust was so thick that it would completely clog a pad after about 5 square feet. The sponge mop only rearranged the dust into fascinating new patterns.

The catalog just arrived today (it will be in the mail to you shortly, don't panic), and once again it looks like the best we've ever done. I can't take as much credit this year though. The choice of paper and ink and printer and presses combined to make the photos and really pop. The blacks are actually black this year, not just dark grey. The type looks sharper as well. And then there's all that wonderful text and layout work. I'll autograph your copy if you bring me a Sharpie. (No, not a Shar Pei. It's hard to write with a dog.)

If I may be permitted to whine a bit about the weather: BRRR!! I heard last night that we had 24 consecutive days this month with a high temperature below freezing. Three days in a row we had a high in the single digits, and for three nights the lows were in the teens below zero. That's Fahrenheit, folks. Not Celsius.

I have been told to be thankful for cold winters, because that helps to control the bug population. On the other hand, the mountains of snow on the ground have probably insulated the little critters pretty well. I'll bet they're loving life right now. Jerks. I should probably mention here that I was stung by a bee at the last race. Stupid little thing flew right into me, landed on my neck under the collar of my driver's suit, and then the little turkey had the nerve (and the stinger) to blame me for it. Moron.

The trailer is currently buried behind the garage, and the car is buried inside the garage. I expect that's how things will stay for at least a few more weeks. I had planned all kinds of projects for the car to get it ready for the Formula Ford 40th Birthday Party race at Road America in July, but of course I haven't started any of them. The good news is that only two of them are really important: Checking the engine bearings and revising the shoulder harness mounting points.

What's wrong with the current shoulder belt mounts? The Tiga was designed before anyone ever thought about head and neck restraint devices, so the mounts are about 10 inches apart. Unfortunately, the HANS Device (virtually the standard head and neck restraint these days) requires the shoulder belt mount spacing to be no more than 6 inches center-to-center. Bruce Lindstrand had modified the mounts on the LMI Tiga, and I was hoping to copy his design. It is a very clever design: It brings the belts closer together, it's a stronger mount (the belts are anchored to two square tubes instead of just one), and it allows for vertical adjustment to accomodate taller and shorter drivers. He also eliminated a somewhat questionable piece of anchoring hardware, which can't be a bad thing.

Changing the mounts will require stripping the car to the bare frame. Stripping the car will require room in the garage. Room in the garage will require moving about two tons of assorted things that don't really have a permanent home. Finding them a home will require clearing household items out of the storage garage that we rented while the basement was being redone. Moving those items will require a clean basement floor. Oh, wait...

Fall Sprints

2008-10-23T13:40:00.008-05:00

The last SCCA race of the year is usually a single Regional race spanning two days in October. This race is also usually worth double points, so the maximum number of points possible is 28 instead of 14. With a 30 point lead going in, I could have stayed home and watched Bob Hall take all 28 points and still won the championship. But where’s the fun in that? Several other people seemed to agree with that thought, so we had a good field of 5 CFFs and 23 cars in the group.

I had to get new tires for this race, but new race tires live longer if they are run through one heat cycle and then allowed to rest for 24 hours before being run again. That meant that I would also need a new set of old tires. Pete Wood came through with a set of tires that had a lot of tread, but they were so old that he playfully called them “rim protectors” rather than race tires. They were round, they were black, and they held air. That was all I needed.

Saturday morning was wet and chilly. Not as wet as Road America (did I mention it rained there?), but the track was damp in a few spots. The worst was corner 2. Normally flat-out, this corner becomes a brake-and-downshift corner in the rain, and it’s the last to dry out because of a thick canopy of trees overhead. I had a few tense moments there, but still managed to turn a 1:23 lap or two, and everybody made it though safely.

I put the new tires on for qualifying and tried my best to bring them up to temperature gently. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run a few hard laps behind Alan Murray. We turned a 1:19.9 before I passed him and got down to a 1:19.5, which was good enough for the second CFF grid position. Alan would be two cars behind me, with Gunnar Lindstrom (who hauled his Lola all the way from California! ) between us. The three of us had qualified within half a second of each other, and the entire Club Ford field was within 3.5 seconds.

I was very disappointed to hear that Alan had broken a stub axle during qualifying and wouldn’t make the race. The same thing happened in July, and he had to search to find the very last replacement stub axle in the country. That meant he didn’t have a spare when the other one broke, and nobody had another to send to him by air freight. I may not have been as disappointed as he was, but I think I was a close second. I was hoping to either enjoy a fun drafting session with him and Gunnar while Bob Hall drove away… or to work together with Alan and Gunnar to chase down and pass Bob. Alan said his goal for the weekend had been to turn a 1:18 lap, but that it was now up to me to do it for him.

Sunday was dry and sunny, but windy enough to be somewhat chilly. The morning races went quickly, and cleanup between sessions was done so efficiently that by lunchtime the races were running a full hour ahead of schedule. I had originally planned to sleep in on Sunday and just show up around 1pm, which would have been an hour early by the printed schedule… and would have been too late in reality. It’s great that things ran so smoothly, but they never made a single call to the grid for our race. Gunnar and William Cobb, the F500 gridded second overall, were both paddocked away from the rest of us, so they never saw us when we started pushing our cars to the grid around 12:30. Gunnar told me later that his first warning was when he heard our engines start at the 5 minute signal on grid. He rushed to get to the grid just in time to see us pulling away without him.

We all tried desperately to get some heat in our tires and engines during the pace lap. I was in the left row, with Bob Hall lined up directly in front of me and Allen Wheatcroft in front of him. Pete Wood was a row back from me. When the green flag dropped, my engine coughed as I stood on the gas, but I didn’t lose much ground. I started to catch up to Bob a little as we approached corner 1, but he was trying to pass Allen on the left edge of the track. Allen hadn’t left any room on that side though, so Bob ended up dropping his left rear wheel off the track surface just as he hit the brakes, snapping his car into a spin and sending it backwards across the track in front of me. I thanked myself for being too chicken to follow him any closer than I had (I had left at least a full car length between us), but then I saw a yellow blur come up from behind me. Cobb had decided to try to slice his way through the entire pack all at once and get back to second overall in just one move. He had a huge head of steam going when Bob’s car suddenly appeared in front of him. The yellow F500 bounced off of Bob’s black Crossle and started heading back toward me. I actually had to get back on the throttle to try to get out of the way. Two cars out, and we’re not even through the first turn.

Entering corner 6 on the same lap, Brad Ellingson tried to pass Dan Johnson’s Van Diemen FF on the right. Unfortunately, Dan was already trying to pass another car. There isn’t quite room there for three cars, especially when one is a car as wide as Brad’s Swift DB1 FF. Brad hit the curbing, which made his left front wheel hit Dan’s right front wheel. That impact catapulted Brad up into the air, vaulting over Dan’s car and landing on Rick Eskola’s F500. Three more cars out, and we still hadn’t completed a single lap. The pace car came out, and we crawled around for four laps under full course yellow while the safety crews tried to untangle all the cars. It took me a couple of laps to realize how few cars were in front of me. There was one F500, two FFs, and then me. I was suddenly 4th overall and leading CFF!

When the green flag came out again, I charged hard to try to keep the lead. After two laps, my crew showed me that I had a 3 second lead over Pete Wood in second place. A few laps later, I realized that I was still hot on the tail of John Luxon’s Piper FF. John has been to the Runoffs a few times, and I was determined to stay with him for as long as I could. I turned a 1:18.7 (there you go, Alan! ) before losing him in lapped traffic. I tried to chase him down again, but I reminded myself that I didn’t need to push so hard. I just needed to stay in front of Pete, who was now 26 seconds back, and Gunnar, who was trying to pass Pete for second place. Actually, I didn’t need to stay in front of anyone. I didn’t even need a finish. I just wanted to have fun and bring the car home in one piece. The championship had already been locked before the weekend even started. Still, I couldn't help being a little disappointed with myself for giving up 4th overall. I thought I was being lapped by the overall leader, but it turned out to be Darrel Greening, who was running 2nd in F500.

The TRO Manufacturing Central Division Regional Championship requires each participant to run a minimum of 4 races to be eligible for the championship. Although 14 drivers earned points in CFF this year, only four qualified for the championship. I ran all 9 events (the last counted double, so it is considered to be two events), Bob Hall ran 6, and Pete Wood and Alan Murray each ran 5.

At first I felt that I had won the championship by racing (and winning) the first three races that the runner-up did not attend. That gave me an “automatic” 42-point advantage. But take out those three events and that still leaves me with a 12-point lead and the championship.

Catching Up Part 2: All Tired Out

2008-10-22T14:14:00.004-05:00

Although my 2008 season has been all about SCCA, it was easy to talk me into running the Midwestern Council 50th anniversary race at Blackhawk on September 21. Unfortunately, I had committed to that event long before running the Double Regional at Road America the week before. I came down with a cold after spending the weekend outside in the cold and the rain (did I mention I was wet?), and I was seriously considering sleeping in when Sunday came around.

The title of the event was “All Tired Out,” so it was fitting that I had to drag myself out of bed at oh-dark-thirty and spend two hours trying to pick my way through a pea soup fog to get to the track. The fog lifted by the time I got to the track, but it was still cool and humid when we hit the track. I got out of the car after the practice session and realized that I was blowing a lot of fog around. I was breathing heavy, and the cool air turned my breath into quite a cloud every time I exhaled. I tried to calm my breathing a bit, but I was still engulfed in steam. Finally I realized that the steam was coming off my body! My slight fever combined with the exertion raised my body temperature, and the perspiration was all but sizzling off of me. Yes, I was hot.

I couldn’t hook up with anyone during qualifying. I was balked by sports racers nearly every lap, and it seemed that nobody was turning the same lap times that I was. I settled for a 1:22 and 3rd in CFF. Several DSRs had come to test for the Runoffs, so the field was large and fast. Third in CFF was 21st overall on the grid.

The race started off very badly. On lap 2, a Runoffs-bound DSR broke and stopped at the side of the track. On lap 3, an S2000 hit the wall, and an FC broke and stopped. On lap 7, another FC and another DSR both stopped. There were not enough wreckers available to get all of the broken cars to safety, so the officials had no choice but to stop the race until the track could be cleared.

When we lined up for the restart, I was directly behind Scott Reif, who was running 2nd in CFF. I thought I could get a jump on him at the start, and I was right. By the next lap, he was almost a straightaway behind me, balked by a sports racer. I did my best to deal with increasing understeer, but I could only manage a 1:21. Meanwhile Scott had passed the sports racer and was turning 1:19s in pursuit of me. He passed me with only a few laps to go, and I finished 3rd, just 5 seconds behind him.

After the race it became clear why the car had been understeering. The left front tire had just about shredded, losing a significant portion of its tread. But this wasn’t an entirely bad thing. While it was happening, I felt as though I learned (or re-learned) a lot about driving the car. I tried to compensate for the loss of traction by turning in to the corner a little earlier, so I could turn the wheel a little less abruptly. That not only made the car turn better, it also made the car handle much more neutrally than it had been doing. The back end was finally sliding as much as the front, which is what I had been struggling to make happen since 2006. I was probably as spent as that tire, but I felt so much better about everything that nothing really seemed to matter.

That would have been a terrifically high note to end the season, but there was still one more race to go.

Catching Up in 3 Parts

2008-10-21T15:42:00.004-05:00

Amazing thing, inertia. You can keep a thing going with so little effort, but take a brief break and it’s like pulling teeth to get going again. Once you’re rolling, you wonder why you stopped in the first place.

After the Firecracker in July, we had a two-month layoff before the Kettle Moraine Double Regional at Road America. It was an agonizing two months. The car was begging to be worked on, and I was itching to get back out. Of course, I didn’t touch the car at all for seven and a half weeks. Thursday night before the race, I finally got out to the garage to at least look at the car.

It rained Friday night, so I waited until Saturday morning to load the car. Of course, it was still raining in the morning, so the car and I got wet anyway. I got to the track bright and early (and wet) to find a line of cars waiting for Tech Inspection. Several people were milling about inside the Tech shelter, drinking coffee and not doing a whole lot of anything else. One car sat at the front of the line with nobody looking at it for nearly an hour. The next car in line was being inspected by two or three people for well over an hour. The owner of the CFF in front of me finally pointed out to the coffee drinking people that he and I were in group 2 and would miss our session if someone didn’t put down their coffee and help us soon. About ten minutes later, an inspector came over to look at his car. When he was done, he left. I then watched as two other inspectors began to check the Corvette in line behind me. When an inspector finally came back to me some fifteen minutes later, I informed him that I was now definitely going to miss my qualifying session because I had been waiting for so long while everyone stood around not inspecting my car. He finally handed me my tech sticker as my group was hitting the track. Thanks. That was a great way to start the weekend.

With my qualifying session wasted, all I could do was wait for the race and watch everything get wet. My clothes were all so completely soaked that I had to call my girlfriend to bring me something dry to wear. Fortunately, she did. And she didn’t even make me buy her breakfast.

The weather was a bit chilly, so I decided to wear my old three-layer driver’s suit rather than my newer, lighter-weight, breathable suit. That turned out to be a bad choice. When I got in the car, I couldn’t even buckle the lap belt! The old suit was so much bulkier than the new one that the belts were about an inch away from each other. So we each grabbed a belt and pulled… and as soon as my back popped, the belts snapped into place. Ouch.

As we lined up on the grid, a fog descended that was so thick the corner workers could not see from one corner to the next. We had to sit on the grid for several minutes (getting wet) until the fog lifted enough that the workers were confident that they would not lose any cars in the mist. I appreciated their caution, even though I got wetter because of the wait.

Because I had never raced in the rain at Road America, and I had no practice session in the morning, I had no idea what to expect. I started very conservatively and tried to gradually bring my lap times down from the 4-minute range to something approaching 3:30. I watched as my position marker counted down: 23… 19… 17… I hadn’t passed a single car, but people were having a tough time staying on the track. Finally I passed a pair of more modern Formula Fords. The newer cars are sprung so stiff that they can’t get much traction in the rain. The older Club Fords have much more compliant suspensions, so they can deal with reduced traction much more effectively. I finished 12th overall and 5th in CFF, mostly due to attrition and spins in front of me. All that mattered to me was that I had brought my car back in one piece, without ever leaving the track.

Sunday was more of the same, though thankfully without the Tech scene or the belt drama. I got a little more used to the RA rain line, which holds a couple of surprises. Corner 7, the Kink, and corner 13 (all flat out in the dry) require some braking in the rain. The entrance to the Carousel has a very slick patch, followed by a lot of traction. The tricky part is that there is no visual indication where one ends and the other begins. If you turn the wheel too early, the front wheels lose traction and slide straight ahead until they hit the grippy bit, which suddenly throws the front end of the car sideways. The rear tires are still on the slippery part, so they start sliding the other way, which is very exciting. The car goes from pure understeer to scary oversteer in a heartbeat. The exit of the Carousel is almost as bad, but the track goes from having almost as much traction as in the dry to a bit of a slippery patch. The transition is much more gradual, so you just start to become aware that the car is starting to slide. You can modulate the throttle to keep it from getting away from you, or you can plan for it and leave yourself a car width of track at the exit.

The race would have been called uneventful except that I picked up two positions on the last lap. Ian Lenhart was leading in CFF, with Garey Guzman in second place. Ian went off and got stuck in the gravel trap at corner 3, and Garey spun in the Carousel (apparently a victim of the slippery/grippy surprise). I finished 4th in CFF, which was good enough for a trophy.

TRO Manufacturing Central Division Championship Series points:

John Haydon - 70
R. Hall - 40
P. Kingham - 28
A. Murray - 25
D. Harmison - 24
S. Beeler - 20
P. Wood - 18
J. Tovo - 18
G. Guzman - 18
I. Lenhart 17
M. Green - 16
C. Smith - 11
C. Rehder - 7

With only 28 more points left to earn, that would seem to be a wrap for the season! But we can't let it end like that. Stay tuned.

Firecracker Double

2008-08-01T15:20:00.006-05:00

July 12-13 was a double Regional race at Blackhawk known as the "Firecracker". Saturday morning was very damp from soaking rains overnight (which created a fun little moat in my paddock space), but most of us went out on dry tires for the first session. I still don't know why any of us thought that was a good idea. None of us turned a respectable lap time in that session, and a few of us came perilously close to writing off our cars completely. Yes, my hand is raised.

The track was dry for the afternoon qualifying session, so all of us dropped our times dramatically. I qualified toward the back of the pack, but I'll need to check my excuse file to tell you why. Here we go: I was having an off weekend, the weather was hot, the sun was in my eyes, and the goldfish ate my homework. I certainly can't blame the car. It was begging to go faster.

During Saturday's race I tried to keep up with Pete Wood while he tried to pressure Bob Hall into making a mistake. Neither of us succeeded. Pete was in much better shape than I was, so it was all I could do to keep him in sight while the leaders drove off into the distance. For some reason, Pete slowed down towards the end of the race. That only made me drive faster (and beat my qualifying time by 2 seconds), but I still couldn't catch him until just after the finish line.

Pete had somewhere else to be on Sunday, so I had to find another rabbit to chase that day. Fortunately, Tom Stillwell fit the bill very well. I chased his white Swift for several laps, and he helped me to come within a half second of my fast time from Saturday. I had a lot of fun that session. I always think it's a lot more fun to chase a quick car than to just run laps alone, even if the car you’re chasing is too aerodynamic to give you much of a tow.

I got a fairly good start in the race, and on the second lap I was right on Bob Hall's gearbox through corner 5. Unfortunately, his off-track excursions during qualifying had damaged the fasteners on the nose cone of his car, and the nose actually came off as we exited corner 6. It was an amazing sight. The nose seemed to dance in the air, climbing and tumbling high enough and long enough that three of us drove under it before it came back down. The trouble was, I was completely mesmerized by it. By the time I finally peeled my eyes off of it, Bob had opened up a lead of at least five car lengths. I might have been able to stay with him (yes, that's a stretch, but humor me), but after that mistake there was no way for me to catch him. I had to settle for a 5th and a 4th for the weekend.

This was the first weekend that had more than two CFF competitors, and the standings for the TRO Manufacturing Central Division Regional Championship suddenly had a lot more depth than before.

John Haydon - 56
P. Kingham - 28
A. Murray - 25
D. Harmison - 24
R. Hall - 20
M. Green - 16
C. Smith - 11
P. Wood - 8

Road America Video

2008-07-22T14:19:00.003-05:00

Here is a quick (24 minute) video from the Road America race on May 31. For some reason, the camera cut out a couple of laps from the end... just as I was beginning to catch Bill Bonow.

I also have video from the double Regional race at Blackhawk on July 12 & 13, but that's another post.

Results, I've Had a Few

2008-06-02T13:35:00.007-05:00

The first race weekend at Blackhawk in April was a two-day drivers' school followed by a Regional race on Sunday. Only one other CFF showed, and he qualified two spots behind me. I think he got caught up in traffic on the start because I didn't see him for most of the race. But around the halfway point, just when I was starting to curse myself for never actually getting around to exercising like I had planned, I noticed a distant speck in my mirror. The speck was getting closer, gaining a little on me every lap. After a few more laps I could see that it was a red car like the other CFF. I tried to calculate how many laps he would need to overtake me, and if there was any way I could hold him off long enough. At the start of the last lap, it was clear that it would be a close finish. I tried to put the other car out of my mind so I could concentrate on driving as well as I possibly could. Finally, coming into the last corner, he was close enough that I could see the car more clearly. It was not the other CFF, but Jeff Primm, a student of mine driving an FF. I had been coaching him throughout the day, and he was doing a great job of putting my advice into practice! We drag-raced to the finish, and he got me by a quarter of a second. The other CFF finished about 16 seconds behind me. But once again, the big story was Bruce Lindstrand. He test-drove a customer's 1998 Van Diemen FF, starting at the back of the pack after the green flag, and worked his way up to second overall, winning FF and lapping everyone up to 4th place.

On Memorial Day weekend, we went to Grattan for a double Regional. This weekend was the first two rounds of the 2008 East-West FF/CFF Challenge, but turnout was surprisingly light. Four FFs and 7 CFFs entered. I blame the long drive for my 5th place (8th overall) finish on Saturday. This weekend also had a little twist. Usually the race grid is determined by the fastest lap time turned during qualifying, but this time the Sunday morning qualifying session was a 7-lap sprint race, and the finishing order would determine the grid for the race. I managed to get a great start, passing two CFFs and lining up behind Bruce Lindstrand in the LMI Tiga (the car had stickier tires than are allowed in CFF, so he ran in FF). Steve Beeler in a Lola and Joe Marcinski in another Tiga were right behind me for a couple of laps, but when I failed to capitalize on a (rare) misstep by Lindstrand, Beeler took advantage of my error and passed us both. Lindstrand passed him back before Marcinski passed both me and Beeler for third. I finished 5th again, but that sprint was so much fun I didn't care. I was also testing a new video camera that weekend, and fortunately the one session I managed to make it work was the qualifying sprint.

The race was a bit weird. Beeler shot up the middle at the start and ran away with the two leaders. I tried to keep up with Marcinski but I couldn't keep up the pace and finally let him go. When I realized I had nobody to chase or to defend against, I slowed a little bit and just waited for the last lap. Suddenly, the last corner on the last lap was showing a waving yellow flag. I lifted off the throttle slightly in case I had to stop or avoid a spinning car, but when I crested the hill I saw Beeler coasting, out of gas. I put my foot down and passed him for 4th. In impound, I learned that Dave Harmison's Royale had overheated and dropped out after 3 laps, which would have given me 3rd place. But the results sheet showed Beeler in 3rd and me in 4th. I couldn't understand it. I had passed Beeler well before the flag stand, so why did the results show that he had crossed the finish line a full second before I had? Cindy Lindstrand investigated and was reminded that at Grattan, the finish line is actually about 100 yards before the starter's stand. Beeler had crossed the line before me. I only beat him to the starter's stand.

One quick turnaround later, and it was time for a double Regional at Road America. We had a fair group, with 23 cars total, but again only 2 CFFs. Alan Murray was having a hard time getting back in the groove in his Crossle, and he started the weekend in bad shape: registration mishaps, a late start (he got to the track just as we were about to start the qualifying session), and a misfire above 4000 rpm -- and that was all before lunch on Saturday, so he would start the race at the back of the grid. Saturday's qualifying session was tough. The track was wet in some places and dry in others. You could come full-bore up the front straight, through 1 and 3, then full-bore down the back straight, but the braking zone for corner 5 was wet. Tiptoe through 5, and you could blast up the hill for 6, full throttle through 7, plenty of traction in 8 and through the carousel -- but the track was wet from the Kink through corner 12. That's a very fast section, so losing traction there was a scary prospect. I managed to turn a 2:47, which was fast enough to grid 10th overall.
I spent most of the race trying to chase down Bill Bonow in an FST and Dan Johnson in an FF as they traded 7th place back and forth for several laps. Suddenly Johnson slowed, and as I passed him I could hear that his engine didn't sound right. Neither did mine, though. It sounded like a diesel truck was tailgating me, which either meant horribly misadjusted valves or a blown exhaust header gasket. I concentrated on chasing down Bonow, whittling down the gap until he also slowed and let me pass, which gave me 7th overall. Sunday's qualifying started off poorly. Murray was ahead of me, but we were stuck in a pack of cars for a few laps. Once traffic cleared, I passed Murray on the front straight and he followed me as I passed a F500 coming into corner 1. He stuck with me through corner 3 and fell back a bit coming into 5. I didn't see him again through the carousel, but I just assumed I had lost him (the Tiga is amazingly stable and quick through the carousel). The next lap, corner 4 was waving yellow. As I crested the hill, I could see two wreckers at the side of the track near the braking zone for 5... pulling Murray's Crossle off the wall. Fortunately, it looked a lot worse than it was. The car had a bent tie rod and four flat-spotted tires, but no other damage, and Alan was unhurt. He told me later he had just jumped on the brakes a little too hard, locking the wheels. Before he had a chance to react, the car was backwards in the wall. I gridded 12th for the race and spent the first few laps playing with Carl Middelegge in an FST. He would draft me on the straights (using my horsepower for a tow) and I would let him pass before the corner, because I knew he could corner much faster than I could. We repeated that trick until he had a solid lead over Bonow in the other FST, when he let me go. I tried to chase down Dan Johnson again, but his car was running much better than it had on Saturday. I cruised to a 6th overall and another win. While Carl and I were playing and trying to chase down the faster cars, I managed to beat my qualifying time by almost 3 seconds (2:39.9), getting me to within 2 seconds of my best time ever. And that's only 7 seconds off the track record. I think I can make that up just in the braking zone for corner 5.

Next stop: Blackhawk, July 12 & 13 for the "Firecracker" double Regional (rounds 3 & 4 of the East-West Challenge series)

Rats

2008-03-10T15:04:00.003-05:00

After several months of wondering and waiting for schedules to be published, and after a few more weeks of planning and nail-biting and revising plans, I finally posted a tentative schedule, thinking that all of the events had been confirmed. Silly me. Two days after posting it, races were cancelled and race series changed. Next year I'll post my plans in November and see if the "last-minute" changes happen any sooner.

Now I'm down to just 10 races over 6 weekends:

April 27: SCCA Regional, Blackhawk Farms Raceway, South Beloit, IL (TRO Champ Series)
May 24-25: SCCA Double Regional, Grattan Raceway, Belding, MI (East-West Challenge Series)
May 31-June 1: SCCA Double Regional, Road America, Elkhart Lake, WI (TRO Champ Series)
July 12-13: SCCA Double Regional, Blackhawk Farms Raceway, So. Beloit, IL (EWC and TRO)
Sept 13-14: SCCA Double Regional, Road America, Elkhart Lake, WI (EWC and TRO)
Oct 18-19: SCCA Regional, Blackhawk Farms, So. Beloit, WI (TRO Champ Series)

I wish I could run more events at Road America or Grattan, but neither track has any more SCCA Regional or Midwestern Council events scheduled. I'm also very disappointed that neither series will be stopping at GingerMan or the Milwaukee Mile. There are a half-dozen racetracks within 100 miles of Chicago, yet each sanctioning body is only running two of them! What gives??

Hibernation

2008-02-22T16:38:00.002-06:00

Have I mentioned that I am not a fan of winter? I'm not. Especially winters where the snowfall total is more than I am tall, the windchills are below zero for days at a time, and even the plow trucks get stuck. Winter Wonderland? Sure, if by "wonder" you mean “I wonder if I’ll make it to work today… I wonder when I’ll feel my toes again… I wonder if I should buy a few more sets of long underwear... I wonder if I still have ears...”

Our one-year-old snowblower is going to need a major overhaul if summer ever comes, because it has seen some very hard use this winter. I think the racecar has seen less abuse in 30 years than the snowblower has seen in 3 months. I should be thankful that snowblowers don’t have logbooks. That would be an embarrassing read: “Crashed into ice-packed snowbank; repair auger hood damage before next snowfall… Stalled by choking on heavy snow; check engine case for cracks before next storm… Rolled, total damage to everything, tech sticker pulled…”

Last Sunday was a refreshing change. Instead of shoveling ice and snow, I spent the day shoveling ice and water. The mercury finally poked its head up over the 30 degree mark as a warm (storm) front came through town. For the first time in months, we got rain instead of snow. It was a terrific opportunity to get the two-inch layer of ice off the driveway, but underneath the ice was a lot of water. The rain and melting snow combined to make some epic puddles (which couldn’t get past the snowbanks on either side of the driveway into the soil which was frozen anyway), so I basically worked on corralling the water from the garage to the street, which was also flooded and iced over. I was thrilled with the rain, but I also wasn’t sad when it finally changed to snow in the afternoon.

Fortunately, the warm weather (well, relatively warm) gave me an opportunity to finally get the car up on stands, and just in time too. All that water in the garage has now frozen into a fascinating display of freeze expansion. Depending on your point of view, the garage floor looks either like a 3-D map of the glaciers during the ice age, or like a snapshot of the tide coming in. The ice actually sits up so high that it just touches one of the rear wheels, which is hanging 2 inches off the floor.

That’s enough talk about winter. I’m getting cold.

I mentioned before that this is the first time that I’ve had a running car in my garage during the off-season. I’m used to panicking with a three-page to-do list a couple of weeks before the first event, so this is an unusual situation for me to say the least. I do have a brief list of projects to keep me busy, like fixing some stripped threads on the gearbox and re-doing a hasty exhaust repair, but the car is essentially ready to run. So what do I do now?

My other big area of indecision is in planning the 2008 season. I have a list of events I really want to run, but they don’t really add up to a season. I’m looking at an SCCA Regional here and a Midwestern Council race there, but I’m not leaning towards a commitment to any one series right now. Each group has at least one event that I'm willing to miss the other group's race for, so I won't be running a full season with either group.

Another question mark on the horizon is my license renewal. Because of my abbreviated 2007 season, I ran enough races to renew an SCCA Regional license, but not enough to automatically renew my National license*. For an extra fee I can apply for a waiver to renew my National license, and for another extra fee I can also apply for a waiver to renew my Midwestern Council license. MC will let me run on an SCCA license, but I won’t be awarded any points (which won’t be a big deal if I’m not running the full MC schedule anyway, since I won’t be in the running for a championship).

Here are the not-quite-set-in-concrete, definite maybe events that I’m considering, possibly:

April 19-20 Driver’s School & Race, MC, Blackhawk Farms
April 27 SCCA Regional Race, Blackhawk Farms
May 24-25 SCCA Double Regional, Grattan (MI)
May 31-June 1 SCCA Double Regional, Road America
June 29 MC Race, Blackhawk Farms
July 12-13 SCCA Double Regional, Blackhawk Farms
July 19-20 Driver’s School & Race, MC, Blackhawk Farms
August 9-10 (a busy weekend) MC Race, Blackhawk
(or) SCCA National, Grattan
(or) SCCA Double Regional, Mid-Ohio
August 30-31 SCCA Double Regional, State Fair Park
Sept 13-14 SCCA Double Regional, Road America
Sept 21 MC Race, Blackhawk Farms
Oct 18-19 SCCA Regional, Blackhawk Farms
Oct 25-26 MC Race, Blackhawk Farms

Whoops, that’s 13. Not that I’m superstitious, but let’s put the June 8 MC Race at Autobahn Country Club on the list too.

My only complaint about that calendar is the same as in many other years: The events are clustered, with back-to-back events separated by long gaps. The back-to-back events at Blackhawk are not too tough because the setup doesn’t need to be changed, but going from Grattan to Road America to Autobahn can be tough. In addition to the major wallet strain, you have to schedule a gear change during the week. That isn’t a big deal for some people named Nicole Temple who can change gears in 15 minutes, but when it takes you an entire evening (hi, that’s me), the week gets pretty hectic. Unload the car Sunday night (if it’s not too late), clean the car and get the tools back together Monday night, nut & bolt Tuesday, change gears Wednesday, load the truck Thursday so you can take the car along Friday morning so you can leave from work Friday afternoon. That doesn’t leave much room for actually fixing problems.

But thinking about it again, the first back-to-back like that is the Memorial Day weekend at Grattan followed by a Road America event. RA is so close to home that I wouldn’t have to load the car until Friday night after work, or even Saturday morning (plus we have a holiday on Monday which will help). The trip back home from RA Sunday night will get us home early enough to get everything unloaded and cleaned up so we can start working on the car on Monday. And the next event (MC at Autobahn) is Sunday only, so I could drive down Saturday night or (ungodly early) Sunday morning, so that’s another half-day on my side at least. The other nasty back-to-back is the September Road America event followed by an MC Race at Blackhawk. The MC race is also a one-day (Sunday) event, which gives me Saturday to finish the car, after an early evening the Sunday before. So what am I worried about?

*To renew an SCCA Regional license, SCCA requires completing 2 Regional races. To renew an SCCA National license, SCCA requires 4 Regionals, or 2 Nationals and 1 Regional, or 3 Nationals. I ran 2 Regionals plus 2 MC events which are not officially recognized by SCCA for licensing purposes.

Catching Up

2007-11-13T10:46:00.002-06:00

It's all a blur.

Starting where we left off, Friday (October 26) during lunch I drove to NAPA to pick up the correct bearings. Then the fun began.

If you recall, we had to warm the upright and chill the bearings to loosen the interference fit between them. I put the bearings in the freezer and checked the LP tank on the gas grill at work. Everything was ready to go, but I didn't want to char the uprights or get burger grease on them. Fortunately, we tend to save things here. We had a company lunch a while back, with food from a local restaurant brought in inside pans of heavy aluminum foil. Knowing that the pans would come in handy somehow, we washed and saved the pans and the lids. One lid was the perfect size and shape to wrap the upright to protect it from smoke and hot spots. We fired up the grill and put the upright in to cook for an hour.

Bruce Lindstrand had told me that if I warmed the upright and chilled the bearings, the bearings would slip right in (insert slurping noise here). I confess I'm not used to things going that smoothly. When I hear, "They'll slip right in (slurping noise)," that translates to "You'll only have to fight with them for 15 minutes, not an hour or two." But this was a statement I could have taken at face value. I positioned the first bearing over its hole just to get it ready for the press, but the frost on the bearing made me lose my grip on it, and it fell out of my hand... and slipped right in (slurping noise). We were so thrilled that we flipped the upright over to get the other bearing in from the other side -- and the first bearing slipped right back out. A few minutes of Three Stooges re-enactment later, and both bearings were in. By the time the upright cooled to the point that the bearings would not fall out, it was after 5pm. I wrapped the assembly in racer's tape to ensure that the bearings would still be in the upright when I got home.

Reassembly was only a little more work than disassembly, but not by much. When everything was back together, I spun each axle and listened for any noise. The right axle had a little noise that seemed to be coming from the inner CV joint, so I took that joint apart to examine it. There was a little wear inside, and a couple of the balls had a little discoloration, so I decided to replace it. First I would need to grease the new joint. Which took a little longer than I anticipated, because I had to look for my grease gun (I'm still unpacking from the move). And the grease gun was empty. No problem, I have more grease in the basement. Twenty minutes later, the grease gun was loaded with fresh grease and so was I. Ten minutes later the new CV joint was installed and the car was on the ground. It was about 9pm at this point, so I was well ahead of schedule. I got the car on the trailer and went to bed.

I think I've mentioned before that I'm not a fan of being in the first group of the day. I'm not a morning person to begin with, and I don't like having to rush to be ready. But the truck was running well and the prior weekend's head wind had died down, so I was able to get to the track by 7am. The good people in Registration and Tech got me through in plenty of time to set up a work area. We got the canopy set up with the sidewalls on (50 degrees with a stiff wind is not nearly as pleasant as 50 degrees with no wind at all), unloaded the truck, and got some hot chocolate.

The first practice session was incident-free. Despite the cold, I turned a 1:21. The engine was very strong -- cold weather typically makes more horsepower than hot weather -- but the cold air seemed to be right at the limit of the carburetor jetting. There was a definite lag getting on the throttle, and the exhaust would pop frequently, but I had no competition, so I wasn't too worried.

We huddled around the car under the canopy during lunch. The warm tires, brakes, and engine were like a campfire in our tent. One quick nut-and-bolt check (and refueling) later, and we were ready for qualifying. The afternoon was slightly warmer than the morning, so the engine was running a bit better and the tires were gripping better. I qualified at a 1:19.6, which put be 8th overall in the group, but the official grid confirmed that I had no competition. I was the only car entered in CFF for this race. Of course I have mixed emotions about that. Every trophy and every win still means a lot to me, and running alone makes for a very relaxing race. On the other hand, it also makes for a boring race, both for me and for anyone I talked into coming to watch. It also means that the average number of entrants in the class is coming down. Still, I needed to run this race in order to keep my license current, so I wasn't about to go home.

We checked over the car before buttoning it up for the night. Everything looked good, but we struggled for a while with the zippers on the sidewalls. The car is just a little bit longer than the canopy is, and the sidewalls are only just barely long enough to go all the way around the canopy -- IF the legs are perfectly vertical. Which they weren't.

It was a bit like another Three Stooges episode. We'd close the zipper a little bit, then it would refuse to budge because the opening was too wide. Then we'd pull up the stakes holding a couple of legs down, move the legs in a bit, stake them back down, and try the zipper again. Better, closer, but still a bit too snug. Pull up the stakes, move the legs in, stake them back down, try the zipper. That one got us another 3/4 of an inch. (Before you yell, "Idiots! Why do you keep pounding the stakes back in before you try the zipper?" Please understand, it was windy. As soon as a stake came up, the canopy began dancing in the wind. We had to get the stakes back in the ground as quickly as we could or we'd lose the whole thing.)

We finally got the zippers almost all the way to the ground and called it good. Driving away, my father remarked that the canopy looked remarkably like a tomb. Yeah, let's not bring up death at a racetrack, okay?

Sunday morning was clear and nowhere near as windy, but we were greeted by a layer of frost on everything. Thankfully the sun was coming out when we got to the track, so it felt even warmer than Saturday. Unfortunately, that meant the frost on the canopy was melting quickly, and it was dripping on everything. We pushed the car out and left the canopy to dry in the sun.

I warmed up the car, changed into my driver's suit, and waited for the calls to grid. Normally, they will announce three calls to the grid over the PA system. When they give "third and final call," they will often warn that the grid will close soon (typically 5 minutes). Anyone who is not on the grid when the grid closes will lose his starting position and will have to start the race from the back of the grid.

The PA was eerily silent. Several of us were standing around, wondering out loud when the grid calls would start. Finally, about 5 minutes before the race was scheduled to start, they gave first call. I walked to the car and suddenly heard an oddly frantic voice over the PA shrieking, "Grid is at 5 minutes!! Grid is at 5 minutes!!" The grid had signalled that the race would begin in 5 minutes. I drove the 50 feet to the grid and was informed that I was late and would have to start at the back. Was this someone's idea of a joke? One grid call, and then we're suddenly late? What happened to second call, third call, and the warning that the grid was closed?

Actually, I wasn't that close to the back. Only four or five cars had made it to the grid "on time." The rest of us were being lined up as we came, and at least four cars were behind me. Suddenly I was very glad that I didn't have any competition. If I had been trying to beat someone, I'd have been furious. Or at least as upset as my dad was. I actually had to try to calm him down while I waited for the pace lap to start.

For the start of the pace lap, cars pull out from the grid and stop on the front straight as they wait for the rest of the field to line up behind them. Once the entire field is lined up on the front straight, the pace car pulls out to start the pace lap. I waited for the cars behind me (maybe it's more than four, this is taking a while) and saw the pace car pull away. The cars in front of me began to move, I went to pull away -- and stalled the car. I have never done that before -- have I? Maybe once before. Or twice. But not in the last 5 years, certainly. I think. I got the car started again and rejoined the field for what was perhaps the fastest pace lap of my life. Nobody had a chance to scrub tires or warm their brakes, but I'm sure we warmed up the track a bit.

The grid mix-up had put me behind several FVs and FSTs, which I decided to use for entertainment. I would gradually pull up behind a slower car and watch the driver's technique, looking for any little tricks that I haven't seen before. I learned a few new lines through some corners (not all of them successful), but after a corner or two behind each car I would begin to look for the safest and easiest place to pass. Some were easy to pass, either under acceleration or braking. Some drivers nearly pulled over and stopped to let me pass. When I finally reached the F500 which should have been gridded behind me, I realized that I was working very hard to pass him and even harder to keep him behind me. Since we were running in different classes, I let him re-pass me, choosing an easy finish over a potential mistake.

Two cars did make the kind of mistake I was trying to avoid. An F500 and an FST tangled in corner 6 on the first lap. The FST was one of the few cars who had made it to the grid on time, but his qualifying time was the slowest of the group. It appeared that the F500 (who had not made it to the grid on time) may have been trying too hard to pass the slower car, or at least may not have realized how much slower the other car was. Both cars were unable to continue.

I settled in behind the F500 and concentrated on running a conservative race. My fastest lap time in the race was a 1:20.4, which was likely when I was trying to chase down the F500. Most of my laps during the second half of the race were in the 1:22 to 1:23 range. But I finished the race and set a new record -- for the first time, I finished the last race of the season with a car that will not need any repairs over the winter.

While we were resting after the race, a photographer approached me and told me he had been looking for me for two years. He had taken pictures of my victory lap at this same event in 2005, but he hadn't seen me since.

He only needed to look on my couch; I was there pretty much the whole time.

Losing my Bearings

2007-10-26T11:33:00.000-05:00

I forgot the cardinal rule of auto racing: When everything looks like it's falling into place, you've missed something. Put another way, if anything can be described as "too easy", it is.

I purchased replacement bearings (four, in case we damaged any on installation). I took the upright off the car (it came off without any trouble). I packed everything in a box and arranged to take it all to LMI Thursday evening.

The first thing Bruce did was to take the stub axle out of the upright. As soon as he did, he could see that I had purchased the wrong bearings. Nothing about them was correct -- wrong size (by about 1mm on the OD), wrong type (double-row ball instead of single-row ball), and much too wide to fit the upright. He got the old bearings out without much trouble (he makes it look so easy), but there was nothing else we could do. The parts stores were closed, and none of the other cars in the LMI shop use the bearing I needed. I put all the loose parts back in the box and drove home.

The real shame is not that I wasted all that time driving to Darien. I felt worse that I asked Bruce to stay in the shop three hours after they closed so he could help me. But this morning I have an upright with no bearings, and no access to the proper way to install the new bearings once I get them.

The proper way to install bearings in a cast aluminum part is to start by warming the aluminum part to about 300-350 degrees. This makes the bearing bore slightly larger, making it easier to slip the bearing in. Ideally the bearings should also be chilled to shrink them slightly for even more clearance. Finally, a press should be at hand to squeeze the bearings into place. I have two out of those three here at work and at home. We have a press and a freezer at work, but no oven. We have an oven and a freezer at home, but no press. If the bearings arrive in time today, we may try to warm the upright on a gas grill. If not, I'll have to go shopping for a press on my way home tonight. And then I'll have to do a lot of explaining and apologizing for putting my car parts in the oven.

I'm giving myself until midnight tonight. If the car isn't on its wheels by then (or at least making significant progress), I don't think I'll make the race this weekend.

Getting My Bearings

2007-10-24T12:08:00.000-05:00

The good people at Lindstrand Motorsports have helped me identify the mysterious noises I thought I was hearing. The noises were real, and they were the result of worn wheel bearings. The left rear wheel can be moved about 1/8" up and down, although it is still tight side to side.

The left rear wheel on a formula car is typically the most heavily loaded wheel in road racing. Road racing courses are generally run clockwise, which emphasizes right hand turns. Turning right transfers weight to the outside wheels (the left side), and the rear of the car is heavier than the front, both because of static weight distribution and because weight transfers to the rear wheels under acceleration. I won't speculate on what percentage of the car's weight is carried by the left rear wheel in a right hand turn, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was more than half. This is the same force that ate up the VW wheel hubs I used a couple of years ago.

What appears to have happened is the outer race of the bearing has become egg-shaped (pointy end up) from the extra weight it has been carrying. It hasn't just generally worn out, which would cause the wheel to be loose in every direction. If you put one hand on the tire at 3 o'clock and your other hand at 9 o'clock and push and pull, you won't feel any play. But put your hands at 6 o'clock and 12 o'clock and you can move the wheel up and down with an audible clunk.

The plan for the next few days is to take the upright off tonight so that I can deliver it (and two new bearings) to LMI tomorrow, as Bruce has offered to stay in the shop after hours to help press the old bearings out and install the new ones. Depending on the hour when I get home Thursday night, I may try to get the car back together that night so I can load up Friday night and head to the track Saturday morning. I don't know if I'll make it in time for the first practice session in the morning, but I should be ready for qualifying in the afternoon.

That Loooong Race '07

2007-10-23T14:02:00.000-05:00

"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.

Wisconsin Grand Prix

2007-10-02T10:33:00.000-05:00

There are epic tales of legendary races. There are very short stories about not-so-interesting races. And there are a few stories of races that never were.

The SCCA had planned to host a race on the infield road course of the State Fair Park racetrack (the "Milwaukee Mile" -- I don't call it that because the road course is two miles, not one). Everything was arranged, and the cable company was even going to send out a film crew to cover the event for the local sports channel.

I got to the track just after 6pm, when registration was scheduled to open. The paddock was already a little crowded, but I parked and went to stand in the registration line. On the way I passed a few people who were on the board of directors for the SCCA region, and they didn't look happy. The phrases "looking pretty grim" and "may not happen this weekend" were overheard. Someone else filled me in: The race may be cancelled because the track was not ready. It would take a lot of work to make the track safe for a race, and nobody knew yet if the project could be completed in time. They would try, and we would wait.

A handwritten sign on the registration tent didn't inspire confidence either: "Registration closed until futher notice." I decided to take a spot in line and wait for the final word.

The State Fair grounds were hosting several other activities that same weekend, including a very large cattle show. (That's a very large show for cattle, not a show for very large cattle. Though some of the cattle there were indeed very large.) They had decided that the best place to park all the cattle trailers was just outside the track -- circling the registration tent. The smell wasn't too bad, but apparently it soaked into my clothes pretty thoroughly during the two hours I waited in line.

More details came filtering in bit by bit. Barricades were not in place for the road course because an Indy car team had been testing on the oval all day long. Stacks of tires, which had been supplied by and assembled by members of various sports car clubs, were now missing. The pavement of the infield course was much higher than the surrounding shoulder, resulting in a severe drop-off. The track had been instructed to fill in the shoulder to make it safer if a car spun off the track. Instead, they dumped a lot of rocky fill dirt on the edge of the track, building up a berm in some spots and leaving large (6" diameter) boulders sticking out in other spots. The track didn't have the equipment required to grade the dirt and make the slope of the shoulder more gentle. They were now trying frantically to scrape it down and redistribute the dirt with small Bobcat loaders, working by the light of the safety trucks' headlights.

Around 8:15, the club made the official announcement: It had become clear that there was no way the track could be made safe for a race before Saturday morning, so the event had to be cancelled.

I was disappointed and a little frustrated over the work we had done to get the car ready in time, but then I realized how many people -- drivers and crew and volunteer workers -- had taken the day off to drive in from all over the midwest, only to find there was no race. I have to be thankful that this race was (or would have been) in my own backyard.

Someday I should have my dad tell you the story about the time we pulled up to Grattan Raceway in Michigan back in the '70s and were met by the track owner, drunk and at the wheel of a bulldozer, blocking the entrance.

Back In It

2007-09-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

Since the car was already set up for Road America, I decided to run the Midwestern Council races there last weekend. I wouldn’t be able to earn points because I would be running on an SCCA license, but I figured the seat time would be worth it.

I wanted to drop the car off at the track on Friday night, but the forecast suddenly called for strong storms overnight with high winds and hail. I didn’t want to leave the car outside in weather like that, so I left the car in the garage for the night and drove up to register. The weather cooperated and rained on and off while I was there, with a few lightning strikes thrown in for good measure.

The trip to the track was much less interesting than last time (thankfully) and I found a spot on the paved area of the south paddock, very close to where I had parked last month. The only drawback was a stiff breeze which continued until the early afternoon, but spending a few minutes in the sun was enough to get rid of the chill.

The schedule was similar to last month (one morning qualifying session and one afternoon race each day), but my group was later in the day, which made the pace much more relaxing. Because the races are longer than the qualifying sessions, the later groups get more time to prepare for their races. That has always seemed to me to be much more important than being able to leave the track earlier in the day.

My goal for qualifying was to find Pete Wood (or another fast driver) and spend the session following him. That has worked very well for me at Road America, and I’m not exactly sure why. It could be because the draft is so important because of the high speeds on the long straights. It could be that I don’t run the track often enough to have good reference points for braking and turning. Or it could just be that I get a little bored on the long straights and lose concentration, which of course leads to mistakes.

I managed to find Pete a few laps into the session, and as soon as I began following him, my lap times (and his) started falling. Pete eventually got the pole with a 2:44.6, and I qualified right behind him with a 2:44.8. The session felt great, and the day was off to a good start.

The race, on the other hand, didn’t start so well for me. Somehow I lost five positions (two of them in my class) before corner 5. I was now behind Scott Reif in a 1976 Tiga with Scott Durbin in a 1975 Tiga challenging Pete for the lead. I decided to settle in and draft Scott Reif for at least a lap or two, figuring that our cooperation would get us closer to the two lead cars, who I expected to slow each other down a bit in their battle for the lead.

I passed Scott in the Carousel on lap 3 and worked on chasing down Pete and Scott Durbin. I managed to turn a 2:39.5 before I spotted them in the distance. Unfortunately, I got stuck behind another car and couldn’t quite catch them before the checkered flag came out. We finished within 4.2 seconds, and according to the lap times, if I hadn’t been held up by the other car (and IF I could have kept turning 2:39 laps), I could have caught the leaders (or at least I could have been right on their tails). I was happy to settle for third place out of 8 Club Fords.

Sunday went much better for me, not so much better for the other Club Ford drivers. I couldn’t hook up with anyone for qualifying, but I still got the pole with a 2:39.4. Pete had pulled in after three laps with his transmission popping out of gear, and Scott Durbin pulled in one lap early. I had out-qualified Scott by 2 seconds, but we later found out that his gearbox had cracked, so his weekend was over.

I couldn’t relax just yet. I suggested that Pete’s gearbox problem sounded a lot like the problem that I had experienced in October of 2005, when my transmission had run itself dry. The heat generated by the dry gears and bearings made the shift detent springs relax, which left nothing holding the car in gear. He checked and found out that he was indeed very low on oil. He refilled the gearbox and test-drove it around the paddock to make sure everything still operated freely. He would be starting 11 spots behind me (make that 10, since Durbin was out).

And speaking of gearbox issues… during the first few corners of the pace lap for Saturday’s race and the first few corners of Sunday’s qualifying session, I had missed third gear on a few downshifts and once on an upshift. It seemed to be better when the gearbox warmed up, but I couldn’t explain what was going on. I don’t like when I can’t explain why the car is doing something. Fortunately, I checked the valve lash during lunch on Sunday. Stick with me here, because it will make sense in a minute. To adjust the valve lash, I put the car in gear and push the car to turn the engine over very slowly, one valve at a time. The last step in the process is to put the car back in neutral. When I did that, I noticed the shift lever felt and looked very loose. Closer inspection revealed that one central bolt which holds the entire shift linkage in place had indeed loosened. That allowed just the right amount and type of slop into the linkage that it wouldn’t go into third gear unless I really slammed it home (which, apparently, I do when I’m driving hard). Simply tightening the bolt cured the problem. One more issue off my mind.

Sure enough, Pete passed me on the second lap of the race. I had gotten stuck behind a high-horsepower but ill-handling sports racer, and Pete took full advantage of it. I managed to pass the sports racer on the next lap and caught up to Pete. I decided to stay behind him for a while, since cooperating with him early would get us away from the sports racer and allow us to concentrate on racing each other later. I drafted him for several laps before finally deciding that it was time to make a move.

I tried passing Pete in the Carousel, but the track had become dirty enough that I didn’t have enough traction to pull it off. I tried drafting him between corners 3 and 5, but I didn’t time the move quite right and all I could do was draw even. I didn’t think I could outbrake him into corner 5, so I pulled back in behind him and tried to look for another option.

That same lap, I bobbled a little bit entering corner 14, which could have cost me a lot of time since that corner leads onto a very long front straight. But somehow I managed to salvage the corner and come away with good exit speed. Good enough to draft past Pete into corner 1. Well, almost. I timed the passing maneuver correctly so that the draft helped to “slingshot” me past him, but I could only get about halfway past. His front wheels were still ahead of my rear wheels, and I couldn’t pull away. But I knew that I could brake later and carry more speed through corner 1, so I held my position and waited for what seemed like hours. Finally I spotted his brake marker and heard him get off the throttle. I waited a half a beat later than I normally would have before hitting my brakes, just to avoid tangling or crowding him. I was off the proper line, so I should have slowed down even more than I normally would have, but I dropped one gear (I could hear Pete downshifting twice), got off the brakes, and made it through the corner at full throttle.

Pete wasn’t about to let me go without a fight. He was on my tail entering corner 3, but I managed to carry a bit more speed through that corner as well. He was a few car lengths behind me along the straight leading to corner 5, but I still expected him to try to pass me under braking. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep him behind me if he tried it. I braked as late as I thought I possibly could, and he didn’t try to pass me. I finally felt like I could breathe again.

He was still on my tail on the hill from 5 to 6, but I gained a little ground coming through corner 7. He was back on my tail entering corner 8 though, but I knew I could get a better lead through the Carousel. The Tiga hooks up so well through that long sweeper that it’s actually hard to follow other cars through there. In fact, I think I passed more cars that weekend by driving around them in the Carousel than on any other corner.

When I set up for the Kink, I checked my mirrors and saw just a small purple spot behind me. I concentrated on building up a lead for a few laps before I couldn’t see Pete any more. Once my mirrors were clear, I relaxed a bit. As I exited corner 5 the next lap I realized what a mistake I had made. I could see the purple nose of Pete’s Crossle just a few car lengths behind me! But it was already the last lap of the race, and corner 7 and the Carousel were in front of us. I told myself I just had to do the rest of the lap correctly and I’d be home free. No banzai craziness or super speed. Just be smooth, don’t over-brake, and drive the correct line. I think I repeated that mantra about two dozen times over the next nine corners. But it got me to the finish line 0.945 second ahead of Pete.

I can’t count all the bruises and sore muscles from the unfamiliar exertion. Honestly I can’t tell where a bruise ends and a sore muscle begins. But even the aches and pains feel awfully good right now.

Kettle Moraine Regional 2007

2007-08-28T14:25:00.000-05:00

The day got off to a bad start. We were already running late when I realized, about 20 minutes down the road, that I didn’t have my helmet bag in the truck. I had put everything else in the kitchen near the back door, but that bag (with all of my driver’s gear and the car log book) was still sitting in the living room where I had left it after packing it the night before. We turned around and got it (along with the thermos of coffee we had also forgotten, and my electric razor, and a bag which I hoped had my SCCA ID in it) and sped off again, now about an hour behind schedule.

We then discovered that the bag did not have my ID in it. This didn’t help matters, because it meant I would have to take more time (and $8) at registration getting a new photo ID. We finally pulled into Road America at 7:15, 45 minutes later than I had planned (but only 15 minutes later than I had expected when we first left, and 15 minutes earlier than we had feared after leaving the second time).

The first miracle happened at registration. I ran to the registration building, but the registrar had seen me coming and had my file ready before I got to the window. I explained that I couldn’t find my ID, but he said I’d be fine just wearing the event wristband. I was registered and on my way into the track before I knew what had happened. Bless you, bless you. You saved my day.

The next challenge was to find Tech. The entry form said that Tech would be “at the pad,” which I took to mean the concrete alignment pad next to the gas pumps. There was nobody there. I circled around to the Lindstrand Motorsports trailer and asked Nicole where Tech was. She told me they were at the scale pad, which I knew as Impound. Of course! That’s where Tech belongs anyway. I drove off in search of a parking spot.

The East-West Challenge drivers had a reserved paddock area which was about 100 yards or so from Tech. But when I spotted the Tech tent, I realized there were several empty paddock spaces in the paved area right next to it! I pulled into one of those spots, rolled the car off the trailer and into their tent, and spent a relaxing few minutes with a crew of very friendly and helpful tech inspectors.

We rolled the car back to our paddock space and unpacked the truck. I tried to start the car and found that the jumper pack (which I had charged for three days) was nearly dead. I tried the on-board battery and finally got the car started. I shut the engine down after a minute of warming up… and noticed the puddle of oil. Panic! The oil pressure gauge line was loose. One frantic search for the correct size wrench later, and the leak was cured.

I had just enough time to put air in the tires and to put on my (still a little too snug) driver’s suit before qualifying. I squeezed into the car and noticed that the shifter moved very freely, maybe even too freely. It felt like the jam nut (which holds the front half tight to the rear half) had come loose, and only the front half was rotating. Panic again! After Amy verified that the rear half was actually moving, I realized that the new Lindstrand shifter was simply no longer binding and rubbing against everything like the old one had. It was actually working properly, which I wasn’t used to.

I pushed the clutch in to select first gear. The clutch pedal seemed very stiff, but I wrote it off as an atrophied clutch muscle in my leg. I tried again and the pedal went down – and stayed there. Panic again! I frantically stomped on the pedal to try to wake it up, and it popped up after a second or two. That was the only trouble the pedal gave me all day, and I still don’t know what happened. I have to guess that the seals in the release bearing had dried out from sitting, and a few strokes of the pedal lubricated them enough to operate freely.

Qualifying would have been uneventful if I hadn’t spoiled a few laps for a group of FVs. I was locking up the front tires while they were trying to carry momentum through the corners. Then I would try to outrun them by powering down the straights, but I couldn’t get far enough ahead that I wouldn’t spoil their next corner. I finally let them go (or did I finally get in front of them?) and ran a couple of laps alone. My best time was 2:47.4, well off my best time but still good enough for 5th of 6. Not too bad after a two-year absence from that track.

We were about to head to breakfast when a woman stopped me to ask some questions about what I used to race, with whom, and when. It finally dawned on us that she was looking for my father. Her husband, John Daugherty, used to race Formula Vees with my father, and had been trying to track him down for a few years. Their son Michael is now racing Spec Racers, and we had a good time comparing notes and reminiscing.

The nut & bolt check did not turn up any surprises. I changed the break-in oil to synthetic and refueled the car before grabbing a quick bite to eat and changing back into my driver’s suit. Race time came sooner than I had expected. I was once again in a rush to get ready and get to the grid, but I got there in plenty of time.

The pace lap was a sight for sore eyes. I didn’t realize how much I missed being in a string of formula cars darting from side to side, warming up tires. The qualifying order was Crossle, Crossle, Tiga, Tiga, Tiga (me), Tiga! The pace car slowed us to a crawl up the front straight hill (3000RPM in first gear), but we got a green flag and a clean start.

A newer Formula Ford which had started at the back pulled out to pass me going into corner 1, and I gave him the corner. I was still unsure of my brake bias, and the pass wasn’t for position, so I had no interest in challenging. I tried to settle in and stay on the tail of Marty Handberg’s red Tiga. The next lap, he pulled out to pass Joe Marcinski’s silver Tiga, and I stayed with him. That took me to 4th place, but I couldn’t challenge for third. I kept up with the pack and cut 6 seconds off my qualifying time. It felt great to be one of a half-dozen Formula Fords running nose-to-tail for so long.

I was only able to keep up for a few more laps before I realized how sloppy my driving was becoming. I was mentally exhausted, physically spent, and still using too much energy worrying about the car. I backed off a bit, but it didn’t take much before the pack was out of sight. The next few laps were mostly uneventful as I tried (with increasing difficulty and decreasing success) to put a good lap together. I finally finished sixth, but the car was still in one piece, and I had a finish.

I realized last night that the tires I was using were the same tires that were pretty much used up at the end of 2005. Suddenly I feel a lot better about not being able to keep up with the pack.

When All of a Sudden...

2007-08-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

Sorry to spring this on everyone after such a lengthy delay, but there has actually been some progress on the car!

The engine was actively being built (yes, by me) starting around June-ish. The big delay was due to doubts about the oil pump and how to solve a major clearance issue between the pump and the gearshift linkage. Short story long, the most common Formula Ford oil pump basically would not allow the use of the Tiga shift linkage. The second- and third-most common oil pumps also wouldn't fit the chassis because of clearance issues, but these issues were much more serious (think motor mount and oil tank clearance). With a bunch of help from (who else) Bruce at Lindstrand Motorsports, the shifter has now been modified to clear the most common oil pump. A new oil pump has been fitted, the engine has been assembled and installed in the car, and we tried to start it this weekend.

And we tried. And we tried. And we tried.

First, the easy part. I have now built literally more engines than I can remember. I am always very careful to install the distributor with the rotor pointing at the #1 post with the #1 cylinder at Top Dead Center. But I have never once managed to line it up at TDC on the compression stroke. I always manage to end up with it lined up at TDC on the exhaust stroke. This time was no exception. Fortunately, I will never forget what Pete Wood told me when we put the car together in preparation for him selling me the car: "My mama told me that when it 'pops' through the carburetor, you're 180 degrees off." And that's exactly what it did -- after a while. After the starter battery had worn down to the point that it was cranking the engine noticeably slower than it had that morning.

Off came the plug wires. I swapped 1 for 4 and 2 for 3, but several more minutes of cranking and cranking and cranking yielded nothing at all. Not even a pop. Checked the timing again. Gave it a little more gas. Cranked some more. More gas. Suddenly the car made a loud clunk that I've never heard before -- and I've heard this car make a LOT of noises -- and then the starter refused to do anything.

The drive on the old Lucas starters is an interesting, if convoluted layout. The starter motor is in front of the flywheel, but the drive gear is behind the flywheel. When the starter motor spins, the rotation forces the drive gear towards the flywheel by means of a screw thread on the driveshaft which engages a similar thread inside the drive gear. The rotation of the starter motor basically "screws" the drive gear into engagement with the flywheel. When the flywheel starts turning faster than the starter (when the engine fires), it spins the gear faster than the starter is turning, "screwing" the gear back to the end of the shaft. Sometimes when the engine doesn't start, the drive gear remains engaged to the flywheel, because the flywheel hasn't kicked it back out. You can turn the driveshaft backwards by hand to release the drive gear in this case. But once in a great while, the gear jams itself so tight that nothing will turn. And yes, we were now witnessing once in a great while.

Even the flywheel wouldn't budge. A prybar in the ring gear teeth couldn't turn the flywheel. Jamming the car in gear and bumping it back and forth only made us tired. Fortunately, Lucas extended the shaft out the other end of the starter motor and put a 3/8" square drive on the end for just such an occasion. It took the longest 3/8" wrench I had and all the strength I could muster to get the shaft to turn. When it finally disengaged the gear, you could almost hear the car heave a sigh of relief. Of course, the wrench was now stuck on the square drive, and it took several minutes of creative prying, chiseling, and hammering to get it off again. Back to cranking.

More gas. More cranking. More cranking. More cranking. Occasionally there would be a slight poof of one cylinder firing weakly, and a plume of acrid smoke would gently waft into my face. After I noticed the garage getting rather cloudy I pulled out my industrial-strength fan to get some fresh air. A few more cranks and I realized the starter needed cooling air more than I needed to breathe, so I aimed the fan square at the starter and went back to cranking again. At this point the starter battery had been run pretty much flat. Time for a Plan B. How about jumper cables hooked up to the truck?

Problem A with Plan B: You can't clamp a big jumper cable clamp onto the little battery quick-connector we use for hooking up the starter battery. So we made a "jumper jumper" by installing another quick-connector to a pair of cables, stripping the other end of the cables, and clamping the jumper cables to the jumper jumper. Only that made the starter turn even more slowly than it had with the dead stater battery. These were brand-new jumper cables from Wal-Mart, which must mean -- they're crap.

Plan B.2: Dad had jumper cables in his truck. Problem A with Plan B.2: They were so buried it took a while to get them out. No biggie. I wasn't going anywhere for a while. Several minutes later (it felt like an hour -- that man can pack 300 pounds of emergency supplies and tools into his glovebox) we came face to face with Problem B with Plan B.2: The cables were warm to the touch after the first attempt at cranking the engine. Reason 1 for Problem B with Plan B.2: These jumper cables were older than both of us put together. What were they using jumper cables for before they had cars?

Plan B.3: Skip the jumper jumper, pull the positive contact out of the quick-connector on the car and use some kind of adapter to clamp the one good set of cables (which have huge clamps) onto the microscopic contact. A small pair of needle-nose vise-grip pliers did the trick, but the weight pulled the positive cable dangerously close to the frame of the racecar, inviting a short. What did we have handy that we could use to prop up the cable? We had a half-full water jug left from filling the coolant, so we stuck the end of the pliers in the neck of the jug. Lovely. Electricity plus water. Hydrogen fuel cell, anyone?

Fortunately, the water jug did not actually qualify as Problem A with Plan B.3. Problem A with Plan B.3 was that the starter at this point was drawing so much amperage that the truck couldn't keep up at idle. So the new procedure was: Squirt gas into carburetor, Rev truck to 3000 RPM, Push starter button. Good thing we had two people. Bad thing we still had no noise from the engine. Could the race gas be so old that it won't even burn?

I took the air cleaner off with the intention of spraying some starter fluid in the carb. Fortunately I looked down into the throttle bore first and saw myself looking back at me. I had flooded it so badly that the gasoline was pooling on the bottom of the intake manifold.

New procedure: Hold the throttle wide open to get some fresh air in the engine while cranking the engine and revving the truck. Wait, we need a third person for that. I tried holding the throttle open and blowing in one carb throat, hoping the gas would evaporate and the fumes would blow out the other throat. Half an hour later, the reflecting pool was gone. We cranked the car with the throttle jammed open and it gave a promising pop, so we went back to just cranking.

The starter was now very warm, even with the industrial blower on it, and it cranked so slowly it sounded like it was just ratcheting the engine over. Dad promised to be home a half an hour ago. Still, we were just SO CLOSE. It had to fire soon.

Half an hour of agonizing cranking later (sorry Mom) we gave up for the night. Actually, I just sent my dad home for the night. I tried a few more times after he went home, with similar results. We concluded that the starter must have worn out from the strain.

I tried it this morning just for fun and it started on the second try.

I can't wait for Road America on Sunday.

Again, With the "Nothing to Report!"

2007-01-22T16:56:00.000-06:00

December 1? Has it really been that long since the last update? Profuse apologies for keeping you waiting so long.

We've been working on our 2007 catalog, trying to cram in more new products and more information without adding too many more pages. I enjoy working on the catalog, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of seeing the finished product. I like being part of the production team, and I do feel like my contributions are improving the catalog. But there are some drawbacks.

Maybe it's because I enjoy the work so much, but for at least one solid week this month I kept working on it every night in my dreams. This week my nightmares have been all about mysteriously shrinking pages and words that keep multiplying and moving around, refusing to fit in neatly laid out text boxes.

And then there are the cool new products. We carry so much cool stuff! This is what gets me in trouble. When we bring on a new product, I have to get familiar with it, familiar enough that I can write a description that explains exactly what it does, why it does what it does better than anything else, and why you need it. And then I realize: I need it too. It won't fit my car, and I know this because I wrote the description that says very clearly "fits Van Diemen F2000, 1990 and up with 5.5" Tilton twin-disc clutch" and I've had my car apart enough to know that it's not a Van Diemen, not an F2000, older than 1990, and doesn't have a 5.5" twin-disc clutch... but it's just such a well-made, good-looking part, and if you have a Van Diemen F2000, 1990 and up, with a 5.5" twin-disc Tilton clutch, and you don't have one of these, boy oh boy are you missing out, and maybe you don't deserve to have one, maybe it should go to a good home, someone who really knows it and appreciates how it can solve so many problems... Good thing I don't work for the Humane Society.

A few of the new products that I have to force myself to leave here when I go home:

Gold heat barrier film. This is the new stuff that F1 teams use inside the engine covers. When you watch a race on TV, and a car pulls into the pits, and the crew pulls the engine cover off to see what's wrong, and all you see is gold -- that's what this is. It blocks the engine heat from overheating the bodywork and cooking off that expensive paint job. And it looks pretty zooty doing it. A few of those cars would probably look better if they put that paint job under the engine cover and covered the bodywork with the gold film instead.

Tripod Joints. This is a type of CV joint that has been used by Van Diemen since 1990. My car doesn't use that style, but they're so light and well-made, they just look fast.

Hydraulic Release Bearings for Van Diemen. A very reliable brand of clutch release bearings modified to replace the troublesome unit in the Van Diemen. My car isn't a Van Diemen, and I have an HRB, but these are just such a great thing that I can't understand why a Van Diemen owner wouldn't want one.

Lady Eagle safetywear. No, I'm not a woman, nor am I built like one. But it's about time that someone made driver's gear designed for women. I want to buy a set for all the lady drivers I know.

KOUL Tools. If you look in the encyclopedia under "better mousetrap" it will have a picture of the KOUL Tools. Installing hose ends onto braided stainless hose means pushing a collar onto the hose by hand -- a process which loosens and frays the wire braid while causing blisters and cuts and puncture wounds. These tools act like a funnel to squeeze the braid into the collar, even if the braid has frayed. I wish I assembled more of these hoses so I would have an excuse to buy these. I may give them as Christmas gifts next year.

E-Track. A moveable anchor system for tying down cargo (like a car in a trailer). Snap-in fittings snap into the track, which has sockets every couple of inches. You're not tied down (har har) to just one anchor point. If you sell the Miata and buy a Corvette, no problem! Just snap the anchors out of the track and snap them back in where you need them. If you need the race trailer for work during the week, no problem! Your friend needs help moving? Oh gosh, I'd like to help you out, but I'm out of town that weekend... My trailer is already tailored just exactly to what my car needs, but E-Track almost makes me wish it wasn't. I'm tempted to install some in the bed of the pickup truck.

AiM dash systems. Talk about a do-it-all digital dash system! These dashes are so flexible and capable of so many functions, it's amazing they don't cost more. I've heard that they will be introducing a formula car steering wheel with everything built in (dash, shift lights, and all switches) this spring. If they can keep the price reasonable -- and based on past history, I'd say that's likely -- these could be very popular. I have all new gauges in my car, and they're period-correct, but this thing is so uber-cool that I'm hoping it will either be dirt cheap or WAY out of my price range.

I'm off to find some oil pressure. I'll send a postcard.

Enough Already

2006-12-01T15:25:00.000-06:00

This has nothing to do with racing, but it's been keeping me from sleeping at night.

Ridiculous Phrases That We Don't Ever Need to Hear Again

Seriously, people. Let's learn some new catchphrases and dump these which were worn out before their time.

You know
(Spoken by celebs in interviews) I once saw a snippet of an interview with a pop music star. His answer to a question about his music, in its entirety, was (approximately) "Well, you know, it's, like, you know, uh... you know, yeah." Well, now we know that you don't write your own lyrics. "You know" is code for "I have no idea how to articulate what I'm thinking." Not exactly what you expect from someone who gets paid millions of dollars to express himself.

At the end of the day
This strikes me as a grown-up version of "you know". It's the modern abbreviation of "when all is said and done." It sounded intelligent the first few times I heard it, probably because it seemed to have originated in Britain. Now NFL and NASCAR announcers are saying it. "You know, at the end of the day, you know..." At the end of the day, you go to bed. I guess I should be thankful the Americans didn't get there first with "You know, when the fat lady sings, you know..."

Black Friday
Help me understand the logic here. Black Monday refers to the 1987 stock market drop. Bad thing. Black Tuesday refers to the last day of the big one in 1929. Worse thing. Black Wendesday refers to the day the British Pound lost so much value due to currency speculation that the British government was forced to withdraw it from the European Exchange. Bad thing. Black Thursday started the 1929 market crash (followed by the original Black Monday and Black Tuesday). Big bad thing. So how did "Black" become applied to the (supposedly) biggest retail shopping day of the year? And by the way, it's NOT. It's overhyped nonsense, and now it has a poorly-chosen name. And if you're one of the 5am "doorbuster" crowd, then you need to go home and take a nap. Let's call it "Nap Friday" instead.

Put your "John Henry" by the X...
Has someone asked you to sign a document by asking you to "put your John Henry" on it? I hope you reached for a hammer. Because John Henry had a hammer. He was a steel-drivin' man. John Hancock signed the Declaration of Independence with a famously large signature (the only signature on the document that can be read across the room). On the other hand, if someone does ask you for your John Hancock, feel free to sign the entire sheet like Johnny would have done.

There are plenty of good old cliches to choose from. Who decided that we needed new ones?

No! Time to Lose!

2006-11-28T16:46:00.000-06:00

At the risk of losing my own regular readers to more interesting websites, I would like to share some of the websites that have distracted me from working on the car lately.

Make:
This is a blog for the new-ish magazine Make: technology on your time, which is gripping reading for someone who enjoys better or cheaper ways of doing things. Everything from how to mount a flashlight to a bicycle handlebar with less than $1 in parts to how to build your own MP3 player. (The handlebar mount may translate well into "how to mount a small object to chassis tubes in a race car.") One of their mottos is "If you can't open it, you don't own it!"

Cool Tools
Kevin Kelly's "Cool Tools" is a collection of useful, cool, I-want-one tools and books recommended by readers. Less homemade than the things on Make:, these are the things the Makers may find useful, at least as inspiration.

Street Use
Another of Kevin Kelly's sites, "Street Use" is a collection of down-home technology. Can't afford to buy it? Chances are someone in the world has made do with something they had on hand. That's the spirit behind Street Use.

Worth 1000
A picture is worth a thousand words, get it? I still haven't explored every corner of Worth 1000, but their Photoshop contests got me hooked, and their Photoshop tutorials are my excuse to keep coming back. "How to Chrome Plate Your Cherries" -- how could I stay away?

mental_floss
The website for mental_floss magazine. Can someone tell me why I hated history class but I can't get enough trivia? Maybe because my history teachers never had the wicked sense of humor that the mental_floss staff has. I also have several of their brilliantly-written books, though I am still asking for the others (and a subscription to the magazine) for Christmas, hint hint.

Between all that and working on the Haydon Racing Online Store, how's a guy supposed to get any sleep?

I'm Back

2006-11-14T14:55:00.000-06:00

Yes, back from Mexico, a little burned and a little wiser (Cancun is for teenagers looking to get drunk and for tourists looking to watch teenagers getting drunk, not for anyone desiring a quiet, relaxing vacation).

I am excited to announce the opening of the Haydon Racing Online Store! The designs haven't been finalized yet (I will be adding and possibly removing and rearranging), but you will be able to buy such wonderful things as:

A T-shirt with a picture of the Tiga on the front and "65" on the back
A T-shirt with "65" in a white circle and "TIGA CFF" and "Haydon Racing" on the front
A license plate frame declaring "I (heart) Formula Ford / My other car is a TIGA"

I'll gladly add coffee mugs, mouse pads, tote bags, and dog shirts (dog shirts?? dog shirts!) with racing themes if you ask. Just say the word and I'll try, or else I'll come up with some excuse why I can't do it.

Happy shopping!

Back to Mexico

2006-11-01T16:42:00.000-06:00

Just in case anyone needs me during the coming week, I will be in Mexico from Saturday (11/04) through Wednesday (11/08). I'll be "connected" again on Friday (11/10).

I'd promise to bring back some sunshine, but the forecast calls for rain through Thursday.

The Bartelt Belt

2006-10-30T15:09:00.000-06:00

Soon I will need to say good-bye (maybe only temporarily) to the Bartelt Belt.

Informally known as the "Club Ford Federation World Heavyweight Championship Belt," it was designed by Jack Bartelt to honor the Midwestern Council Club Formula Ford class champions. It's an impressive piece of leather, with engraved metal plaques bearing the names of all the champions. The center logo is a larger plaque depicting Jack's Lola T-540 surrounded by the legend "Midwestern Council - Club Formula Ford Champion." On each side of the center logo is a Midwestern Council logo.

The "tongue" (not the buckle) end has one plaque:
Past CFF Champions:
1987 Mike Mudjer
1988 Steve Stadel
1989 Pete Wood
1990 Jeff Jagusch
1991 Mike Wood
1992 Pete Wood

The buckle side has individual plaques, added as each championship is won:
1st Annual Winner of the "Bartelt Belt": 1993 ~~Pete~~ Mike Wood
1994 Marc Blanc
1995 Jack Bartelt
1996 Jack Bartelt
1997 Mike Schindlbeck
1998 Dean Elston
1999 and 2000 Millenium Champion Joe Christenbury
2001 Jack Bartelt
2002 Pete Wood
2003 Scott Reif
2004 Scott Reif
2005 John Haydon

In case anyone's counting, that's 2 championships for Scott Reif, 2 for Joe Christenbury, 3 for Jack Bartelt, and 4 for Pete Wood. Pete will get his name on the belt for a ~~fifth~~ fourth time in 2006. (Three champions won their titles in my car -- Dean Elston in 1998, Pete Wood in 2002, and me in 2005.)

Speaking of my car, the engine block is being checked for cracks right now. I need to test the oil pressure gauge and tear open a few oil pumps to try to build one good pump. I'm hopeful that if I keep working through the winter, I may be able to get the car together in time to run a very early 2007 race somewhere in the south.

Wish me luck!

Not necessarily news

2006-10-24T11:40:00.000-05:00

Not much to report today, so instead here's a little racing humor.

YOU MIGHT BE A RACER IF...

Your email address refers to your race car rather than to you.

When someone asks where you went to school, you reply, "Skip Barber".

You always late apex the intersection and try to pass a few cars coming out.

You hate your one-hour commute but love the 600 mile tow to the race track.

You walk “the line” through the grocery store. Bonus points if you oversteer the cart.

“Overcooked it” doesn’t refer to food.

Your garage holds more cars than your house has bedrooms.

You have Lindstrand Motorsports on speed dial.

You save broken car parts as souvenirs.

You have car parts in your cubicle at work.

People know your class, car number, and car color, but not your name or face.

You bought a race car before buying a house.

You bought a trailer before buying furniture for the new house.

You're shopping for a new tow vehicle and still haven't bought furniture!

The garage floor is cleaner then your kitchen floor.

Eight socket wrenches… one spatula.

You have a separate drawer for 'garage clothes'.

Your first date involves her crewing for you.

You plan your wedding around the race schedule.

You're registered for wedding gifts at Pegasus.

Your Christmas list begins with a set of R60s and Forged Pistons.

Your family knows what R60s and Forged Pistons are.

105 degrees and sunny is a perfect day to wear a 3 layer suit and long underwear.

Your bathroom reading material consists of auto parts and racing supply catalogs, several books written by famous drivers, every book Carroll Smith has ever written.... and 400 car magazines, none of which have centerfolds.

A neighbor asks if you have any oil, to which you ask, "Synthetic or dinosaur?" and they reply, "Vegetable or corn."

You refer to the corner at the end of your street as "Turn One."

You've found your lawn mower runs pretty good on AVGas and even better on Sunoco Blue.

You spend more time polishing your A-Arms than you do on your hair.

Your wallet contains pictures of your racecar but no family members.

When someone refers to "The Good Book", you think of How to Build Competitive (Yet Legal) Formula Ford Engines.

Your winter long underwear is made of Nomex or CarbonX.

You tell your wife where you'd like to go on your vacation and she asks: "Why... is there a race there?"

Bad News

2006-10-12T16:57:00.000-05:00

Very bad news.

All classes at the Runoffs had a fourth qualifying session today. SCCA has a really cool internetwebby connection thing that allows you to watch the timing and scoring results in almost real time (updated every 10 seconds) while the cars are on the track.

I made the mistake of watching the Formula Ford session today.

Most cars got about 6 laps, but I noticed that after Lynn's second lap, there was nothing from her for the rest of the session. I was a little concerned, so I left a message on her cell phone to ask what was up. An hour or two later, I got a return message.

I still don't have all the details, but the phrases "10 feet in the air," "landed on my head," and "half the car is gone" were all in her message. It seems that on her third lap, another driver tried a dive-bomb pass (a very ill-advised move, according to witnesses) and tangled with her, sending her flipping through the air. She landed upside-down.

Lynn was very lucky to have escaped injury, but she got her bell rung, she's out of the event, and her car is destroyed. I'm sick that her first trip to the Big Show ended like this. The event stewards are going to take disciplinary action against the other driver because multiple witnesses agree that he was entirely to blame for the incident.

I hope someone else had a good day today.

Runoffs

2006-10-06T10:42:00.000-05:00

What was I thinking? I completely forgot to tell you the big news. Two of my racing buddies, Lynn Serra and Bruce Lindstrand, are going to the SCCA National Championship Races, AKA the Runoffs!

I'm jealous. The Runoffs was my goal this year, but I couldn't keep the car together. Bruce and Lynn both drove their hearts out all season and earned their invitations. Lynn will be driving the oldest car in the field, but don't count her out. Bruce's car isn't the latest either, but he was fast enough to lap me in the rain at Blackhawk with a broken steering column.

My car is Bruce's old car, and Lynn was a student at one of the first driver's schools that I taught, so I feel almost like my dad and daughter are out there. I'm so proud.

Oops. Bruce will probably kill me for calling him my dad. It's not like he's a really old guy or anything.

Progress Report

2006-10-06T10:10:00.000-05:00

Well, if you can call it progress. The crankshaft is back from the machine shop. Woo hoo. It is now sitting on a shelf with a clean bill of health, waiting patiently for me to set up a new garage space.

Yes, there you have it, the reason I've been too busy to turn a wrench lately is that I am moving. On the plus side, the new abode has a basement. On the minus... the garage is detached, unheated, uninsulated, and currently occupied by a couple of little furry things. But I think evicting them is going to be the easy part. A little steel wool, a little expanding foam, and their little portals should be plugged. (I heard somewhere that mice don't like to chew steel wool. Is that just an old wives' tale?)

My mission, and I have decided to accept it, is to take an unsuspecting 2-car garage with bare stud walls and a single light bulb (with the light switch on the opposite side of the garage from the door, brilliant) and transform it into a race shop, while still leaving enough room for my girlfriend to park her car inside. Oh, and my budget is approximately zero. My head will self-destruct in ten seconds.

So here's my plan. Seal up every crack and hole I can find. The bare rafters should get at least a few planks across them so we can store things in the "attic", but I'm thinking something resembling an actual floor and even some insulation would be worthwhile. Some insulation between the wall studs covered with either pegboard or slat walls will keep the heat in and the tools off the floor. (One entire wall is already covered in pegboard, and I have two industrial shelving units for the heavy stuff.) Finally, paint every surface white to reflect the light from a pair of 48" twin-tube fluorescent lights.

Any other suggestions? I'd love to move the light switch next to the door, but I'm no electrician. If I were, I'd also convert to higher amperage (or whatever you do) to keep the air compressor from blowing a fuse, and I'd add an outlet about every foot.

What would you do to set up a new shop on a shoestring?

Progress Report

2006-07-11T14:56:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to let you all know that there has been no progress to report.

The crankshaft is currently at the machine shop for a check-up. The engine block is on the stand, waiting for me to finish taking all the threaded plugs out so the shop can check it as well. The rest of the engine parts are scattered all over the place, waiting to find out their destiny: part of a freshly-rebuilt motor, or scrap heap? Reassembly will begin when and if the block and crank are given a clean bill of health.

The engine bearings all looked brand-new when I tore the engine down. There were no metal shavings in the oil pan, which suggests that the flakes we saw in the oil filter were leftovers from the last meltdown. (Yes, I know, replacing the oil cooler and all the oil lines after blowing an engine is just basic engine building. It's also bloody expensive, thanks.) I now suspect that a flake or two made their way into the oil pressure gauge line and blocked the pressure from registering on the gauge.

I am still looking for a good (pronounced "easy") way of testing the oil pressure gauge. I can hook a second gauge to it via a T-fitting and pressurize the whole thing with an air compressor or nitrogen tank. Unfortunately, the compressor and nitrogen tank to which I have immediate access are both located several hundred feet away from where a car could go. I will not take the gauge out of the car because removing and installing it risks damaging the gauge. I don't want to replace the gauge again if I don't really need to.

That's not to say that I haven't been keeping busy. My goodness no. I've been doing all kinds of things. All kinds. Like... well, losing at Scrabble, for one. I have also re-read a few racing books, started to get a bit of a tan (nearly almost learned to swim, too), and bought a staple gun. I also saw a college friend on Jeopardy! (she was the champion for a day), outgrew my driver's suit, and watched a parade featuring two -- yes, two -- brand-new garbage trucks.

Not all on the same day, of course. You have to pace yourself.

Broke, Busted, Disgusted (Reprise)

2006-05-22T14:12:00.000-05:00

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.

SCCA National FF Points

2006-05-16T10:53:00.000-05:00

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.

Squish, squish, slide, slide

2006-05-15T11:21:00.000-05:00

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?

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.

Next stop: Blackhawk Farms, May 20-21, SCCA "Carl Mueller Memorial" National race. Hey, a little sunshine might be nice!

Sunday Muddy Sunday

2006-05-03T13:23:00.000-05:00

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:

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

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.

Excuses, excuses

2006-04-24T17:40:00.000-05:00

Hey there! Remember me? Yes, that’s right, the guy who left you hanging 3 months ago today. I know, nobody likes excuses, but here they are anyway, in no particular order:

Winter
Problems with the new gearbox
Cold and snow
It’s our busy season at work
Not much progress during the winter
Man, it’s been busy at work!
Went to Mexico for a few days to escape winter
More problems with the new gearbox
Haven’t had a minute to think about the blog because work has been so busy
Problems not necessarily related to the gearbox
I really hate winter.

I would love to tell you that I ran the first National race last weekend at GingerMan (where Lynn Serra finished third in her first National race, congratulations), but instead I was busy trying to solve a variety of gearbox problems. Some were my own fault (you’d think by now I’d know how to properly install the gears in a Hewland Mk 9 gearbox), and some were not even reasonable (a Sawzall is not a tool you normally reach for when you want to install a starter). I thought they were all behind me until yesterday. I’d like to tell you the story of yesterday’s problem, which is a pretty fair representation of how these problems have presented themselves.

Picture the scene:

It's a lovely Sunday afternoon in spring. The car is in one piece. The engine has been started and run, and much effort has gone into making the new gearbox suitable for this car. The last major project is to align the car, that is, to get the wheels pointing in the directions they should point when the driver’s weight is in the car. My father has come to my garage to help. His job is to simulate my weight in the car while offering encouragement and helping me to figure out why the math doesn’t add up correctly. (Usually by the third attempt to adjust any particular setting, my brain has become so fried that I start turning the adjuster the wrong way. He’s there to catch me when I do that.)

We have successfully set the front and rear A-arm lengths, ride height, chassis rake, and front camber angle. I head to the rear of the car to measure the rear camber angle when I notice a puddle of hydraulic fluid on the floor under the gearbox. A puddle of any type of fluid under a car is not a good sign, but a puddle of hydraulic fluid indicates a problem in either the brake system (potentially very bad, especially if it leads to a brake failure during a race) or the clutch release system. The problem is clearly not in the brake system because one item remaining on the checklist reads “Bleed Brakes.”

I wish the problem had been in the rear brake system. At least then the problem would be easily accessible and easily repaired.

So we spent the rest of the afternoon separating the gearbox from the rest of the car. It only involves removing 10 bolts and 2 nuts and disconnecting 2 hydraulic connections, but it’s still not a job I enjoy. Especially when we look inside the bellhousing and see… clutch fluid mixed with transmission fluid.

The clutch leak was embarrassingly easy to solve (I think). It seems I didn’t tighten the feed line to the release bearing properly, allowing clutch fluid to gush out whenever the pedal was pressed. But the transmission input shaft seal is also leaking heavily, allowing gear lube to flow out and mix with the leaking clutch fluid and make a real mess. If you’ve never seen a mixture of hydraulic fluid and RedLine SuperLight ShockProof gear oil, let’s just say it’s a pretty good appetite suppressant.

I searched through my spare parts, but I did not have a spare input shaft oil seal. As it was late on a Sunday afternoon, we called it quits for the day. It’s a rather odd seal, and most auto parts stores (particularly those open on Sunday afternoons) don’t stock them.

The seals are stocked by Pegasus Auto Racing Supplies, so I picked up three of them today. Hopefully the two spares will enjoy several peaceful years in the spare parts bin.

Driver of the Year

2006-01-24T11:41:00.000-06:00

Last Saturday was the annual Midwestern Council of Sports Car Clubs awards banquet. We gather each year to honor the champions in each class and to present several special awards to members who have excelled in areas that aren’t scored. Sportsman of the Year is one of those awards, given to the competitor who is voted by the other members to have driven hard but always clean, helping others along the way, demonstrating the spirit of fair play, respecting others, and behaving well even in the face of defeat. Driver of the Year is awarded to the driver who has not only finished well in his class, but has also shown excellence in his driving skill (sort of a “champion of champions” award).

I was voted the Sportsman of the Year in 2004, primarily because of a long story involving an engine that I was told was legal, and a fantastic season (including a lap record) that I voluntarily forfeited when I found out that the engine I had been using wasn’t legal. I was glad that people appreciated my honesty, but I couldn’t help wishing that I could have been remembered for something other than that embarrassing episode.

This year, I was nominated again for Sportsman of the Year and also for Driver of the Year. The Sportsman nomination was partially because I helped to honor Frank Nelson, a Formula Vee driver who had passed away over the winter. He had asked to be buried in his racecar, but his family found that the cost was prohibitive. They mentioned that the next best might be to scatter his ashes around the racetrack from his racecar, and I jumped at the chance to be involved. I got his car ready to go, and I gave him his final ride just before the start of the first FV race of the season.

Lynn Serra won the Sportsman of the Year award, which I still enjoyed, since I was one of several people who nominated her. Lynn works on the Safety & Rescue team whenever she isn’t racing her Formula Ford. She frequently solicits help for other drivers who are in a pinch, but I honestly don’t remember her ever asking anyone to help her. I was thrilled to be voted the 2005 Driver of the Year. Even when I do well on the track, I sometimes find myself making excuses for my success (the other cars weren’t running very well, only three cars showed up, Pete must have had an off day), so it was a very pleasant surprise to have my peers give me such a vote of confidence.

I was also presented with a lovely plaque for the Club Formula Ford championship, but the real highlight of my evening was getting the Bartelt Belt.

Let’s back up a little. Despite what they show in movies (Le Mans and Driven being prime examples), racers are generally not a serious, dry, scowling bunch. Racing is a serious enough activity. We like to keep things in perspective by not taking anything else too seriously, even if it means poking fun at ourselves and what we do.

Jack Bartelt reminds us of the humorous side of racing better than anyone else I’ve met. When I first saw Jack race, I noticed that while all the other drivers would wave to the corner workers on their cool-down laps, Jack would instead shake a rubber chicken at them as he drove past. Jack decided to inject some humor into the Club Formula Ford championship while adding a little to the prestige and lure of the class at the same time.

In 1993, Jack made the Bartelt Belt, a pro wrestling-style championship belt with the names of all the past CFF champions on it. Every year since 1993, it has been presented to the CFF champion by “Action Jackson,” Jack’s WWF alter ego. The first Midwestern Council awards banquet I attended was for the 1993 season, and the hilarious presentation stuck with me. Ever since that night, I thought about how much fun it might be to be presented with the Belt. I confess that part of the reason I bought the Tiga was that I wanted a chance at the Belt.

Unfortunately, the people who organize the banquet have all gotten too old to see the humor and value in the belt presentation, so Jack was not given the stage or the microphone. We had to settle for an unofficial mini-presentation in one corner of the banquet hall after the official program was over. Several past CFF champions gathered to pass the belt to me in front of a small crowd of people who still appreciate lowbrow humor.

Here, Scott Reif (2003 & 2004 champ, in the glasses) prepares to hand over the Bartelt Belt while Jack “Action Jackson” Bartelt (1995, 96, 01 champ, in the mask) says some surprisingly nice things about me.

Speedy Petey (1989, 92, 2002 champ) was number 2 behind me this year. How do you like my Ford Cosworth tie??

The 2006 racing schedule is changing already. The June 24 Formula 1 support race has been officially cancelled. The National races at Nelson Ledges (July 29-30 and September 2-3) and Mid-Ohio (June 3-4) are sounding less appealing right now. Those tracks are a pretty long tow, and I’m not likely to gain enough points at those races to make the trip worthwhile. I may replace those races with some Midwestern Council events instead. And if I don’t get enough points early in the season to make the Runoffs, I may just finish the season running MC and SCCA Regional races.

Two seasons, two cranks, two blocks

2005-12-30T16:21:00.000-06:00

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.

Racing Checklists

2005-12-23T15:02:00.000-06:00

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.

2006 Racing Schedule

2005-12-15T16:28:00.000-06:00

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.

Winter 2, Ambition 1

2005-11-25T11:53:00.000-06:00

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.

Winter 1, Ambition 0

2005-11-17T17:04:00.000-06:00

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.

Crack check

2005-11-14T15:11:00.000-06:00

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.

Caribou Coffee

2005-11-10T16:27:00.000-06:00

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.

Fun Gearbox Info

2005-11-08T16:51:00.000-06:00

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.

A Second Crank Opinion

2005-11-07T16:12:00.000-06:00

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.

Chicken and Eggshells

2005-11-07T14:25:00.000-06:00

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.)

Garage Organization

2005-11-04T16:25:00.000-06:00

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.

Scrapbook Photos

2005-11-03T16:35:00.000-06:00

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.

More gearbox parts

2005-11-02T14:48:00.000-06:00

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.

Gearbox Teardown

2005-11-01T15:41:00.000-06:00

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.

Fuel Cell Maintenance

2005-10-28T16:36:00.000-05:00

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.

What a Mess!

2005-10-26T15:40:00.000-05:00

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.)

Photos from The Loooong Race

2005-10-25T16:01:00.000-05:00

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.

Photos from October 8

2005-10-21T13:18:00.000-05:00

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.

Thanks

2005-10-20T17:35:00.000-05:00

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!

That Loooong Race

2005-10-19T14:26:00.000-05:00

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!

Fall Sprints

2005-10-18T16:28:00.000-05:00

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 Vee. 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?

Catch-Up

2005-10-17T14:05:00.000-05:00

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:

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!

2005-09-07T11:37:00.000-05:00

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 Roadster, 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.

The Racetrack at the End of the Universe

2005-08-22T11:35:00.000-05:00

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:

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

2005-08-19T15:22:00.000-05:00

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...

Transmission Externals

2005-08-18T17:30:00.000-05:00

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":

"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.

Transmission Internals

2005-08-17T11:35:00.000-05:00

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.

Bad News

2005-08-16T09:40:00.000-05:00

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.

Kettle Moraine Double: Sunday

2005-08-15T15:37:00.000-05:00

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!

Kettle Moraine Double Regional: Saturday

2005-08-15T11:39:00.000-05:00

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...

East-West Challenge

2005-08-08T11:05:00.000-05:00

In recent years, one question has been asked over and over at road races across the country: “Where have all the cars gone?” In the ‘70s and ‘80s, so many cars would show up to a race that some classes (Formula Ford among them) would have to be run as two separate groups because all the cars couldn’t fit on the track at once.

Something happened in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and nobody can pin down what it was. Maybe it was the “me” era, maybe it was the rising cost of racing, maybe it was the advent of VCRs and video games. Whatever the reason, race attendance dropped. Classes which once enjoyed 80-car fields now saw 10-car fields. Where were all the cars?

Steve Beeler, a Club Formula Ford racer from Michigan, realized several years ago that the cars still existed, but the owners just weren’t racing them. He asked around, and most people agreed that the reason they didn’t race was because there were so few cars racing. A depressing catch-22.

Steve began a concerted effort to promote several specific races within the SCCA Central Division. Since CenDiv is roughly divided by Lake Michigan, all drivers were either on the “East” team or the “West” team based on each driver’s hometown. Continuing the east/west theme, two of the four race weekends would take place east of the lake, and the other two would be on tracks west of the lake.

The “East-West Challenge” was an instant success. Companies pitched in with contingency awards, which attracted more drivers. Car counts were back up in the 20s and 30s, which was enough to convince most Regions to give the FF/CFF race its own group instead of mixing them with other classes. Over 70 drivers have raced in the series, with more joining every race.

My initial plan for the season was to run the East-West Challenge again this year with only a few Midwestern Council races mixed in. But as I said once before, a racing schedule is at best flexible, a mere suggestion of what may happen. After winning the first two MC races and breaking the car at the first EWC race, I decided to concentrate on the MC season. I still want to run at least one or two EWC weekends, including this weekend’s races at Road America. Since I have missed the first four rounds of the series, I won’t be trying quite so hard to finish in the points. I plan to hook up with someone – maybe Speedy Petey – and just race for the fun of it. It is impressive to see a pack of 30 Formula Fords, even from the back!

Driver's Suits

2005-08-04T15:31:00.000-05:00

Of all the possible injuries a driver could suffer in an auto racing incident, burn injuries probably scare me the most. Niki Lauda will tell you how bad burns can be. (He looked quite a bit better when he had ears.) Because of that, my safety equipment -- especially my driver's suit -- has always been a high priority for me.

My first driver's suit was a hand-me-down from my father. Obviously, this suit means a lot to me. My mother gave it to him for Christmas back in the '70s, when it was cutting-edge and the best that money could buy. It was custom-tailored in bright yellow to match his car, and his name was embroidered above the chest pocket. It was constructed of a single layer of Nomex, which was common for firesuits back then. Drivers generally wore Nomex long underwear under their suits to get adequate protection. At the time, more protection meant more layers, which meant bulky, heavy suits. Drag racers wore multi-layer firesuits that looked like quilted snowmobile suits.

In 2002, my co-worker Michael Marmurowicz told me he wanted to sell his old driver's suit, a modern 3-layer suit by Italian manufacturer OMP. He never had a chance to wear it before he retired from racing some 10 years ago. I talked him out of listing it on eBay, and he sold it to me for less than it was worth. This suit has acquired some special meaning for me as well. One sleeve bears a patch of quilting fabric in memory of my friend Carol Nappi, and the other sleeve still has some of my friend Frank Nelson's ashes. Unfortunately, this suit is mostly black. It looks great and sleek and fashionable, but it is awful on sunny days. It sucks up sunlight like a sponge, and oddly enough, the medical crews aren't very sympathetic when you overheat while wearing it. Especially if you still wear a layer of Nomex long underwear under it.

After my last visit to the Med Shed, I was persuaded to get a lighter suit. OMP has been supplying safety equipment to Formula 1 teams for years, and they have done a lot of research and development on driver's suits. They recently introduced a new suit called the "Tecnica Light" which they claim is lighter and cooler than the previous generation of 3-layer suits. They only offer it in two colors, shiny silver and shiny red with a shiny silver chest -- the McLaren-Mercedes and Marlboro Ferarri F1 team colors. I chose silver, since red wouldn't go so well with a blue car.

The suit arrived this week, and it's more than a half a pound lighter than a standard OMP three-layer suit. I tried it on this morning, and right out of the box it feels softer, less stiff and less bulky than my old suit. It has knit panels on the knees and around the arms to allow sweat to evaporate instead of boiling the driver. Another nice feature about this suit is that it is not second-hand, so it's actually my size! I'm looking forward to trying it next weekend at Road America. Sorry everyone, I'll be crossing my fingers for 100 degrees and sunny!

Drive the Autobahn

2005-08-01T14:00:00.000-05:00

Meet the newest Club Formula Ford track record holder.

Sunday was the first SCCA race at the Autobahn Country Club in Joliet, Illinois. Because it is a new facility, one driver in each class would finish the weekend as a track record holder. Despite that draw, the turnout was surprisingly light. Pete Wood and I were the only two Club Formula Fords entered.

The schedule for the day was very calm, with only two track sessions. We would have a 25-minute qualifying session in the morning, and a 26-lap race after lunch. On the 1.4-mile "North" track, a 26-lap race should take just over half an hour.

I had the luxury of doing some low-speed laps on this track in April, in a borrowed Dodge Durango and then in Lynn Serra's Formula Ford. Although I kept both vehicles at touring speeds, I was able to get a very good education in which way the track went, and in how it would look from a low formula car perspective. Still, Pete had raced here in May with Midwestern Council, so he had three high-speed sessions in his own race car. He certainly knew the track better than I did, so I concentrated on doing my best to keep up with him during qualifying.

Fortunately for me, Pete took it fairly easy for the first part of the session, maybe letting me keep up with him while he showed me the line. Within ten laps, we were already turning faster times than he had turned in May. Several laps from the end, he moved over to let me pass. I found a little more speed in a couple of corners and got the pole position (and the qualifying track record) with a 1:10.523 to Pete's 1:11.089. Once again, a car in another class (Formula First, "FST") had gridded between us.

The race got off to a very bad start. We were all clean through the first few corners, but coming out of corner 5 I saw a large cloud of dust in my mirrors. When we came up the front straight, we saw that all corner stations were showing the black flag, which is a signal for all drivers to report to the pit lane. In other words, something big had happened, and the officials needed us to clear the track so they could deal with it. We slowed down to come back to the pit lane, and as we came to corner 5, we found out what the big deal was. Two Formula Vees had come together (kicking up the cloud of dust), and were now in the middle of the track, a pair of conjoined twins joined at the bellypan. One car was upside down, facing traffic, with the driver's helmet touching the track, and the other car was upright, on top of the other car, facing the correct direction. Don't ask me how they got that way.

We all proceeded to the pit lane (without the two FVs which were otherwise engaged) to wait for the restart. Before we had come to a full stop, the crew from Lindstrand Motorsports had set about distributing umbrellas and cold water to the drivers. Although they were only responsible for one car in our group, they checked on every driver to make sure that everyone would be able to continue. A grid worker began to lug a big water jug down the line of cars, but Zach (one of the Linstrand crew) stopped her and carried the jug for her on their ATV. They are a great group of people, and I'm not just saying that because they've saved me more times than I can count.

We lined up for a single-file restart and set off behind the pace car. The two Vees had left some gouges in the asphalt at corner 5, but the corner and safety crews had cleaned up all of the scattered dirt and spilled fluids. We took the green flag again and expected a much cleaner start. That was our second mistake.

The FST gridded between Pete and me was pressing me in the corners, but I was not interested in racing him. Meanwhile, Pete had a horsepower advantage over him and wanted to pass him on the straight. I didn't want to tangle with the third car -- I just wanted to settle down for a fun race with Pete. Unfortunately, the FST tried to pass me at the same time that Pete tried to set up to pass him... Pete got the short end of that deal and was forced to do a little off-road driving in a particularly rough spot. He was lucky to continue with only minor damage to the fiberglass bodywork. I decided to slow a bit to let Pete catch up, but the next time I saw him I was behind him, about to put him a lap down. As I passed, I noticed that his nosecone was missing. That has two problems: the car was less aerodynamic without it (not such a big deal on a short course like this), and the air that the nose would have directed through the radiator to keep the car cool was free to flow around the radiator instead. That could have been a big problem on a 90 degree day, and is the more likely reason that he slowed down.

For the victory lap, the pit marshall handed me the largest checkered flag I have ever seen in my life. This thing had to be 3 feet by 3 feet. I held it as far in front of me as I could, and it still flapped against my helmet. It was a pretty good feeling!

Since this was an SCCA Regional race, the MC points have not changed. I am now much more familiar and comfortable with the track than I was, so I should be ready when MC returns in October.

Next up: The SCCA Central Division East-West Challenge Double Regional Race at Road America on August 13 & 14. We will race on Saturday and again on Sunday. MC will run at Blackhawk the week after, and the week after that, the Wisconsin Region of the Classic Car Club of America will host "The Masterpiece Style & Speed Showcase" car show at Veteran's Park in Milwaukee. See you there!

2005-07-28T14:44:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday's race at Blackhawk was sponsored by Botham Vinyards in Wisconsin. The trophy (for those of us over 21, of course) included a bottle of Botham wine. My personal trainer Amy Stecker and I tried it last night -- "Go Racing Red" -- and it was delicious. If you want a red wine that doesn't burn your throat or taste like purple grape juice, you should really consider this wine.

I couldn't pick out any flavors of spices or wood or flowers or anything silly like that, and even if I could I probably wouldn't waste my energy on it. Botham uses words like "bold fruit character" and describes the "finish" as "long, smooth, and slightly tart." I think we used words like "sweet but not overpowering" and "mmmm" (as opposed to the typical *kawf kawff*).

Botham proclaims that it works well with sandwiches, grills, and picnic food. Peter, add pizza to the list.

And put in my order for a case.

Driving the Autobahn

2005-07-26T16:25:00.000-05:00

Well, it's official. I will be racing on Sunday, July 31 at the new Autobahn Country Club (North track) in Joliet, Illinois. It's an SCCA Regional event, so it doesn't count towards the Midwestern Council championship...

But Speedy Petey mentioned to me on Sunday that he was planning to run it, since he is planning to be in the area for an open house at Arres Racing the day before. I'll be at the same open house on Saturday, and even though the track is actually a bit farther from Arres Racing than from my home, it still makes sense for me to run the event. Pete ran the MC race there the weekend that I was at Grattan, so he already knows the track better than I do. I don't want to be too far behind and unprepared when MC returns in October.

Since I'm going for the track time and learning experience, I will be running my full MC weight (1175 pounds) instead of lightening the car to the SCCA weight (1100 pounds). I need the experience, not an SCCA win!

Lance and Fernando and Me

2005-07-25T11:06:00.000-05:00

Sunday was hot with a breeze so humid it made you think you were sitting in a sauna next to a dryer vent. I was surprised to learn that yesterday's official temperature was only 99 degrees. Hot weather is great for traction, since the tires get hot enough to melt and get really sticky. The drawback is that heat is bad for horsepower, engines, brakes, and drivers.

The morning practice went smoothly, with no big problems. The brakes were locking a bit entering some corners, but a small adjustment to the brake bias* cured it. Good thing, too -- I wanted to play around with the bias a little more, but the adjusting knob must have fallen off right after I adjusted it!

Remembering the minimum weight issue from June, I took the car to Impound after practice and ran it across the scales. My official weight: 1184 pounds, 34 pounds over the minimum. The car probably had a couple more gallons of fuel in it than when it was last weighed. At approximately 6 pounds per gallon, a gallon and a half of fuel would account for the 9 pound difference over last month. I decided to leave the extra weight in the car -- at least until I saw how qualifying would turn out.

Since I had the luxury of an in-car lap timer and a crew (my mother, my father, and my friend and personal trainer Amy Stecker), I instructed them to show me Pete Wood's lap times. My theory was that if I could compare our times, I would know if I needed to drive harder, remove weight from the car, or just relax and enjoy the drive. I went out behind Art Jahn's VW-powered sports racer, a fendered car built on a formula car chassis. My plan was to try to follow him for as long as possible, since the bodywork on his car creates a big draft, and that would give me quite a boost -- like being pulled along by a vacuum cleaner.

I almost stayed behind Art for one lap. At the end of that first lap, my on-board timer showed 1:20, which I later found out would have been almost good enough for the pole position. But since the car really wasn't warmed up yet (neither was the driver), I stayed out and tried to go faster. As I edged the car down through the 1:19s, my father showed me the pit board reading 1:21, 1:22, 1:20. Pete turned a best lap of 1:20.2, while my best was a 1:19.2.

I would start fifth on the grid, in front of all of the more modern Formula Fords, two Formula A cars (one running a 2-liter Alfa Romeo twincam engine, and one running a 1600cc Lotus twincam engine), and of course the other 4 Club Formula Fords. Frank Reimann qualified his yellow Formula Ford between Pete and me, which meant that Pete would line up directly behind me on the pace lap. That was a bit of luck for me, since it is much easier to defend your position against a car starting directly behind you than against a car starting next to you.

The rest of the morning was spent checking over the car and getting it ready for the race. I debated taking some weight out of the car, but with a one second per lap advantage over Pete, I decided to leave it in. We spent the lunch break trying to keep cool, moving as little as possible, and drinking as much water and Gatorade as we could stand.

Pushing the car to the false grid before the race, getting buckled in, and waiting for the start of the pace lap are probably the longest, most exciting, nervous, nerve-wracking, tense, intense fifteen minutes in a race driver's life. I could write 1000 words describing why, but the opening montage in the movie Grand Prix and the race start sequence in the movie Le Mans capture the mood effectively. Waiting on the false grid, with all the revving engines around you, all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, the sound of your own engine, and the sudden shriek of the grid workers' whistles as they count down the last five minutes before the pace lap.

I poured some ice water down the neck of my driver's suit just before we left for the pace lap. The cars line up for the pace lap in two-by-two formation behind the pace car, then spread out single-file again as the pace lap rolls off to weave back and forth to scrub their tires, wiping off any gravel and trying to bring the rubber up to optimum temperature. The corner workers give a thumbs-up as the field passes, and wave to the drivers they know. Coming into the last turn, the pace car slows enough to let the cars get back into a tight two-by-two formation. We crawl side by side through the last turn and watch the pace car dart into the pit lane. Our attention shifts to the starter on the bridge overlooking the start/finish line. He waves the green flag, and as soon as the drivers catch the first glimpse of green, all drivers slam the throttles wide open, jockeying for position and trying to stay in front and maybe move up a spot or two before the first corner.

Pete got a little bit of a jump on me, though I'm not sure how. I heard a loud pop when I hit the gas pedal, which may have been my carburetor clearing itself out (clearing its throat, you might say). That could have delayed my acceleration for just a hundredth of a second, which could have given Pete just a bit more speed. Maybe he saw the flag a hair sooner or reacted to it a hundredth of a second earlier than I did... Whatever the cause, I saw him trying to come up between the two rows of cars. He wasn't gaining ground on me very quickly, but it was enough to worry me. I edged just a bit to the middle to take a slightly defensive line into corner 1. He stuck behind me for the first lap as I tried to keep up with the faster cars in front of us. After about five laps, my father held up the pit board with "+06" on it -- I had already built up a lead of six seconds.

Apparently Pete got into a struggle with a sports racer, which slowed him down considerably. I watched the pit signals climb (+10, +11, +13, +16) and tried to take it easy and save the car. After about twenty minutes, I realized that the car was likely to last longer than I was. The heat was starting to make me feel sick, and my flesh felt like it was cooking -- literally simmering. I had to force myself to concentrate on driving so that I wouldn't be able to think about how I felt.

I made it to the end of the race and took my victory lap. I felt pretty good when I got out of the car, but after sitting down for a few minutes, I realized I was getting dizzy and weak. Amy and my father carried me to the medical building to get checked out and cooled down. After several cold, wet towels and a couple of bottles of PowerAde, I was able to get my legs under me again. Before I left their air-conditioning to go back out into the blast furnace outside, the paramedics scolded me for wearing a black driver's suit on such a hot, sunny day.

The CFF points after this weekend:

John Haydon - 125
Pete Wood - 105
Michael Schindlbeck - 53
Denis Downs - 33
Scott Reif - 33
Larry Noble - 17
Jon Borkowski - 16
Paul Schindlbeck - 16
Dick Plank - 11
Bob Fleming - 8

Next up: I don't know yet! There is an SCCA Regional race at the new Autobahn Country Club track in Joliet next weekend. I may try to get some track time there in preparation for the MC race there in October. Otherwise, the SCCA Double Regional (East-West Challenge) race at Road America is next month. I'll post when I decide.

*Most race cars are able to adjust the bias, or ratio of braking force on the front wheels vs. the force on the rear wheels. When the brakes are applied hard -- as in a race car -- the wheels slow down but the rest of the car wants to continue forward. This shifts the weight of the car off of the rear wheels and onto the front wheels. This gives the front wheels more traction than the rears, which means the front brakes can do more braking than the rears. If you adjust the bias too much to the front wheels, the brakes will overpower the tires, and lock the front wheels.