The First Race
(c) 2005 J. Sage Schreiner
www.unsage.com
Saturday morning of the first race weekend of 2004, I was up early and back at the track. I used my morning practice session to re-acquaint myself with driving in the heavy Group 2 traffic and destroy the last of my brake pads. My times for the practice session were around 1:30.5 per lap. That was slow for the tight Mission, BC track. I was going to have to find a lot more speed to keep up, but I had a whole weekend ahead of me.
With only one race group for the weekend and a well-sorted car, my spare time was spent resting and hanging out with the informal “Dirt Cheap Racing Co-op” BMW E30 racers. I also used some of this time to visualize the track. This can really help me with problem solving and consistency. During the lunch down-time, I changed my transmission fluid, and put on a new set of brake pads. I tried to bed the new pads as well as possible, but this wasn't easy in a crowded paddock.
During my Saturday afternoon qualifying, I felt like I was driving hard and fast, but I was having to brake earlier than I would have liked. My pedal was firm, but the car just wasn’t slowing. Several times I went into a corner too hot, blowing my lap times. It was an artifact of the unbedded brakepads. I felt like I was driving my guts out, but I still qualified last of the three G-P competitors by over a second. The two Datsun 510s had qualified 1 second and 2.5 seconds faster than my best time of 1:29.9. I had to do better, but I just didn't have a clue where the time was going to come from. I felt like I was entering corners as fast as possible, and getting on the gas as early as possible.
I spent more time visualizing. Some how, I had to find an extra second and change. I fell asleep replaying the laps over and over. I imagined braking a tad later, trailing off the brakes a touch deep in the corner, getting on the gas a moment earlier. Sunday morning, I woke up earlier than I needed to, and spent more time replaying the laps in my head. Somehow, it already felt cleaner and smoother, as if I had already turned those fast laps in my sleep.
At the track, I turned in some fast laps without traffic getting in my way. I also spent a few laps behind the slower of the two G-P Datsun 510s. It was a good chance to compare our driving and see where he was faster. After the qualifying session, I went over and introduced myself to Scott Morton, driver of the yellow 510, #34. I always believe that it's good to put a face to competitors.
As it happened, I had out qualified him. My time was 1.2 seconds faster than my time of the previous day and I was about 2/10ths faster than he was. Unfortunately, I was having clutch issues. It became more and more difficult to get the car into gear. It wasn't going to stop me from racing, but it wasn't going to make me faster.
Several hours before my Group 2 race the butterflies started. I tried to nap a little in the cab of my truck. I kept myself hydrated and fed, and I waited. And waited. Group 2 was last up on the menu and I had all afternoon to contemplate unpleasant outcomes.
Just before my race, I had one last swig of water, and then got my safety equipment on. Group 2 pulled out onto the track for a warm-up lap behind the pacecar. I was still having trouble with the clutch. I did my best to cleanly match the revs on my shifts and avoid smacking into anyone on the pace lap.
Two cars behind me was the yellow G-P Datsun 510 of Scott Morton. Several cars ahead of me was the red G-P Datsun 510 of Mark Wilson. Mark had been about 2.5 seconds per lap faster than me in qualifying. He was going to be hard to catch, but I decided that I was going to try, while staying ahead of Scott. That was the plan, anyway.
At the end of our pace lap, they waved us off, and made us go back around for another lap. This is usually because the leaders get ahead of themselves and jump on the gas before the green. As we came back around onto the straight after our second pace lap, the green flag waved at Start / Finish, and the pack was off! All except me, anyway. I couldn't get the dang gearbox into 3rd! A good five cars passed me before I finally stuffed the shifter into second. But all was not lost! As the pack bunched up into the tight first corner, I took a pucker-inducing dive down the inside, regained several places and re-passed the yellow G-P 510 that had just whizzed past me. At mid-corner, I put two wheels onto the dirt to avoid swapping paint with an Rx7 and fought through heavy traffic as the pack slowly stretched out.
Just ahead of me was the white and blue H-P VW Rabbit of Hans Kunst. Just ahead of him I could see Mark's red Datsun 510. I needed to get by the Rabbit to catch up to the 510. Hans was a touch slower than me in the corners, but a little faster on the straight. (You know you're under-powered when a car from a slower class can pull you on the straights!). This made Hans hard to pass, so I snuggled right up behind him in preparation to pass on the wide exit pavement of Turn 3. Immediately as we came around, however, the corner workers were waving a yellow flag. A mildly crumpled Club Rabbit was parked on the inside of the turn.
They yellow flagged the course and we drove around for several laps behind the pace car while they dragged off the wounded Rabbit. The pack bunched up. Mark's red 510 was two cars in front of me. If I could get behind him on the re-start, I could keep some pressure on him, making him drive defensively and maybe force him into a mistake. I could almost taste victory! When the green waved again, I screwed up the start, again. Gahferkitdingblast! I simply couldn't get the car into 3rd. I had a mental picture of coasting to a gentle stop on the middle of the straight in front of the spectators. After an endless moment, the shifter snicked into 3rd, and I was off like old milk. Unfortunately, the red 510 had nothing but clear air, while I was stuck in traffic.
I worked past Hans’ Rabbit, but Chris Romney's red RX7 was creeping up behind me, getting closer lap after lap. I tried to think light thoughts and make up some of the distance between me and Mark, but started over-driving the car – and lost time as I locked up the brakes and entered a few corners a little too fast or exited too sideways. Several times I also had trouble getting the car into gear. I backed off, relaxed a little, and immediately started going faster – but Mark continued to gain on me by about a second per lap. I tried to stay close enough that if he made a serious mistake, I could take advantage of it, but he was driving consistent laps. After a few more laps, I let Chris by, but stayed close on his tail for the rest of race. By the time they put up the "5 Minute" sign I was hot, tired and ready for the race to end.
When the checkered waved, I had placed second in my class with a fast lap of 1:28.15. While there wasn't a ton of G-P competition for the first race of the year, it was still a great result. I packed up my truck, loaded the yes-it’s-the-same car onto the trailer, and said goodbye to my race friends. It had been a good weekend for me. The car was still straight, I still had all my fingers and most of my good looks, and I had placed well in my race. Girlchief and Racerdog had both been missed, but would be at the following race.
I drove south across the border. The sun was setting across the spring-green farmland. A year of racing stretched in front of me and I was happy.