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After a few years writing about the good old days it occurs to me that many of you might enjoy a more modern column this month. Something more exciting than moth balls and gas stabilizer. I can find my way to top gear in a five speed transmission after all. As many of you know my son Rob left his '87 911 behind when he went off to defend our country back in 2000. Since he was to be overseas for at least a year, I told him to leave the car with me and I'd keep the battery charged. It didn't take long to get an order into Tire Rack and begin to beat up Class 8 in the NER Autocross series. One year turned into two and people were beginning to ask when he was going to come back and get his car. That finally happened and the Silver Fox was driven down to Atlanta to the Peachtree region and fitted with new sneakers in preparation for their Autocross series. Racing was not to be as the engine spun a rod bearing the day before the first event and the rebuild lasted as long as Rob’s residency in Georgia. The new job, new house and new fiancé are now in Phoenix and the race season starts out there about the time that everyone else's ends. A Christmas visit to his new digs got scrubbed and the fares around New Years made Europe look cheap. We settled on the weekend of the 10th of January since Southwest decided that $99 looked good each way and I agreed. After the flight was booked we discovered that the Arizona Region had scheduled an autocross that weekend. And not on Sunday, when my flight would have left before tech opened, but on the only Saturday they'll use all season. They use a large lot at the Civic center and a 10 k charity run was scheduled to start there on Sunday so they backed it up a day. What great luck for us? Arriving in Phoenix it seemed like summer had never ended. I left the coldest weekend of the winter in New England to find that our summer wasn't gone at all, it had just moved to Arizona for a while. Highs in the 80's and lows at night in the 50's. Wow, why doesn't everyone live here? Well there's a reason and it's called heat. I thought it was strange that all the grass was brown and the only green plants to be found anywhere were in the lobby of Raul and Teresa's Mexican Restaurant. Things are so dry there this time of year that you can spot a car on a dirt road 20 miles away. Did I mention that it was flat? Actually there are a few mountains outside the valley; we even climbed one on Friday. It took us over an hour and a half to struggle to the top (Robs fiancée, Marie, showed us the way) only to find a plaque that announced that the peak was 1200 ft above sea level. How embarrassing. We decided at the top not to mention the altitude to friends. The walk down wasn't a lot easier but at least we got to tell everyone all the way down that they were almost there. They all seemed pleased to hear that even if it was less accurate as we got closer to the bottom. Autocrosses run in the desert start early and end early, something about the midday sun later in the year, so we rolled out at 7 am for the half hour run to the lot. They wanted to get the first car off at 8am and weren't that far off. It's an interesting format, one that I wish we could use in New England. Each run is actually three laps around the course, the first lap is practice and the last two are timed as individual runs. That means cars roll out onto the course from near the timing trailer (yes, the timers are inside a trailer with fold up sides for easy viewing) without the drama of redline launches and ear splitting exhausts. Gaining speed and nerve warms up the tires, the brakes, and the brain and allows for a great flying start. If you don't do well on your first timed lap just keep going and do better on the next one. What a concept, no waiting around to correct your mistakes just drive faster right now, I loved it. Of course I'm not writing this piece because things went smoothly. It was suggested that the old guy (that would be me) warm up the tires so I went first at about 9:30 am. Practice lap was easy, the first timed lap (the starter even waves a flag as you blast through, really cool!) reminded me that there is sand in the desert and some of it had found its way onto the course. I turned, the car went straight and a gate was missed. Not to worry, I still had another lap to go but in the middle of that lap a corner worker stepped in front of me waving a yellow flag. It wasn't red but I came to a stop anyway figuring a timing problem would give me an extra practice run that I certainly needed. As I was motioned to the pits I noticed that people were running towards me with fire extinguishers, not a good sign. Years of autocrossing have trained me to never use my mirrors to check for errant pylons as it breaks your concentration and makes a good run bad or a bad run worse. It never improves you time so I never look back (there may be a life lesson here!) and besides the inside mirror had fallen to the floor for the fifth time and we were out of mirror glue. Had I looked I would have seen huge clouds of billowing smoke suddenly coming out of the rear of the 911. I was told that the whale tail directed the air flow so efficiently that it looked like the entire back of the car was on fire. Rob, standing on the edge of the course near the staging area, was watching closely as his new engine, his bank account, and his life went up in smoke because of his father. He stood silently as all around him people were screaming" stop that car", "the car's on fire ". He said later that the stress of it all prevented him from uttering a single word. That was lucky for me. It turned out to be less than a disaster as an oil line to the front cooler had been cut by the right rear tire and had sprayed oil all over the tire, the brakes, the wheel well, the right side heater box and exhaust system. It was the oil hitting the hot exhaust parts that made it look like a plane crash but on fact it was only about 3 quarts of oil that was vaporized. As the car rolled to a stop, local members (who we hadn't even met yet) arrived with a floor jack, tools, and enthusiasm. It was a good thing too, since I think our entire tool kit was a pair of nail clippers that Marie had in her purse. They had the tire off before I could apologize for oiling the course and a turn of the key showed the leak before I could shut it off. We figured that our day was over until a competitor came over with a guy on his cell phone who could help. Jack Doverspike, the owner of Stuttgart South West was only about ten minutes away and while his shop was booked all day, he would drop everything to do a repair so that we could get back to the competition. AAA to the rescue and we were at Jack's door in less than 30 minutes. A little folding money to the underpaid tow operator sped up the whole process. Jack is my kind of guy. He said that he thought he had an oil line to fit but if not he'd make one. His ten bay shop was filled with everything from 356's to a couple of 993's, and lots of 914's and even a 928. The only thing he didn't have was chairs in the waiting area. Everyone was in the shop watching, helping or learning. T he oil line flange balked (Jack blamed NE winters) so rather than risk a broken fitting, he just cut off the damaged section and replaced it with a braided stainless steel section. A hand made bracket kept the line away from the tire. It wasn't a Woods Brothers stop, but it was close. The entire time he was explaining the choices, asking us to choose and soliciting ideas. He’s a great guy. Look him up when you're in the area. I drove back to the course as the lunch break ended and got back in line at staging. I figured that we had probably lost our morning runs but they were so glad to see us back that we were allowed to keep going until we made them all up. Rob ran next and in spite of a spin set the bar high, a couple seconds off FTD. As he went out to a work station I got ready to go again. My run produced an FTD which, while it didn't last the day, sure made all that scrambling around at Jack's shop worthwhile. Rob got within a second of me for a second in class and we all went home happy. Proving once again that age and experience can outrun youth and exuberance. To be fair, I've had about four times the seat time that Rob has had driving the Silver Fox in anger. I'm sure that he'll overtake me soon enough with a little more practice. My next visit will have to wait until after their season is over before I go out to sunny Arizona again. No sense being embarrassed by youth and exuberance, that mountain climb to 1200 feet was enough for me. KTF |
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