So, some time last year, I’m hanging out with the IT7 Gang (Pack? Gaggle?) drinking some after-race beers and we get to talking (IT7 is a regional class made up of older RX-7s). “So, why don’t you come race with us, Mister tGA??” and I’m all like “blah, blah, blah, sure why not, blah, hand me a beer, burp, I could run with you guys, noooooo problem, burp…” We go on our way, split for the Winter.
Some time a few weeks ago, I get a call from Mister IT7 Dan Sheppard. “So, what are you doing Memorial Day weekend?” and I’m like “Uh well, family, friends, stuff to do, house work, lawn I’m going to NJMP the following weekend for the Majors, think I’ll leave the Integra parked that weekend.”
“Good!” he said. “I’ve got an extra IT7 for you to drive.”
“Um, wut?”
“Don’t you remember? ‘I could drive with you guys, no problem’?”
Shit.
So Dan sets me up with his ‘last year’ car and pretty much all I have to do is drive up to his house, throw my gear into his truck, and trailer the thing an hour to NHMS for the Memorial Day weekend triple. Given he’d called my bluff, and given that my very existence – nay, my very reputation – was at stake (and given I really did want to drive one of those) how could I say no? The deal was done.
Weather’s looking the suck for the weekend and it’s raining all day, but I make it to their house in Raymond NH that Thursday night without a hitch (though the traffic did suck). After brief hellos I swapped over my gear and we jumped into the trucks (he had another pickup with his camper shell and pulling his enclosed trailer.) I fired up the truck and noticed the CEL was on; got his attention, rolled down the window, and asked. “Oh, no prob, that’s been on for a while. C’mon, LET’S GO!” OK. Put my foot on the brake to pull it out of park and the pedal goes to the floor. I look over at him and get one of those hands-up-in-the-air-you-ready? gestures and figure, ‘oh well, guess it’s been doing that for a while too’ and wave him on. We pull out of the drive and I realize that this thing has almost NO brakes, making it a very interesting tow — in the rain and traffic. I could get some brakes at the very end of the travel, and I figure if HE can deal with this, so can I. We make it to NHMS (lots of planning ahead for lane changes and turns) and we get to registration with 5 minutes to go. As I park the “SERVICE BRAKE SYSTEM NOW!!!” light comes on.
“Dan, does your brake pedal always go to the floor?”
“No, why?”
“‘Cause it’s going to the floor and there’s almost no brakes.”
We look over and there’s a growing puddle of brake fluid under the middle of the truck. I’d popped a brake line just as I started the trip. Thus begins an auspicious start to the weekend…
We got up the next morning and it was cold (40s) and the track was wet (is this really Memorial Day weekend, or is it March?). Friday was the driving school, and I was instructing, both on and off-track. The rain had backed off but it was still cold. The IT7 group up in the North East runs on Nitto tires “gentlemen’s agreement” (though that’s an ironic term with these guys); I had a lot of learning to do. I asked Dan if he’d had a chance to check oil and fuel level, he said “yep, we’re good” so I got in the car after lunch for our practice starts. At the same time, though, I’m there to instruct so that’s my focus.
Practice starts went well and I was trailing some of my students when the car kept cutting out on left turns, especially during long revs. It would just fall on its face. Brought it in at the end of the session and noticed that the fuel pump was HAMMERING in the back of the car (it has a fuel cell). JB pulls up and says “dude, you’re out of fuel”.
“No way, Dan said he checked it.”
“Was it dying on left handers?”
“Yep.”
“You’re out of fuel.”
“Can’t be!”
I was.
I had to run to the classroom session but once we got out I ran to the paddock, grabbed a small (2.5g) can of fuel, dumped it in with some pre-mix oil, and after a push-start got back on the grid. Same problem on track.
“Dan, car’s dying on left-handers still.”
“How much fuel did you put in?”
“I dunno, that can there?” (pointing)
“Oh, that won’t do it. You need to fill that thing up.”
Sigh…
But that was the end of the day, it was time for beer and food, and time to sign off my students. Gas will have to wait for another day…much company enjoyed that night, many beers consumed. Too many, really. But it was good beer…
We get up Saturday morning and it’s even colder than the day before…and POURING rain. Buckets. JB had taken me to the hotel (remember, truck’s brakes and Dan’s staying at the track) and after we grabbed coffee and a sandwich on the way we get to the track. The IT7 group had put up canopies so we had somewhat-dry places to stand, but it was COLD. Relentless cold, nothing like we should be seeing this weekend. We were Group 2 and the RADAR showed this rain was sticking around all day.
“Hey, Dan, this thing have a working defogger?”
“No, we don’t use those.” (His wife handed me a doll-baby diaper).
“OK, um, we have a set of rains?”
“Yep, I’ve got rains. Oh, you mean for your car? Unfortunately, no. But those Nittos on there are kinda-sorta ‘intermediate’ tires” he says, as I’m dodging a shifting river of water coming through the paddock spot…and I glance down to see what “kinda sorta” means, and it’s not really matching my expectations…
“Right. So the wipers work, right?”
“Um, nope. This was the car that was flooded at Dick’s (Patullo) shop, remember? Sat under muddy water for days.”
“Oh.”
Well, I figured I’d make the best of it. We were on a three-race format for the weekend: qualifying session on Saturday AM, race in the afternoon. Sunday morning was a qually race, gridded based on your lap times from the Saturday race, then a Sunday afternoon race. We suited up for qualifying (at least the seat wasn’t soaking wet), drove to the grid, and as we sat there the rain kept coming down. I had made a valiant effort to Rain-X the windshield, but since everything was wet it just didn’t “take”. water was sheeting on the windshield and all I saw were shapes and colors; I couldn’t even really tell when the grid workers raised their hands if we were 5 minutes, 3, 1, or rolling. But the car next to me pulled out – thank goodness it was a bright yellow color – and I duly followed…into an abyss.
I could not see anything out the windshield. Try it sometime: turn off your wipers in your street car, on the highway, in the pouring rain. When we got to the oval I stayed as close to the wall as I dared, hoping I’d be able to sense when it began to turn…I almost missed it. We got to Turn 3 and I almost missed that. I could barely see the black tire wall to tell me where the inside was, and then I flat could not see where to go…and I know this track well! I figured I’d try one more lap to get a banker in but almost crashed twice; I tried to follow a fellow IT7 car after he pulled out of the pits in front of me on that lap, and duly followed him off the track when his car died.
Can’t do this, I’m gonna hurt myself or someone else. I pulled into the pits and parked it after one lap. Qualifying position? Dead last on a grid of something like 30 cars.
I began some basic troubleshooting on the wipers. I suggested maybe it was a bad factory switch, and we could wire it together? Nope, he says, all that’s disconnected as a result of the flood. We pulled the cowl and put 12 V directly to the motor and…nothing. Sparks when we connected it, but the motor didn’t budge. I asked around of the 9 other IT7 cars if they had a spare wiper assembly and every one to a “T” said they did…at home. Closest one 2-hour round trip. I pulled the assembly out to see if it was a rusted linkage — took all of 10 minutes to get it out — removed the motor and put voltage to it…nothing.
As I sat there contemplating my existence while trying to keep from getting rained on, I thought to myself, “what have I got to lose by pulling this thing apart?” so I set to doing exactly that. Pulled the motor apart: brushes look good, but the commutator was all rusted up and one of the magnets had come loose from the case. I found some emery cloth and spent some time cleaning up the commutator, and I JB-Welded the magnet back in the case. With help from others, we carefully re-assembled the whole thing, ensured it was together, and then just for the hell of it put 12V on the thing.
It turned.
The cheer that came up from all of up was magnificent. I put that bad boy back in and Dan wired it up directly to a spare toggle switch in the dash. It worked. Of course, the wiper blades were probably a decade old, but at this point it was a win no matter what (besides, Dick told me the wipers lift off the glass past 70 mph anyway…) I was back in business.
That afternoon’s race was fairly anti-climactic. I was the only one in the group not on rain tires but by then it wasn’t totally POURING, but it was still rain-tire-weather. I did manage to move up the grid a bit, but I was still starting in the 20s position for Sunday. But I’d already had one “win” that day and was content to call the day a success. We tried to hang out for more beer and company, but the wind, cold, and rain was relentless; we called it a night quite early, unfortunately…
Woke up Sunday morning and the first thing I did was pull back the curtains in the hotel room in anticipation…rain. DAMMIT! Grabbed the iPhone and checked the RADAR and it was actually encouraging; looked like we were in the tail end of a line of rain that was working its way out of the area. However, the temperature was 35 degrees (!!!) and it was going to be windy, but if the rain went away the win might help dry it out. So there was still a chance…
Standard coffee and sandwich stop and we hit the track again. All the IT7 guys were there, milling around and murmuring about the weather. “Mr Weatherman, is is gonna rain?” they asked? “Gonna pour, leave your rains on.”
They didn’t believe me.
Besides, the rain had stopped and the skies were actually starting to lighten a tad bit, so it was apparent that we were going to have a “dry” track. Everyone except Dick Patullo (“I’m too lazy, and it’s too cold to hurt my rains”) went through the process of swapping over to dries. I swapped over to my dries too, which coincidentally happened to be my rains (and intermediates). So I spend some time cleaning the windshield, checking the oil and filling the tank, checking my gear, and standing around pretending to not be nervous, given I was about to jump into a very strange-to-me car for the first time in race conditions. From the back.
Soon enough, Group 1 hit (FV/F500) the track and we knew we had about 20 minutes to our 5-minute warning. We all parted to change into our uniforms, and then we all began starting the cars to warm them up. Except me. The car wouldn’t start.
“Did you leave the kill switch on overnight?” Dan asked.
“Yeah, I guess so?”
“Can’t do that. We’ll need to push start you.”
So I jump in the car and a short handful of the other drivers pushed me down the lane and it started soon enough. Got it idling and I slowly worked my way to the grid, taking my place of honor “way over there” near Tail End Charlie (we waved at each other). Sat there on the grid watching the gauges, amazed that this car was showing 150 degrees oil temp in the 35-degree weather, but the water temp had yet ot come off the 100-degree peg…guess that’s normal…? Seemed like freakin’ forever before we got the 5-, 3-, then 1-minute warnings, then I milled out to the track to actually see it for the first time through the windshield (well, except for the school). One thing I immediately noticed is that in my Integra I’ll have to move the steering wheel maybe 45-degrees each way to scrub tires; in this beast it was AT LEAST 135 degrees, maybe even 180! Dan had also removed the brake booster vac line (at my request) to give me a better pedal, and it took some MEAT on that pedal to get those binders working. Regardless, I was ready to go, anticipating getting up to the other IT7 guys in the first lap.
As we slowly drove around the track behind the pace car, I remember how far away the lead car can be in a 30-car field; I was looking out the left side window to be able to see the starter stand, while keeping Steph Funk in front of me out of the corner of my eye. The pole car must have picked up his pace a tad when the pace car peeled off, because I could sense the field picking up speed; I was pretty much nearing full pedal just trying to keep up with the pack, when the green broke; amazingly, most everyone in the first few rows ahead of me were on an accordion decel cycle at that very moment, so I was all “GO, GO, GO!!”
Then the seas parted.
No, really, it was like in that scene in “The Ten Commandments” when Charlton Heston waved his arms and the Red Sea parted and the Israelites went marching through. I looked up, and not only was half the field coming back to me, they had all pulled out of line and I ran right up the middle. I went by 1, 2-3, 4, 5-6 IT7 cars; was that Dan? Drew? Is that Ray? I made a couple jinks between a Miata and something else, and I look up and I’m freakin’ FOURTH OVERALL going into Turn One! What…the…?
Suddenly, I realize: I’m in fourth overall going into T1 in a field of ITA, EP, and FP cars. In a first-gen Mazda RX-7. Hoo, boy.
Ray, I think it was, tried to keep toe-to-toe with me on the outside of the oval, but I had the motivation; we went into T3 and I went outside another car or two. I looked back and I saw ITA cars, EP cars, and I even saw a couple IT7 cars back there a few. Looked up and the leaders were pulling away and keeping well clear of me. OK then, time to party.
At that point I figured those guys would reel me in eventually, so I put my head down and decided to wring that little’s car’s neck and just run my laps. The car drives like a truck but it’s a predictable and consistent truck; the Nitto tires wear like iron but have pretty damn good grip (and don’t have a cliff-like edge when you go too far). I learned pretty quickly what not to do and then just starting clicking off lap after lap. I kept looking back and saw Drew, but he wasn’t gaining on me; it was at that point that I thought, “damn, I might have a chance to win this thing!” and just kept plugging away. Dan – the strongest competition – fell out with a broken exhaust, but everyone else kept going, and when it was all said and done, no one was more surprised than me that I’d just won IT7…how in the hell…?
Of course, there was no end to the grief when I got back into the paddock (after getting a push start out of Impound), but they claimed I was still their friend…but this was just a qualifying race, not the “real” sanction race, and the afternoon race would be gridded based on that morning’s results.
And now I had a target on my back…with a lot of arrows pointed my way.
Next: The Afternoon Race
