jtmcinder
DSM Wiseman
- 5,402
- 96
- Nov 4, 2003
-
Iowa City,
Iowa
The new house is mostly unpacked. The old house is under contract. The kids are in Montessori. My wife owes me a favor. So I went to an autocross in Quad Cities on Sunday, my first since moving from PA to Iowa.
Because it's a small region and they bump classes, it seems there's a tradition here that all SM cars run in SM2. This way there's always at least two competitors in the class. OK, I say, and fill out my card; fine with me. I didn't bring the Rs, since I had no idea how serious people are and I wanted to have a relaxing day with no swapping tires in the morning and afternoon. Problem is, there's a Viper GTS (as in: 10 cyl and supercharged) and he has Pilot Sport Cups.
No matter. This is mid-west, so let's just have some fun. The Viper and I are in the second run group, so we work and sit and wait. It's a hyper-figure-8 course (as in: two cross-overs) with a nasty first corner and a backwards Chicago Box, but then a pure power, testosterone check all the way back from the far end. You do two laps, so it's a 60-second course. Three runs in the morning; two or three more in the afternoon, depending on how things are going.
It's a hard course to see and more than half of the drivers go off course on their first run. I take my first run at a moderate pace, verify what I saw during the walk-through, but also find that both of the critical corner-exits are at exactly the wrong speed: too fast to go back to first, but rather low in second. Putt putt putt.
At this point, my competitive (east coast) juices are starting to flow and all I can think about is how the Viper has something like a gazillion foot-pounds at any RPM and the tires to put a lot of it down. This results in a terrible exit from the Chicago Box on the first lap of my second run. He's in the high 50s and I'm in the low 60s. In other words, I'm getting the crap kicked out of me.
Fortunately, right before the last morning run, I manage to remind myself that the car is no longer a daily driver. And I have AAA. I stutterbox the launch and left-foot-brake for boost in both critical corners. I'm now in the high 50s (albeit more than a second behind), but I've clearly gotten his attention (as well as that of several other people). I get a few thumbs-ups, plus a long horn-blast from the boat on the river next to the lot.
I crank another 1/4-turn on the front shocks, grab a bite to eat, and do my afternoon work. It seems we'll be getting two more runs. As I watch other people drive, I convince myself that I can find most if not all of the 1.5 seconds I need. As long as he stays in the 56 range, I could, therefore, actually catch a Viper. And I have the hammer, too, since he's #74 and I'm my old favorite (hi, Kyle!): #97.
But he goes and does a clean 55 on his first afternoon run. It's demoralizing. It really got in my head and I didn't gain much if anything on my own first run. I'm even back to thinking in terms of excuses: I'm an SM car, not an SM2 car; I'm on streets and he's on Rs. It takes a good 10 minutes of pacing to clear this all away.
His last run is no help (another 56). I see him drive out of grid afterwards and back to the lot. I've been warned that he's known for leaving as quickly as possible and should not be insulted. But, wait! It seems that I really did get his attention, since I see him jogging over to the edge of the course as I line up for my start. I give myself one last (silent) "drive it like you stole it" and squeeze the gas to the stutter-box limit. And it all went well from there. Both exits from the Box were tight. I had 5 or more pounds of boost waiting at both of the critical exits on both laps. I did not lift all the way back and barely stuffed the car through the exit.
A mid-56. A loss. An arse-whooping, in fact. But it felt really good. I went over and shook his hand (as I always do when I'm beaten) and we chatted for a moment. He's a really nice guy. And, in two weeks, he and I will meet again and he can say hello to my set of Hoosiers.
All in good fun, of course. After all, this is the mid-west.
- Jtoby
Because it's a small region and they bump classes, it seems there's a tradition here that all SM cars run in SM2. This way there's always at least two competitors in the class. OK, I say, and fill out my card; fine with me. I didn't bring the Rs, since I had no idea how serious people are and I wanted to have a relaxing day with no swapping tires in the morning and afternoon. Problem is, there's a Viper GTS (as in: 10 cyl and supercharged) and he has Pilot Sport Cups.
No matter. This is mid-west, so let's just have some fun. The Viper and I are in the second run group, so we work and sit and wait. It's a hyper-figure-8 course (as in: two cross-overs) with a nasty first corner and a backwards Chicago Box, but then a pure power, testosterone check all the way back from the far end. You do two laps, so it's a 60-second course. Three runs in the morning; two or three more in the afternoon, depending on how things are going.
It's a hard course to see and more than half of the drivers go off course on their first run. I take my first run at a moderate pace, verify what I saw during the walk-through, but also find that both of the critical corner-exits are at exactly the wrong speed: too fast to go back to first, but rather low in second. Putt putt putt.
At this point, my competitive (east coast) juices are starting to flow and all I can think about is how the Viper has something like a gazillion foot-pounds at any RPM and the tires to put a lot of it down. This results in a terrible exit from the Chicago Box on the first lap of my second run. He's in the high 50s and I'm in the low 60s. In other words, I'm getting the crap kicked out of me.
Fortunately, right before the last morning run, I manage to remind myself that the car is no longer a daily driver. And I have AAA. I stutterbox the launch and left-foot-brake for boost in both critical corners. I'm now in the high 50s (albeit more than a second behind), but I've clearly gotten his attention (as well as that of several other people). I get a few thumbs-ups, plus a long horn-blast from the boat on the river next to the lot.
I crank another 1/4-turn on the front shocks, grab a bite to eat, and do my afternoon work. It seems we'll be getting two more runs. As I watch other people drive, I convince myself that I can find most if not all of the 1.5 seconds I need. As long as he stays in the 56 range, I could, therefore, actually catch a Viper. And I have the hammer, too, since he's #74 and I'm my old favorite (hi, Kyle!): #97.
But he goes and does a clean 55 on his first afternoon run. It's demoralizing. It really got in my head and I didn't gain much if anything on my own first run. I'm even back to thinking in terms of excuses: I'm an SM car, not an SM2 car; I'm on streets and he's on Rs. It takes a good 10 minutes of pacing to clear this all away.
His last run is no help (another 56). I see him drive out of grid afterwards and back to the lot. I've been warned that he's known for leaving as quickly as possible and should not be insulted. But, wait! It seems that I really did get his attention, since I see him jogging over to the edge of the course as I line up for my start. I give myself one last (silent) "drive it like you stole it" and squeeze the gas to the stutter-box limit. And it all went well from there. Both exits from the Box were tight. I had 5 or more pounds of boost waiting at both of the critical exits on both laps. I did not lift all the way back and barely stuffed the car through the exit.
A mid-56. A loss. An arse-whooping, in fact. But it felt really good. I went over and shook his hand (as I always do when I'm beaten) and we chatted for a moment. He's a really nice guy. And, in two weeks, he and I will meet again and he can say hello to my set of Hoosiers.
All in good fun, of course. After all, this is the mid-west.
- Jtoby
