Topic: Souther Discomfort Race Report: Holy Shit we Won
(Thanks for pictures Jalopnik and somebody else on these forums)
I woke up, thinking I was having a nightmare of flying to yet another Lemons race, to fix cars, watch other cars race, and maybe get some track time in, with not real hopes of winning. As my eyes opened, I realized I was indeed on a plane, and headed to yet another Lemons race. At least I packed rum. Stupid dry county, anyway.
I arrive at the track in time to see the green flag wave, as our first driver (Matt) already circulating on the track. I'm on deck, the team manager (Rob) already stressed with our new expensive radios' unwillingness to work. The white reflective tape and orange towel it is for communication.
Two hours goes by, most of it trying to tell our driver to speed up, as we were getting lapped by the leading cars like no other. We were out of fuel, and we needed time to be made up to get back in contention, and I was on deck.
The car pulls in to the hot pits, we do a 2 minute fuel stop and driver change (pretty good being that the driver can not be in the car while the gas cap is off), and I'm off.
I notice right away the car feels fantastic. Well, it feels like a hollowed out 1985 Saab 900 turbo should feel like, at least. 190hp and 2100lbs on the best tire the treadware rules allow, let us catch up.
Driving around I have a few good laughs from novice drivers, expertly decorated cars, and general hoonage taking place. I am catching and passing cars like they were running under yellow. I am slowly putting laps on the race leaders. I am a driving god. I am 'Hot Shoe.' I get and have the fastest lap of everybody until about an hour left in the day. I am loving life, for this is what I live for... work through the week, play on the weekends. And then I blow a tire. This is after, mind you, I was picking my brake points based on how hard the car was vibrating the holy hell out of my eyeballs, not visually. At least it didn't blow and send us to the dirt, causing a black flag/penalty.
I pull in, we do a driver swap (to Claude Jr) and epic tire change. It only costs us 3 laps. We were going to have the next driver pull in for a fuel stop, but realize we are close enough to the pit window to finish out the day with only one more fuel stop. The organizers extend the day 30 minutes. We beg them not to. They tell us to quit whining and race. We finish the day on fumes, and better yet, leading the race by three laps. Claude Jr. was exhausted, he was in the car for 3.5 hours with very few yellow flags.
The tire I blew was from lack of negative camber, so that night we decide to have dinner, then go back to the track and modify the front left lower control arm to allow for more adjustment. We gain 1.5 degrees, go to test the car, and our friend 'spark' had decided to go home for the night. We spend an hour chasing him down, test the car around the paddock, and go home.
The next morning, I arrive 30 minutes before the race, before 'spark.' With the organizers calling us multiple times to get our asses to pole position, we chase the gremlin down and are three laps late getting to the track. The track doesn't allow any racing between 11:00am and noon, so Sunday schedules two hours in the morning, the hour break, then five hours after noon. That means only one fuel stop during racing for us. We think.
After the first two hours, Matt pulls in we swap the front left tire to the best tire we have left, do some math and realize the fast bastards in the endurance-karting.com Miata are going to catch us and win by seconds. We know we have to pick the pace up. The call for 'Hot Shoe' is in. My turn, this is what I do. Miata, here I come.
My driving is a match for the fast Miata bastards. We have some epic battles, as I have the horsepower to get around other cars, but shitty brakes. The Miata has equal handling, great brakes, but is unable to dispatch lap traffic. I can get ahead, and use other cars as a buffer to "block." In open track I get out-braked and passed. He pulls away, until a yellow flag groups us together. While he is sleeping for the green, I pass him and seven more cars. I laugh my ass off. It took him many laps to catch back up and pass me again, probably the better part of an hour.
Nearing the end of the fuel and two hours and forty five minutes of driving, I realize the rear tires are flat spotting and not feeling just right. With only 20% of the cars weight over the back tires, "who the fuck knows" is an understatement as to what condition the tires may be in. I pull in, we fuel, the car took our whole jug, it has never done that. We make a judgement call to not take the time to top the car off, time that may cost us too much time in the very close race. We swap drivers to Claude Jr and head back out.
At this point, with 2 hours 15 minutes left, the standings show that we were now behind. The Miata was ahead of us and pulling away, but they had a fuel stop and driver change yet, we were set for the duration, provided the car didn't have a secret affair with Murphy. It was going to be close, way too close, and we were in 2nd. We wanted first.
Before Claude Jr went out, we told him to not skid the back tires any more, but haul ass. We didn't tell him I had flat spotted through the nylon cords or that he may or may not have enough fuel. It was going to be close.
The Miata came in for the their scheduled fuel stop and driver change. We were biting our nails and had nearly accepted defeat. Lady Luck ditched them and came over to our side when they were caught passing under yellow and were black flagged, a simple stop and go. We sacrificed an elephant, it worked, and the Miata lost all of their gears except 3rd. They could only keep up, and not pass. They didn't have a prayer of passing and lapping us for their 2 laps back. We were again in the lead and were going to keep it.
All our car had to do now was not fail. Or blow a tire. Or get hit by other cars. Or start on fire. Or run out of gas. Or poison/gas the driver. It didn't. We took the checkered flag on fumes and with a blister on the rear tire through the cords and steal belt.
We won 24 Hours of Lemons.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZsPAz_8 … re=related
The best part is, there is always next time.
