They're here!

Today Alan and I did the drive back to Oroville to pick up the cars. Both cars were still there, looking sad, like sibling kittens at an SPCA shelter.

Alan commented that he remembered them looking better during his first visit. Meaning, they sure look like a lot of work. By the time we got them home he was thinking that actually both cars looked pretty good. Maybe we could get a nice auto-cross car out of this, too, along with a LeMons car. I suggested matching LeMons cars, representing the number 3 and 4 ALMS Corvettes. Obviously, once we got them home and unloaded we were feeling a little more optimistic, even if by then Alan was bruised and bleeding.

In Oroville, we changed the flat tires on the '69, using four spare Honda Civic wheels, and winched it onto Alan's trailer. So far so good. The other car, the '71, was already on Jeff's trailer.

Once we got home we realized that the ramps for Jeff's trailer were still back in Oroville. This would be interesting. We unloaded the '69 first, spilling our first Lemons-build blood when the spinning winch handle hit Alan's arm. That will hurt tomorrow. After bandaging him up we pushed the now-evil-and-possibly-homicidal and clearly ungrateful '69 into the carport, then backed Jeff's trailer up to Alan's. Alan's trailer tilted and we shoved it under Jeff' trailer and winched the car (all four tires were flat) onto Alan's trailer. It was too much for the winch strap and it broke, but by then we had the car mostly off  Jeff's trailer. The exhaust tips we digging into his trailer, so I jacked up Alan's and Jeff's son pulled the trailer out from under the car and said good by. We then tipped the trailed and rolled the car down, but with all four tires flat, we managed to only get the rear wheels on the ground. Alan then drove his truck away and pulled the trailer out from under it. That certainly isn't how these things are normally done, but it was done.

The '71 is now sporting Honda Civic wheels and is on dollies and is shoved into what room was left in the carport. Both car's stink, and we're finding nuts and other animal debris in both of them, and a brake caliber on the '71 was bungee cord tied to the upper A-arm, and the '69 is now covered with ants. We must have hauled a nest down from Oroville with the car. Add insect spray to the shopping list.

So far, not too bad. Only one injury, one broken tool, and two cars delivered, all in one day. Tomorrow, 9AM, we assess, then start stripping the interior, and then who knows.

One of us has raced, once.

As noted in an earlier entry, one of us has actually raced, once. Well, that was me, and here is the story, originally posted on the Davis Motorsports forum.

"Well, it's done. Cherry is popped. I'm no longer a racing virgin. And I am still sore. Thanks guys, it was fun.

Seriously, it was fun. More than fun. It's the sort of thing that changes the equation. I just hope I can hang on to my interest in track day/DE/instructoring.

The car was a Mazda 323, I don't know which model year, but it supposedly had 89 hp to get us around the track, presumably provided by the pyramid strapped to the top of the car. It had to be pyramid-powered. The battery was almost as big as the engine. And the car was a bit small for me. It was a bit difficult to get to all the pedals without shortening my legs or growing an extra knee, but I managed to get it to work. Heel-toe turned out to be heel-ankle half the time, but like I said, it worked.

We had four drivers, each driving 2 hour, maybe a little longer, stints. I was third up on Saturday and by then we had two penalties (a contact and an off). Four penalties in a day and you get parked. Lots of teams managed to get three penalties on Saturday. You could tell who they were because they had the "Cone of Shame" attached to the tops of their cars. Many of these so-shamed cars parked themselves voluntarily to prevent picking up a fourth penalty and being sent home. The penalty counter would reset on Sunday, but you still bore your cone, so others would know to stay way clear of you.  Anyway, when my turn came to drive I was told to not get any penalties or we could be doomed. Only half the day was over. Thanks. I had never driven this car and had never raced, and now I had this little extra incentive to take it out on track and hide it behind a hill in the back section for two hours.

Dave giving last minute instructions and
encouragement to our first stint's driver.

So I am out on track now, a track I know very well, and am up to speed in T2, with 3 cars, maybe more, possibly 50, on my tail. Maybe more, because my Defender, a device I had never worn in a car, did not let me move my head much,and the side view mirror was not adjusted for me, and did I mention I had never driven this car? Among the many things to do in lap 1 I was to work through my visibility issues. And as to how many cars were behind me, it didn't matter, I didn't have time to count them. After some time in the car though, this part of driving got better. A few laps later, the caution is out, the field slows, and I get to adjust the side view mirror. Much better. Now my blind spot is only big enough to hide two cars at 8 o'clock.

I'm a few laps into it now, feeling better, and Dave (car owner, team leader) comes on the radio and says, "Nice line over turn 5, but slow." Spirits rise, then fall, then acceptance. Give me time and I'll get 'er going faster. I had already passed a couple of cars so now anything was possible. 

It took me 30-45 minutes before I felt like I was on the attack, feeble as it was, and that attack was directed at the few cars that were slower than ours, or rather, me. But it was fun figuring out the best way to get around someone. Hang back on corner entry and maximize exit speed onto the straights, or just go wide when they took the inside, or visa versa, or maybe even attempt a drag race, with all the 89 hp the pyramid could pump out, or follow the faster cars as they pass a slower one. Too often though, I chose the wrong line, or just got stuck there when my opportunity to pass was crushed by a line of cars going past both of us. Worse even, was when the slow car I got stuck behind came up on an even slower car. Somehow it seemed to remind me of how some people always chose the wrong friends to hang out with.

It was also not as much fun figuring out how to stay out of the way of faster cars, especially at the end of long straights where you know they want to steal the inside. Let 'em have it, but just don't slow down for them. Or, move over early and claim that line for yourself, but sacrifice some speed on entry. Either way, I swear I needed bigger mirrors, and we had one of those big ass NASCAR style mirrors that were as wide as the windshield. My fat head in my fat helmet blocked half the view.

I'm doing well now. My lap times are acceptable, 10 seconds faster than when I started, but still 10s slower than my track day times. I start finding cars to race. Like, for 2, 3, 4 laps straight. Unfortunately, one of these was a minivan. Soccer mom-themed. Mildly humiliating. Maybe a little more than mildly. I remember coming over the hill at T5, which our spot in the paddock afforded a great view of, and thinking how the guys there were probably laughing at me for getting stuck behind a minivan. Later I learned that they were indeed laughing at me for getting stuck behind a minivan. And yet much later I learned that that minivan had been prepared by Edge Motorsports, and lot of people in the paddock, after the race, were complaining how they couldn't get past that damned minivan. I'll bet the minivan team is back home now laughing at all the frustrated people who couldn't get past their soccer-mom minivan.

Through out the day one thought kept popping into my mind, "I can believe I'm doing this to someone else's car."

At some point, about midway through my stint, I ask myself if I am racing yet. I realize I am not. Not really. First, I am still driving in a more polite track day manner. Second, I am driving as if in my 3000+ pound Prelude. So I decide that I need to take every opportunity I find, as soon as it presents itself, if it is safe, to make a pass now, not later, and also to try to create more opportunities, when possible. I also start paying attention to defending my line, and setting up for the next turn well in advance, by choosing the inside line, for example. This part, race craft, would be new terrain for me. Even newer than having all those cars on my tail. The other part, the driving my Prelude part, this little 323 was a great little car, and a momentum car. So I started trying to learn momentum driving, on the job. I quit touching the brakes in T8, barely touched them in T9, etc. For T1, fast and open at the end of the front straight, still had to brake. In addition, while I was already good with all the tire squealing, I decided to step it up a bit more. A little more slipping and sliding would be OK, as long as the car kept going in the right direction. New territory. Much fun.

I finished day one without incident. On day two I took the last stint, having been judged the most consistent driver, and with the silliness that comes with the last stint of an endurance race that would be needed. I still wonder if by "most consistent" Dave meant "not the fastest". Either way, it would be an honor to be able to take the checked flag for the team.

My second stint, I am now an experienced race car driver, with a whole two hours in the car. I'm up to speed and into the game sooner, but damn it, my lap times were consistently slower than Saturday's. We had an iPhone in the car displaying lap times. And it was tweeting my lap times for the team to witness and comment derisively on. But what the hell, I found cars I could pass, and others I had no chance of passing. At least I was keeping up with someone.

It's going well now. I'm getting this passing thing down. On the outside in an off-camber right-hander? Pass that sucker. Approaching T6, get up to his door first and the turn is yours. The car that I thought had pulled along side of me appears in my mirrors again, he backed off. The line is mine again! Closing on me entering T1. I'll take my line thank you. You can wait your turn, or take the long way around. That kind of "going well".

Not that I didn't make my share of mistakes. Side-by-side into T5 (top of a hill, sharp left, 25-30 mph, blind turn), I have the inside and I over cook it, a bit. Well, a bit more than a bit because I am now in his line/lane. Fortunately the other car had a longer distance to cover and by the time I caught it he was right behind me, not beside me. I wave and hopefully he sees that as acknowledging my error. Then in T11, a tighty-lefty that turns up a hill, I had gained on a bright orange '67 Plymouth Fury III coming out of T10 and was along side, then overcooked T11. I could have sworn I had slowed enough to manage keeping to the inside, but physics said no. Lucky again, I guess, or he saw it coming. I knew there was no way he'd be able to out brake and turn me there, but still, it wasn't as pretty as I had hoped. Another, T8, a fast lefty that snags a lot of people, I'll be there at the same time as the Mad Max-themed car, he leaves me room, I brake a bit here where normally I wouldn't, so I can tighten my radius, but it "may not" have been enough because I slide out to within a foot or so of that car. He might have moved over to give me even more room. It would have been a simple door-to-door bump, no one would have gotten messed up by it, but it's not good and with would have sent me to the penalty box.

At about mid way through my stint I managed to catch the 914 that Dave had had fun with in the previous stint. Nice car, and great driving. I wondered if I could do better than Dave with this one. What followed was 4-5 laps of not quite being able to pass it, getting along side on the inside, then the outside, and still not getting it done. My best chances of a pass came after besting his exit speed on T15, followed by the long front straight. Side-by-side most of the way, and he had the inside for T1 and took back the lead. Finally, heading into T14-15, he had the inside, me the outside, braking side-by-side, he turns in and has the lead, I turn in and have more speed, pull along side, we exit T15 side-by-side, I have more momentum, and by the end of the front straight I take the lead into T1. Finally! Well, not finally. A lap later he has the lead again. Eventually we come upon traffic and are separated. After a couple more laps I loose sight of him. Must have pitted, right?

I chased and chased and tried to get by this 914 for
nearly 20 minutes.

Soon after I start having a little trouble with the car. Or the car starts having a little trouble with me. Several times the rear end out tried to come around on my right during braking for T5. Also, I'd get a twitch from the rear when braking for T10, and after T1 I'd hear a noise coming from the right rear. Then I almost lost it coming over T5. I'm sure that while viewed from the paddock those things look a little messy but slow, but they are not slow. It happened so fast, and instincts drove the car for those few seconds, or rather, that 1/4 second in the driver's relativistic time-space continuum. I adjust to not let that happen again, making sure I am straight while braking there, maybe a little less speed for a few laps until I could figure it out.

Ten minutes left in the race, and all is well. Then, the T10 gremlin I had noticed earlier got me. Two cars on my tail and I spin. It was fast. No way I could catch it. Both feet in and I manage to spin in a straight and predictable line and fortunately kept the car to the inside of the turn, then drove off track before another car came by. No contact at all. About 5 cars pass and I am going again, then I overcook T11, or was it that right rear again? I'm on the radio, I'm coming in, possible flat tire. I could hear something rubbing in the right-rear. I was going to get black flagged anyway, for the spin, so I might as well go in now and face the judges and get it over with. That way it might be possible that I could be out on track when the checkered flag dropped.

The pit marshal directs me to the penalty box first. In the penalty box, facing the judges - "What happened?" "I spun in 10. I think I have a problem on my right-rear." "Go on to your pit and get it checked out." No penalty! Merciful judges.

In our pits, nothing is wrong with the car. Translation, the driver is insane. Pressures are OK. Tires look OK. Lug nuts are checked and I am sent back out. Were they lying to me? Was I crazy? Spins do not unnerve me, not that I have a long history of spins. Still, it takes me a couple of laps to get back to normal. I felt fine, but I could swear the car was loose as hell (In a FWD car!) in the high speed T1, for two laps anyway. I lean on it more in T2, then even more in the off-camber T3, and so on, and finally things seem OK to me. I manage a few more passes, then the checkered flag is out. This last statement is an understatement. It felt pretty good.

We finished 18th out of 100+ cars. The goal was to finish in the top 20, so we succeeded. My spin probably cost us a position or two. Or was it Dave's spin on Saturday?

Overall, it was more than fun, and I am sore. It's pretty damned physical, 2 hours straight, which seemed like 10-15 minutes once I was up to full sweat in my fancy new Italian suit, and I felt like I could keep doing it forever, even as my arms and legs and basically all of my moving parts were getting really tired.

Would I do it again? Do you have an open seat?

First Update

We saw the cars on Tuesday. They are up in Oroville, about an hour from Davis. They looked great, and well, horrible at the same time. They were complete, and then some. Twenty years of sitting where ever they were sitting did a job on them. They aren't very rusty at all, but they are full of animal and plant debris, they smell bad, the interior (which we do not need) is rotten, and, well you get the picture. But, they are complete! Also, the motor turns by hand, and the oil on the dipstick looks new, and a quick peek inside the valve cover looks great. The carbs are Webers, which is great, and they are frozen shut, which is even better. No crap in the intake. We feel much better about the motor situation and can't wait to get the cars home to pull the plugs and check them and do a compression test.

We made an offer, it was accepted, and we'll go back on Monday to get them. The parts car will go to Alan's house and the other to mine.

Since Tuesday a lot has happened. Alan pitched a bunch of team names to me, and I pitched a couple back at him, and I even did some focus group testing (two guys), and as of about an hour ago we have our team name.

I visited the Chevy dealer in town this morning and the folks I talked to today were nice, and interested, but not helpful, yet. I was looking for contact info for the Corvette Racing team, and help with the graphics we wanted to put on the car (same as on the real Corvettes). Their parts guy said he'd see about getting us some Corvette badging. Hmm, I wonder if we can fit a Corvette gas cap onto this car. I left them a copy of my 2009 LeMons video (2 DVD set!) and promised to be back soon. I'll ask about the gas cap the next time I drop in.

I posted a request for a big ass wing on the Bay Area Prelude forum and got a number of responses right away. The first asked if I was really going to put it on my Prelude. Hell no! Two others had wings to sell. One is a carbon-fiber wing and I will pick it up in Richmond tomorrow. The guy wanted only $60 for it, but that's still over 10% of our build budget, so I am trying to barter that down with video services. If that fails, I've been offered an aluminum wing. No price yet, and it is in Stockton. So our goal to have a big black wing with an XM logo on it seems to have been met already.

As for decals and such, I contacted a guy, Bob, in Georgia, who does signs and vinyl (He once skinned a Jaguar to make it look like the General Lee!), who I almost did the Fireball Run with two years ago. Back then he offered decal help if I ever needed it, so I renewed ties. He sent me a link to a secret sign-guy site where you can download the logos of many companies. He can use them to make the decals for us, and has offered to do so. He hinted at my well known video abilities, so I'll be doing video for him in exchange. He's doing the Fireball run again this year, so that's probably what the video will be about.

I checked out the site Bob sent me the link to and found nearly everything we needed! Motorola, Mobil 1, GMAC, etc. I didn't find the right Compuware logo but Bob found it for me at another one of his secret sign-guy sites. He's ready to make the decals for us. We don't have the cars yet.

I visited the bone yard in Woodland. No Opels. Well, I wouldn't recognize any Opel except the GT, and I didn't see any GTs, so that's practically the same thing as no Opels. They did have a GT there about 4 years ago. It sat around the yard forever, but it is long gone now. I checked at PicknPull.com but they don't even list Opels. The Opel racing and classics sites I have found will be coming in handy soon, I am sure.

As for painting, we'll roller it. I've received great tips and links showing how to do this cheap and make it look great. All I need is some cheap yellow paint, a roller, sand paper, and some black rattle-can paint for the butt and wheels.

As for where to keep the cars, I live in a duplex and the co-owner, Alan, lives in a nice neighborhood with nice houses and except for his house all have less than nine cars in the carport and garage. I've cleared things with my duplex neighbor, who thinks it will be interesting. I'm not sure what Alan has been able to do at his house to prepare for the arrival of the parts car, but he did say that he and his son Zep need to finish that Firebird-to-Z car engine swap asap so they can get rid of the Firebird shell and make room for the Opel GT.

As for my idea of making a small stage in the front yard and putting the car on it, and working on it there, sort of a public art-in-progress exhibition, I drafted a letter to my neighbors, explaining my plan, how this was not some redneckesque shade tree thing, that it wouldn't smell or be noisy, and that it might be nice to see the transformation of a pale, rusty, blue object of pity into a proud and shiny yellow race car. In other words, don't call the cops on me. I was all about the try it out on the two neighbors who wouldn't immediately gag at the idea, but then, running the whole scenario through my mind again, I realized that prep'ing and painting a car under a sappy tree was not a good idea. So, letter deleted. I'll put the car on dollies and do all the work in the car port. But, in writing that letter I had promised a completion date that was a couple weeks before the August race. Damn, we had better get busy!

Much progress so far, but on top of what Alan and I have managed to get done this week we are also getting a lot of interest and support from people in the Davis Motorsports Club. A potential paying driver, offers to help wrench on the car, advice for the roll cage, and even one guy who will do the logo and other graphics, and the t-shirts, for the team. Not bad.

We're going for it!

We’ve just bought one of these...


... and we want to turn it into one of these...


... and race it in this!


This should be fun, a creative outlet for underemployed gadgeteers, certainly dirty, greasy, and even a little stinky at first, maybe a little dangerous, but above all, inspiring with a hint of frightening, for young and old alike. Isn’t that what life is really all about?

Our goal is to build an ALMS Corvette Racing-themed car, complete with the yellow/black paint scheme, a big ass spoiler and splitter, and authentic decals, or as near as we can get to authentic without getting sued, then race it in the 24 Hours of LeMons races held in California. We’ve got a car, a 1969 Opel GT, a tiny little sports car that stole all the styling cues from a ‘69 Corvette, but somehow managed to miss that critical little 400 hp detail. (We’ll be lucky to see 90 hp.) And we’ve got a parts car. We’ve got some tools and spare time and Clint from Evil Genius Racing will build us a cage. One of us has even raced before. Once. What the hell. Talent and experience are overrated. Insanity is what gets things done.

We don’t really have room for two cars in our driveways so we’re thinking of building a platform in my front yard, decorating it with sponsor’s graphics, and putting the car there while we work on it. Not your stereotypical shade tree situation. More like a public art-in-progress exhibition. It’ll be a nice neighborhood unity project. Our neighbors could witness the transformation of a hantavirus infested heap into a pretty little parody of a real race car. They could drop by and chat, pick up a flier from the real estate agent’s sign we stole, lend much needed moral support, and help put out the fires. It could inspire a few kids, too. Yea, it’s for the children, in all of us. Besides, Paul Moller started building his first sky car in his front yard and the neighbors loved it. We’re like him.

The 24 Hours of LeMons is a popular and rapidly growing crapcan (cars costing less than $500) racing series that puts on races all over the United States. There is a race running practically every two weeks at major and minor tracks across the country, from Infineon and Thunderhill in the western states to Gingerman Raceway and Carolina Motorsports Park in that other part of the country. There are several races at Thunderhill this season and we want to be at the next one, the Arse-Sweat Apalooza, August 7-8. And maybe the Arse-Freeze Apalooza at Buttonwillow Raceway in December.

So spread the word, help us find parts and stickers and cheap yellow paint, and grab some cookies and a fire extinguisher and come by and watch us work. Oh, and at this point it looks like we have two seats open for the August race. I dare you to sign on as a driver.