An "Oh Sh*t!" Moment . . .
It's Saturday evening at Hallett, and I'm having a beer with Barry, who is in the garage next to the one that I'm using for the weekend. Barry is a rather interesting fellow - an Aussie who has been living in the U.S. for about 17 years, and has been involved in racing for probably over 30 years. In the U.S. he has raced karts, SCCA and NASA, and races an old RX7 at Hallett.
Anyway, after I described watching one of the HST (High Speed Touring) drivers spin off the wet track right in front of me earlier that morning, resulting in a slow roll-over, and complete write-off of the car, our conversation turned to those "Oh Sh*t!" moments in racing.
Barry has probably had his share of those moments over the years, and he passed along a couple of pearls to me regarding self-preservation. First, he told me that he studies the layout and turns of every course he races on, to determine where it is safe to make moves, and where he might get hurt if things go wrong. He always tries to determine where his "out" will be, if he finds himself going off track. He felt it is important to think thru these "what if" scenarios before-hand, since you generally don't have any time to think about it when something unexpected happens.
Then, as I asked about the scenario of coming into a corner too hot, or not having any brakes, he told me the common mistake was to lock up or ride the brakes, as the car plows off course. He told me that if you try to make the turn - let off the brakes and just try to turn the car - that one would be surprised how often that works.
So, the next morning I am running in the HST group behind a newbie in a Boss Mustang that was holding up traffic. In typical muscle car fashion, he was very slow through the corners, but blasting down the straights so that nobody could get by him (he apparently didn't understand the discussion of passing and track etiquette in the driver's briefing). After a few cars ahead of me finally got by him with rather angry gestures from their drivers, it was finally my turn. As he exited T9 and moved over towards the racing line, I quickly moved up even with him; I saw him give me a half-hearted wave-by. Heading towards the carousel T10 at full throttle into 4th gear, he stayed even with me. As we rapidly approached the braking zone I realized that he wasn't going to lift, and now I am way inside the racing line, and deeper into the corner than when I usually start to brake. I had that heart-skipping sensation when you know something bad is about to happen - "Oh Sh*t!" - I'm not going to make the turn, I thought to myself.
Now, I don't know whether it was instinct, or the subconcious recollection of my conversation with Barry the night before, but somehow I willed my foot off the brake, and told myself to turn the car. Amazingly, my lovely little Cayman just seemed to rotate around the center axis (perhaps with the aid of a little unintentional trail-braking), go into a little 4 wheel drift until enough speed scrubbed off that she quickly regained her grip, and headed back down the track for the main straight. Had anyone been watching from the sidelines, they probably wouldn't have even noticed any drama.
I think I owe Barry a few more beers . . .
Anyway, after I described watching one of the HST (High Speed Touring) drivers spin off the wet track right in front of me earlier that morning, resulting in a slow roll-over, and complete write-off of the car, our conversation turned to those "Oh Sh*t!" moments in racing.
Barry has probably had his share of those moments over the years, and he passed along a couple of pearls to me regarding self-preservation. First, he told me that he studies the layout and turns of every course he races on, to determine where it is safe to make moves, and where he might get hurt if things go wrong. He always tries to determine where his "out" will be, if he finds himself going off track. He felt it is important to think thru these "what if" scenarios before-hand, since you generally don't have any time to think about it when something unexpected happens.
Then, as I asked about the scenario of coming into a corner too hot, or not having any brakes, he told me the common mistake was to lock up or ride the brakes, as the car plows off course. He told me that if you try to make the turn - let off the brakes and just try to turn the car - that one would be surprised how often that works.
So, the next morning I am running in the HST group behind a newbie in a Boss Mustang that was holding up traffic. In typical muscle car fashion, he was very slow through the corners, but blasting down the straights so that nobody could get by him (he apparently didn't understand the discussion of passing and track etiquette in the driver's briefing). After a few cars ahead of me finally got by him with rather angry gestures from their drivers, it was finally my turn. As he exited T9 and moved over towards the racing line, I quickly moved up even with him; I saw him give me a half-hearted wave-by. Heading towards the carousel T10 at full throttle into 4th gear, he stayed even with me. As we rapidly approached the braking zone I realized that he wasn't going to lift, and now I am way inside the racing line, and deeper into the corner than when I usually start to brake. I had that heart-skipping sensation when you know something bad is about to happen - "Oh Sh*t!" - I'm not going to make the turn, I thought to myself.
Now, I don't know whether it was instinct, or the subconcious recollection of my conversation with Barry the night before, but somehow I willed my foot off the brake, and told myself to turn the car. Amazingly, my lovely little Cayman just seemed to rotate around the center axis (perhaps with the aid of a little unintentional trail-braking), go into a little 4 wheel drift until enough speed scrubbed off that she quickly regained her grip, and headed back down the track for the main straight. Had anyone been watching from the sidelines, they probably wouldn't have even noticed any drama.
I think I owe Barry a few more beers . . .
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I had a very similar moment in a friend's Ford GT. I over-cooked it on an unfamiliar freeway entrance ramp, that I didn't realize had a decreasing radius. The owner was in the passenger seat. I also managed to keep my foot off the brake, and trusted the suspension and tires. Amazingly, the car held the line. I think that's the most lateral g-force I've ever felt. The owner, completely unfazed by my drving, told me the car could have handled more, so he wasn't worried. No way. I could feel the edge of adhesion in the steering. I got lucky.Posted 03-25-2009 at 03:51 PM by blueone
