Paul Foster writes...
>From what I remember the first two days were raining and very
>windy but the second two days were fair and actually quite nice >so I
didn't have that excuse, although I actually prefer the
>wet because it is a great equalizer.
I remember '89. This was back when age limits were a lot more liberal. At
least as they explained it back then, since I was driving a Lotus 7A, this
counted as "Kid in a Go-Kart," so they let me compete in A Prepared Ladies,
even though I was only about 12 years old.
Two years prior to that, I was the youngest Solo II champ in history,
winning APL when I was 10 years old. Of course, I was the only entrant in
the class, which made it easy.
At the age of 12, I was taller, giving me better leverage to reach the
pedals in the trusty family 7A.
I also wanted desparately to prove that my first win was no fluke. In '88,
there were some car problems, and I was fortunate enough to get a ride in
another car, but I finished last. Of course, there were some nice grown ups
there to remind me, "Don't think of it as finishing last. You were THIRD!"
In '89, there were five whole competitors in APL. I wanted to finally win
one, before turning 13. I put a lot of pressure on myself. Autocrossing for
me wasn't that much fun back then.
What I remember most was how it rained straight for two days. I was so
envious of the Lotus Europa drivers, because they had rooves. I sat in Li'l
Stroker, as my dad pulled this blue tarp over the car, the closest thing to
a roof. I remember no one talking, just hiding in the shelters of their
cars, trying to stay warm.
After Day 1, I was in third, and Jenny Rogers, the defending national champ,
was in 4th. I had never driven in the rain before, and in a 1000 pound car,
I'm sure you can imagine that finding traction was a bit difficult.
What I admired so much about Jenny Rogers was that even though she was so
way out of it after the first day, in her mind she was still trying to
figure out how she was going to win. "Tomorrow, kid, me and you, we're one
and two," she said later that day.
I didn't really see how this was possible, but I decided to follow her lead.
We had nothing to lose. I had nothing to lose, anyway. After this one, it
would be all over. I would be an old woman. I'd never have the chance to win
as a kid again.
It came down to the third runs. What I decided to do was pretend it was dry.
Much to my surprise, it was all working splendidly. Within each turn, I
found I could drive harder and harder. I knew that this run was so much
better than my other two.
My confidence was building so rapidly that by the time I reached that final
turn on my dad's north-course, I had completely forgotten that it was
pouring rain. This forgetfulness proved to be fatal. I needed to brake
before that last turn, to bring the front nose down a little bit, to
maintain some assemblance of car control. Instead, I did what my dad said I
usually did. I engaged in something called "too much trailing throttle over
steer," a habit I can't quite escape. I spun out, right BEFORE the timing
lights.
In my child-like mind, I KNEW that this was the winning run. A very small
number of very nice people who were actually watching, maybe to make me feel
better, maybe because it was true, said that it looked like a fast run, like
this one could have been "it." Anyway, who cares. I knew it. I just sat in
the car, and started balling. Hey, I was only 12.
I slowly putted off the course. Jenny Rogers figured it out and won. I think
she won like five times in a row or something. I ended up third, again.
Well, the part I'll never forget were all the smiles from people laughing.
Katie spun AGAIN. Ha ha ha. They just didn't get that this was the WORST
spin of my life. I don't think they realized that this time, seriously, for
once, that was a GOOD run. I think people pretty much viewed me as this kid
in John and Pat's car, nothing more than trophy fodder. Maybe. How I
perceived the world, I can now see, wasn't always reality based.
Nonetheless, those were my views at that time, and very much real to me.
Anyway, Stacy Reitmeir of all people, Stacy Reitmeir had seen the whole
thing. Or was she Stacy Lynd then? She came running up to the car to lend a
shoulder to cry on, and to share some encouraging words. "Hey, I've been
there," she said. "You'll come back from this." I felt kind of silly,
choking on the tears, with snot running down my face, but I'll never forget
this hope giving gesture. Stacy Reitmeir later went on to be one of the most
successful Solo II drivers, in my opinion, breaking new ground by not only
running in the Open class, but daring to try to win the whole thing,
inspiring so many of us to do the same. So, this is a memory that means a
lot to me.
And then my dad came over, didn't say a word. He just came over and hugged
me, as we stood in the rain.
All in all, it was a good year.
I'm so glad I'm not 12 years old anymore.
Katie K.
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