Okay, you axed for it, as they say in Jersey.
The Portland Historics sucked, pretty much. The car was running great, and
I was set to have a good match with a Pooper--we qualified 1-2 with very
similar times. During practice on Sunday I was leading into turn 12 (end
of the back straight at PIR) when I spun in oil. I was sliding backwards
and decided to steer for the infield, just about the same time the Poooper
decided to bail into the infield. We did one of those nasty "same place at
the same time" crunches that happen when you look where you don't want to
be instead of where you need to go.
The Marshall gave me a "warning" because I spun, said it was no big deal
because there would be no follow-up action or repercussions, and then sent
me a letter saying I was on probation. Of course the fact that they had
two reports of oil in the curve and didn't show an oil flag, and I was a
little testy about that had nothing to do with his decision. He gave me a
stunningly lame explanation about why there was no oil flag and why they
let a car obviously spewing an oil fog go for two laps before meatballing
him. Fixing the back end of Peyote cost me about $4K--grumble, grumble.
But everything was all better by the Prehistorics, and I had a great time
playing at Laguna Seca. I have to say that HMSA races seem pretty short on
track time, but that's the way it goes I guess. The Historics are much
worse--you're there for four days and you get three ten-lap sessions.
Wouldn't be worthwhile if it wasn't so darned great in every other way.
What a show.
At the Historics they put Peyote into the Sports Racer under 2500 cc
class, which is some fairly rarefied company. All kinds of really sleek
cars--single seat Porsches, Loti, Lolas, Maseratis and Ferraris. I
qualified about 6th out of 26 cars, and jumped to fifth at the start,
probably because the Birdcage Maser didn't want to trust his cold tires
with his millions worth of car. I pulled out a pretty nice lead and was
looking at the Lola in 4th when the Maser came boiling up and passed me.
So we diced for a few laps with Peyote pretty tight to his tail. Finally I
bobbled one of the turns and he pulled out about five car lengths, which
was a good thing, 'cause when I came off the top of the corkscrew there he
was, spinning right in front of me. I went right, and he spun right, so I
cut left and he spun left. It was starting to look kind of serious when he
finally picked a direction and stuck with it, so I could get by. I figure
if I centerpunched a Birdcage with Peyote they would have frog-marched me
all the way to the California border.
I got away and started running down the Lola again, and got a little too
festive in turn five trying to do all my catching up in a single lap, and
suddenly I was going backwards. A couple of seconds later the Maser showed
up and spun trying to get stopped without hitting me. I got everything
gathered up first, but I decided to wave him on and calm down a bit.
It was a real pleasure seeing Baxter & Linda Culver and Hardy Prentice.
And Greg Solow saved my butt again by coming up with a much needed oil
cooler replacement and a bunch of fittings, hoses and adapters. The funky
non-AN cooler that was on Peyote used some really poor hoses that got
ground through during the Prehistorics. I did a jury rig, but Greg's much
nicer adapter plate and AN hoses and fittings made me secure in the
historics knowing that I wasn't trusting my engine to a hose clamp. This
is getting to be a regular thing, Greg.
Anyway, much fun, finally got up to Napa and bottled all the brandy my
wife bought me a couple of years ago. Rented the world's largest and
stupidest Motorhome. Great time all around.
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