Archive for Dent Devil

Supercars for the Proletariat

When I was in my early 20’s I benefited from some advice that was passed to me, as it had been passed to him, by a fellow that I thought had led a pretty interesting life given his relatively young age.  It was “there are two leisure classes, one at the top of the socio-economic scale and one at the bottom.  Be in one of them”.  My friends name was “Minki” and this is my mission.

I moved to Hood River mostly so that I could live my daily life in the same way that many wealthy working people live their vacations.  Understand, I very much admire the accomplishments of those that dream up and produce the things we often take for granted.  I want their holidays to be as fabulous as possible – they’ve earned it. And, they should be fresh when they return to work so they can make more neat stuff for the rest of us .  When possible, I enjoy my chance join in their fun.

I fell in love with great cars the day my uncle Don showed up at our house with one of the very first Porsche 911’s – I was 5 years old.  He let me drive it during my visit to Southern California to see the 1978 US Grand Prix at Long Beach when I was 17.  At that time it was one of the greatest days of my life.  The current Porsche Turbo (supercar) is still based on the same basic configuration.

I saw my first Ferrari Daytona(s) scattered all around the parking areas that week at Long Beach – like Priuses at a Greenpeace rally.  The Daytona was the last front engine Ferrari at the beginning of the modern “supercar” era – in my view, the Daytona was a supercar.  Oh, for a chance to ride in a Ferrari Daytona…

Recently I did some dent work on a very nice 1999 Mazda Miata.  When I was finished the owner asked if I would be interested in having a look at some dings on his Aston Martin V8 Vantage…   I’ll always have a look, especially as the V8 is considered to be the grandfather of British supercars.  This is, for all practical purposes, the same car that 007 drove in the 80’s Bond film “The Living Daylights”, and clearly a very close relative of 007’s car (a DBS) in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”.  I mean, Diana Rigg (the only Mrs. Bond AND Emma Peel) rode in that car – sweet…

Diana Rigg as Emma Peel

Diana Rigg as Emma Peel

I could go on and on about Diana Rigg, as it could be argued that 60’s spy film actresses are the genesis of what we now refer to as a “supermodel” – alluring, self reliant, a little bit vulnerable, and with a sting in the tail (so to speak). Staying with the “super” theme – she set the standard.

Anyway, It was an interesting experience working on the Vantage because it is hand fabricated from “aluminium”, done in the old style of coach building (heat and english wheel).  The thickness and strength of the panels

Aston Martin V8 Vantage

Aston Martin V8 Vantage

varies throughout the vehicle (even adjacent areas of the same part).  We had some success (the owner helped with dismantling trim, etc.), and I got to spend some time learning (stumbling about ) an interesting piece of automotive history. 

So now about  Tuesday and the inspiration for this story.   I was working at the Pro Drive racing school and one of my two students had brought his new Ferrari 430 Scuderia.  Normally, I prefer students with more “regular” cars.  The problem is that highly strung, big horsepower machines are difficult to drive well – and I, despite my time spent as a Pro-Rally co-driver, sometimes get car sick.  But, I was feeling pretty good and I thought this would be a good tune-up in preparation for the upcoming race weekend – get me “in the game”, so to speak.  And, how often do you see one the truly great modern supercars?  I should probably ride around in it for a while…

The driver, Rich, was a serious student, which is a dream come true for an in-car instructor at a high performance driving school. 

Scuderia in PIR Hot Pits

Scuderia in PIR Hot Pits

What I mean is that he came with the intent of leaving with something and had decided the way to do that was to listen and do (not as common as you would think).  Listen and do is what a Rally driver does –  pace notes are delivered and regardless of what the “common sense’ side of the brain tells him, he does what he is told.  This is how to go fast.

And things happen pretty darn fast in the Scuderia (0-60 in 3.1 seconds, as a reference point) – it’s easy to not get it right.  Now, everybody doesn’t teach the same way and I’ve been having a discussion about this with one of my co-driver / instructor friends.  The short version is that I like to pick only two major things to concentrate on for each session.  Some instructors want to make sure that every corner is negotiated “on-line” from the start, for example.  I like simple, achievable, objective targets.

Positive input is the key to success – don’t tell me what not to do, tell me what to do.  This is why the “listen and do” bit is so important – it’s simple.  Invariably, if I feed information (as pace notes) to a student and they simply do what I ask, the car stays on line, the driver gains confidence, the throttle pedal goes down earlier, stays on longer and we go fast.  Of course, faster cars require more precisely delivered information, which is why I usually prefer students in the Subaru’s and Toyota’s…

Tuesday was a great day because I had two willing students that each got into a rhythm and allowed me to help them learn to go fast.  I love that.  In particular, the sounds coming from that Ferrari were fabulous.

By the end of the day I was hearing the popping (a la F1) sound during the 60 millisecond downshifts and whooping from Rich as he pinned the throttle on the blind curved “back straight” for the first time!!!  What a fun day.

In line with the advice I had received 25 years ago, I have once again successfully experienced that which is usually reserved for a privileged few.  Minki was right – a poor boy can have the good things in life.

Cascade Stage Race

Late Thursday afternoon, shortly after arriving in Bend,  the team I was guest riding with received a phone call informing them that one of their riding friends, Daryl Benefiel, had been killed by a car while doing hill repeats on Newport Coast in Orange County.  Daryl was one of the good guys.  RIP, Papa John’s.

Some don’t see us, some don’t care.  Be vigilant. 

 

Well, from a racing standpoint, this was also a pretty tough weekend.  I knew ahead of time that it was going to be  hard, but some things changed after I had entered to complicate things a bit.

The original (sensible) plan was to race with my brother-in-law, Joe Kolling, and his Cycles Veloce / Simple Green team mates in the mixed Cat 3 /4 field.  I now ride (and race) with all of these guys 30 – 40 days each winter.   I was really looking forward to riding with them near home, for a change.  Joe and I are both 4’s and Steve Bernede and Russ Shapley are both 3’s – so we could race as a team.  It was a great idea until the organizers of the race decided that they would split our race into separate  Cat 3 and Cat 4 fields.  We were also joined by a friend of a friend, Steve Pascoe.  Since we already had a Steve, we called him Arkansas – because that’s where he’s from…   Could have been worse, I reckon – he could have been from Sioux Falls.

Against my better judgement, Joe talked me into calling Chad Sperry, the Race Director, to have him switch us all to the Masters 35+ / 45+ field so that we could “race” together.  Chad told me the split had been made partly because the Cat 3 guys didn’t want to race with those crappy Cat 4 guys.  Just an observation, having now been briefly to the other side – most of you Cat 3 guys ain’t shit…  The rest of you need to move on.

As bike racing is a long term project for me – it’s all about lots of miles and experience at this point.  So, I had to look at the less than ideal situation I was facing and treat it as one of those experiences – one that would make me stronger on another day sometime in the future…  Some guys are still very, very fast as they get “old”, but I’m still mostly just old.  My job was first to finish, and second to see how small an amount of time I could loose.  …this is going to suck.

The Race:

The first stage was a 71 mile road race that started with a potentially problematic 3 mile climb and ended with roughly 25 miles of climbs connected by shallow grades and finishing at Mt. Bachelor Ski Area.  I came off when the final climbing started – and when I say “came off” I mean that I freaking blew up!!!  I made it, though, and afterward experienced my first ice bath.  You really should try the ice bath – pain has a whole new meaning for me now.  If it had been government sponsored it would be classified as torture and there would be Senate Hearings, and everybody could point fingers.  Heads would roll, sort of…  Bike racing as we know it would end.

Anyway, I survived the time trial by riding very slowly while not thinking too much about that afternoon’s criterium.  Afterward, instead of an ice bath (which I believe helped, by the way), we drove the Stage 4 (Sunday) circuit race course.  Well, at least the severity of the course would take my mind off of the criterium.   …this is going to suck.

We were informed before the criterium started that there was a problem with scoring, and that to keep things fair to the GC contenders the crit would not count.  Really?  It didn’t make any difference to me, but for God’s sake, we came to race.  Well, it turned out that nobody was dissuaded too much.  The speed of the race (until my brilliantly timed attacked off the back) never fell below a 30 mph average…  That’s just a wee bit too quick for me – wish I was racing with the 3’s…  But hey, I’ve still got all my skin.  I hate crits.

The circuit race had the potential to be absolutely brutal – rolling with some short power climbs.  It is an attacking course, and it would start early.  I figured that there would be a fair number of retirements and that if I could finish (not a slam dunk at this point), I would move up in the GC.  My plan was to ride with the peloton until the pace required more than 30 seconds effort above my lactic threshold (about 20 minutes it turns out), at which time I would try to find a group to finish the race with.

I came off at the end of the sustained climb that contained the feed zone – attack!!!  Yup, 10 miles into a 67 mile race and I was going solo.  As it happened, however, I wasn’t the first guy out, and the group was shattering in front of me, as well.  I quickly became one of a dozen riders that was moving along quite nicely.

There were six ahead of us which added some motivation to include them in our fun.  As we gathered them up, I saw Arkansas.  We had made an agreement to have our own little group ride when the inevitable happened – I thanked him for waiting for me. 

Then I noticed Steve and Joe – this wasn’t a group ride anymore, it was a team ride…  Surely, we could have some fun with 4 guys in a group of 20.

I knew that Steve and Joe would attack on the final very steep (16-20 percent) climb about 5 K from the finish – that’s just the way they are.  Joe, however,  had been hit by a car while riding near home a few weeks ago and his knee had been giving him some grief.  That all came to a head when it was time to go – he had only one leg to work with.   Steve, as predicted, jumped off the front followed by two others.  I chased, and the four of us blasted into the rollers that preceded the run to the finish.  We were joined by three others as the final attacks started.

Steve was first to finish, beating two others in a final sprint.  A few seconds back, I was out sprinted by one of the three I had lead to the line.  I had finished, though, which I wasn’t sure would be possible as the day started.

I’ll go back to where I belong (with the Cat 4’s) and continue to work toward a triumphant return – imagine a PT boat leaving Corregidor with a bicycle strapped to the bow…