But what could we do? We were late getting out of town as it was and had to be in Pittsburgh at 5 for a driver's meeting. After eating and taking note of a scary insect crawling up the rear window of the Aero we hit the road again (which blew the scary bug right off). Traffic was heavy but moving along nicely. We were making good time when suddenly I thought it sounded like the road was kinda rough, even though it looked smooth enough. I check the center rear view mirror to see Mike's face screwed into the same perplexed shape as mine. I guess there really was a strange sound... and for once it wasn't coming from Sam's stomach. Then just as suddenly as it started, it went away. I moved the side mirrors so I could look at the trailer tires but they seemed fine. So I looked back up the road and said "Hmph."
Another 10 miles or so on the road and we get off in Hagerstown to find a tire store. We locate a Kelly Tires shop and buy a set of Regent Sigma? tires in the 195-65-15 size. No, I've never heard of them either but that's all he had in that size and we weren't about to go looking for another tire store. We felt pretty darned lucky to find this one. 1 point 5 hours later and we were spinning the lug wrench to put the new tires on the trailer when my cell phone rings. Guess who? It's Dad calling. "Oh yes, everything's just fine. We'll be back on our way shortly. Yeah, we're in Hagerstown. Yeah, that's not exactly where we expected to be right now either but you know there wasn't a lot we could do about it since the DANG TIRES ON THE TRAILER DELAMINATED!" Dad says... "Really? How 'bout that."
We're almost to Pittsburgh and it is well past 5. So much for that driver's meeting. The puppy is whimpering something about needing to be outside of this car "and soon" so we hop off the PA Turnpike via the world's worst off-ramp. Eastbound and westbound exits ALL have to go through ONE toll booth, even if you have EZ-Pass which I not so very long ago was singing the praises of and explaining how it saves me oh-so-much waiting-in-line type aggravation. After filling up the Aero with premium I go around to the Exxon's bathroom door and slam it right into the shoulder of Sam who in his brilliant doctor way neglected to lock it. "Umph" says Dr. Sam. I find it funny, very funny actually. I bet it was marginally less fun for him since he was at the time gracing the urinal with his "presence." Strange way to hang a bathroom door but I guess they kinda figured most "intelligent" people would lock a bathroom door that opens up onto a busy gas station parking lot?
We arrive in Pittsburgh, register at the hotel and Sam's stomach is making noises again. Apparently it was saying "...need ice cream" as Sam dragged us off to Dave & Andy's ice cream shop for a scoop or two. We had truly arrived in Pittsburgh at that point. It was official.
The Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix is run by the Vintage Sports Car Club of America (VSCCA) in the streets of Pittsburgh's Schenely Park. This is THE vintage street race. This is racing the way it was. We're not talking about normal streets here. This isn't like Champ Car's Detroit race with multi lane, flat and lifeless roads with all the interesting trackside scenery of a highway tunnel. We're talking narrow city park streets with menacing old stone walls, granite curbing, majestic trees, rolling green hillsides and high crowned roads that dive and swerve like some huge snake trying to digest something that was a little too big to swallow and didn't taste all that fantastic either. No catch fencing, gravel traps, or runoff room. No grandstands either. This is free for all to see! No charge! Come one, come all and watch the beautiful cars race through the scenic roads! All proceeds from vendor sales go to charity too.
I've been to this race a dozen times before as a crewmember. But this was my first time as one of the oh-so-elite drivers. I felt very lucky, and not a little bit awed. Like the first time you are invited to sit at the big person's table and they're serving something tricky, like spaghetti. How the heck are you supposed to manage it without sucking and ending up with wet spaghetti slung on your cheek?
In my very limited vintage racecar driver career I've always tried to show a new course a good bit of respect until I get to know it. I mean you can't just run out there and expect to turn a lap record right out of the pits. You have to build up to it. Corner by corner, straight by straight, and braking point by turn-in point by apex and track-out point. So you know... go to first base, then second base, then third. Be careful so you don't get caught out before getting to the big show.
The Quantum was running very well this weekend. For the first time since it was built we were able to run all the way through the revs without the engine breaking up (misfiring) at the high end. To fix this we installed a new high performance ignition coil and made up some new spark plug wires. The power was really smooth and felt quite strong. Some of our cornering vibration problems were fixed when we tightened up on the wheel bearings. The brakes were still giving us problems but I eventually got used to it and forgot about that issue. Zoomy.
All weekend long it ran well. Always started and always finished. Until the final race anyway. You know, the one that counts, the big race, the one I really wanted to finish? Well oh well, that's the way racing goes, especially vintage racing!
So I qualified in 11th place out of 19 cars with a time of 2:33:290. That works out to an average speed of 54.719 mph over the 2.33-mile course. That's very respectable considering the 18 or 21 turns (depending on how you count) and the daunting nature of the course. Not to mention this was my first time here and I was still learning the place!
So that qualified me directly behind the VSCCA's favorite novelist, Burt Levy in a borrowed (natch) Lotus 7 and directly in front of a Cooper T52. Both cars have more power than my steed but I have better tires. On the start they both run away from me up the hill... where power matters most. It's a very tricky start and cars usually get bound up at the first turn and then stretch back out up the hill, like a slinky!
So I have myself some catching-up work to do. Not to worry, I think I can get back by the Cooper and maybe even Levy in the Lotus. I am more comfy in the car now than I was in the qualifying session. Though I've been warned that to be comfy here is not necessarily a good thing. It is much safer to be scared.
The chicane is notorious for being a tight fit. It's put together from a bunch of hay bales and you cannot fit more than one car through there at a time. Single file, just like the lunch line. As we crest the hill the Cooper powers by the Lotus and now I have a new piece of polished aluminum tail to chase. I make up a lot of ground on both of them in the downhill braking zone and the Quantum jogs left and right through the chicane extremely well... just like an autocross!
Accelerate away as hard as I can in 2nd gear, 3rd gear, and reach top gear just before a right hand kink with a nasty bump taken flat out when I hear a "Pop-bang" and see Burt Levy's arm go up and the Lotus slow and pull to the left.... he has a problem! I slow and pull to the right and give him a little wave to thank him for the warning signal. I doubt he saw it but this is gentleman's racing and we are polite about our passing. Thank you very much.
I lost a lot of time to the Cooper with that broken Lotus issue. I can just see him disappear into the woods as I cross the Panther Hollow bridge and burst out into the bright summer sunshine right in front of the biggest crowd of spectators I've seen all weekend! That felt just like being shot out of a cannon in a circus! Not like I've ever actually been shot out of a cannon before, but I imagine that's what it was like. I brake for the 3rd gear right hander and get right back on the gas to rev all the way to redline before the Westinghouse Turn.
The Westinghouse turn is the first hairpin I get to (there are 4). I pull back a lot of ground on the Cooper here in the downhill (again) braking zone, though he pulls most of it back on the acceleration run out towards the tricky and slippy lefty that leads onto my favorite turn of the entire course.
The Longclimbingandnearlyneverendingleft turn is great! I roll into the throttle in third gear until it is all the way at the floor and the engine is absolutely screaming and the car is clawing to the inside curb. Oh it is beautiful! Again, I burst out into sunshine and into the sight of the spectators for another hairpin turn to the right. Big downshift throttle blip with good two-stroke-and-expansion-chamber-exhaust sound (for the benefit of the spectators... RRRRIIINNGG DING DING DING). Toss the car right and (try to) do a power slide out to the opposite curb. SAAB two-stroke POWER, wheee!
Let the car slide out towards the outside edge and press hard up the hill. Simple as that. I can see I am closer to the Cooper now and over the next lap I will catch him and stick my nose in on three turns to try and pass. Each time I decide to wait for a better chance. I'm not likely to catch the next car in front of him so it is fun to stick around and play with the Cooper for a while. It's a good show for the spectators anyway and they're a big part of this race. It wouldn't be nearly as sweet without them.
Then suddenly the car dies. The engine just goes flat and dies. I pull over to the side of the road and try to restart it. Eventually, after spinning the starter for a long time... it fires up! I rev up and take off again. I don't think I even lost a place, such was the gap to the next car behind me. Half a lap later the car dies. Just does it again like the last time... Aaargh! Again I pull off, restart, rev up and drive off. This time I am passed by a couple cars before I get going. It's the red Elva and the Silver Gemini formula juniors. I pull right up behind the Gemini in braking and the corner worker give's the guy a "faster car behind you" flag. The Gemini pulls slightly off line to let me by. I get alongside and am going around him on the outside when the engine coughs, hacks, spits, sputters, wheezes, and dies. Dead. Damn. I hope the spectators couldn't hear what I yelled from inside my helmet. It was rather worse than "damn."
I roll to the offline side of the road right before the entrance to the Serpentine, which just so perfectly happens to be the most populated spectator area of the entire course. Damn damn damn. The starter won't spin the engine now. I've used up the battery (no alternator of course) and there just isn't the juice to play the game again. This sucks. The corner workers tell me to stay in the car while they figure out what to do with me. They chat on the radio while cars whizz past and I sit there baking in the sun in front of everyone. Eventually the corner worker yells at me "Unbuckle, get out of the car and come over the wall to me, NOW!" The least he could have done was say "please" you know?
So there I am, taking off my helmet and gloves. I'm as disappointed as I've ever been. I feel very sorry for the crowd really. I wanted to put on a show for them. I mean, I've got the loudest car in the whole damn race, I should at least let them hear it RUN! Crud. I should have waved at them but I didn't think of it 'cause I was too disappointed for disappointing them. That' how I saw it anyway. That's how it ended for me.
Dr. Sam drove very well in his Daimler SP250 in the over 2 litre group. He had a great time and I was quite proud of his performance. Now he needs some real vintage-race tires for that car. He's severely chunking the tread on those street tires. My dad had a fabulous race in the borrowed Morgan +4. He was followed closely by an Alfa Romeo Veloce Spyder for the entire race. Overall a very successful weekend, I guess.
The trip home was uneventful and long, as well it should be.
-STEFAN Vapaa
VSCCA #374
