06Feb16; Sat. LeMons Barber. (somewhere in north central Alabama)
We're placed in Class C, which you might think has something to do with engine size or power, but at LeMons has more to do with bribes and favors.
And we have something new to deal with this event. Head and neck restraints have now been mandated by LeMons, and we have a couple of Z-Tech devices for the team. They are uncomfortable and restrictive. Our drivers have already nicknamed them "bondage devices."
Above: Hawkeye in red, Slick in blue. Hawk is wearing a Z-Tech bondage device (tight) even though he isn't driving. When we asked him why, he answered "Don't judge me."
The weather is cold and clear, promising to warm (maybe) midday in the sun. The field is made of about 90 cars. The usual suspects are all here. Hawkeye (who would be notorious in two solar systems if he had a way to get there), Dr. Steve (aka Slick), Jamie (aka Jamrod, dreamer of dreams, loser of tools), and David, who is just a few RPMs short of high speed wobble. Before the race, over hot coffee outside in the thin, freezing morning light, we stress again: "Makes laps. Don't race. The most laps win. Fast laps burn gas and break things."
Above: After having had a car up our butt at 90mph at CMP last year, the Blitzwagen has been extensively
repaired. All that rear plastic is quasi-aerodynamic. We would see almost 100 mph on the back straight on our digital GPS speedometer, and Barber is tough place to hit top end, especially when you have a 3.88 rear end and big 160 series 225 rear tires.
We send Slick out first, in an experiment to see if Hawk's pattern of early-hour crashes is due to green-flag fever. The race begins at 09:34 hrs. Slick proceeds to lap quickly and smoothly in traffic, until about an hour into his first stint the Blitzwagen just stops rolling. He manages to get it to the side of the road, and must be towed in.
Acting quickly, David discovers the brake pedal is partially depressed and stuck. A loose screw had slid under the pedal cluster and jammed the brake pedal lever. So effective were the new Wilwood Dynalite front brakes that they stopped the car even against the engine, and with the Blitzwagen's front brakes locked, the tow truck stretched the front bumper tow hook out straight, dragging the Blitzwagen to the paddock.
As we log laps, one thing is becoming evident. The new engine cage has contributed to vibration stresses in the rear, and we're having things loosen that usually don't, such as the left carb velocity stack screen and it's rubber securing ring.
Above: This rear-view photo of the Blitzwagen shows off the strong cage that now protects the engine.
Once back out again, toward the hour and a half mark, the coil wire to the distributor vibrates out of the coil and Steve is towed in again, many laps lost in the two minor debacles.
Hawk drives a conservative stint without mechanical incident, but gets black flagged for engine smoke -- vibration again. We're losing time on the refuels and driver changes in the paddock as we search for the minor but troublesome oil leaks we finally trace to the oil filter adapter. Tightening up the line couplings and the filter itself only seem to slow it down. David diapers the adapter with a shop rag and tie straps to keep oil mist from blowing back to the exhaust and smoking.
Jamrod goes out but comes back in soon, the red dashboard oil warning light flickering but the gauge reading normally. The locknut on the wire connector had vibrated off. We pirate one from the HSR Ghia and send Jamrod out again.
Above: We brought our Historic Sportscar Racing Ghia to Barber for the Friday test day prior to the race weekend.
We favor the big Solex (Kadrons) single bbl carbs, especially for endurance racing, but decided to test some new, experimental, highly ported manifolds from Kaddie Shack. We've named them our "Daytona manifolds." The idea is to get as much power from them as if we were using Weber 44 IDF's. With 36mm venturis, 44mm throttle bodies, and 160 main jets, the Ghia shot through and around packs of LeMons racers.
Above: The Ghia's engine lid displays Kaddie Shack's logo, and MADE IN HUEYTOWN on the rear of the duck tail. At Brumos Porsche, my racing finishing school in the 1970's, we used to apply MADE IN JACKSONVILLE on the back of our racers, as an inside joke against our Porsche factory managers to remind the world we were not just parts changers.
Our oil temps average about 200° F without the cooler fan on, and when ambient temps were about 50° to 60° F
at midday, oil pressure was a low of 20 psi hot idle. We're still using Shell Rotella T 15w40. Shell assures us it has 1200 ppm of zinc (ZDDP) which is exactly what you need for flat-tappet cams. Just in case, I add a pint of STP and it's ZDDP to our 3-gallon oil tank before each race.
Above: The Barber track is a fast, twisty roller coaster where top end is hard to reach for most cars. The Blitzwagen did 125+ mph at Daytona, but could just barely reach 100 at Barber.
At about 1400 hrs, towards the steep hills of turns 13-14, the huge, rounded, flat-black 1949 Nash was rear-ended at speed by the Grassroots Motorsports Miata, which was then hit by a Porsche 944 and that red-flags the race. No one was seriously hurt, but the Nash was rolled and the Miata had to be carried back on the flatbed.
The LeMons organizers at first blamed the crash on BeatRetro Racing, our paddock partner. The confusion was in LeMons mixing up Cameo number 78 (another car) and BeatRetro's 1978 Camaro. BeatRetro team owner Dale Sale managed to argue the distinction successfully.
When David goes out, we begin to have trouble again with the black flag police. He jumps a yellow, but has a plausible explanation. He thought he could get away with it. They accuse him of aggressive driving in the incident, brake-checking a couple of cars and catching air over the crest of a hill, making other cars dodge. Facing a hostile panel of officials, they demanded to know the number of the car David had hit, which hadn't happened, and most of their case against him collapsed. But when he was chided for aggressive driving, he lost his cool and reminded them; "Dammit This is a race track! I was racing!"
Hawk had to pay a $100 "donation" to keep the team from an hour or more time penalty in the race.
Above: The Camaro and Blitzwagen side by side in the paddock.
Our woes were small compared to BeatRetro Racing. Dale Jr., team driver, went out early in the day and forgot to (1) turn on the radiator cooling fans, and (2) watch his gauges. When the Camaro was towed in, it looked like it was on fire, not just overheated. Everything plastic or rubber melted. Harmonic balancer, oil filter seal, temp sensor plug in the thermostat housing, and starter wiring insulation bloc. Part of the head gaskets disintegrated.
Dale's team worked furiously to get the Camaro back out, but each attempt only revealed the next failure.
Hawkeye begins to see that he might return the infamous "You Talk S**t Better Than You Race" trophy to Dale, which we have held for the past two races.
Mercifully, it is finally 1700 hrs. Winter sunset. The checkered flag snaps in the slanting twilight, ending the first day. Hawk & Slick set up their race party table with Jello shots and martinis, set to the tune of a boom box and 70's music. I drive back to Hueytown to get two rear BFG's 50-series tires to replace the worn-out rear Accelleras. The shoulders are in shreds.
07Feb16; Sun. LeMons Barber. (A whole new day to get it right)
I am slightly late arriving, trying to find an open parts store at 0730 hrs for other supplies prompting both Jamrod and Hawk to call me asking where the hell I was. I told Hawk to put somebody in the car who was not afraid to die and/or had nothing left to live for, and get him out there. Either way, it turned out to be Slick.
The Camaro was back in action, logging laps. We changed the rear tires on Slick's refuel stop and as the hours ticked off, began to cycle through our drivers, refueling, the Blitzwagen running the clock like a freight train, 98-mph down the back straight, as indicated by my cheapie GPS digital speedometer. The racing fates were going easy on us, but were always there. The boss on the Blitzwagen's cast pedal assembly broke, and the accelerator pedal pivot pin wanted out. David had to keep reinstalling it on driver changes. In the meantime, the drivers had to apply part of their concentration to keeping pressure on their right foot heel to keep the pin from popping out.
Our end-game plan was to put Slick out next to last, then Jamrod as last and let him take the flag and get the hero-driver gauntlet beer bath.
The Camaro had to come in for a few short-stay stops, tweaking the overheating fixes, and we got flagged once again because of oil blowing back to the exhaust from the right hand side. We found it. Excess oil had burped up out of the oil tank into the one-pint catch can, over flowed, and pooled on the cabin floor, where it would blow back to the headers though drain holes. We cleaned it up with spray solvent and paper towels.
In the last hour of the race finally came drama. Steve began to hear banging from the engine as he sped around the track. The actual problem was a nut had vibrated off cylinder #2 exhaust flange making a terrible exhaust leak racket. David quickly had the nut replaced and David back out.
Above: Here, Jamrod tops off the 12-gallon SFI-rated fuel cell in the paddock. We burn street premium pump gas at about 10 mpg.
Then, after only one lap, Steve drove it right back in. He was still hearing an engine noise. David pops off both valve covers, watching the valve train operate, then test drives the car up the hill to the higher tiers, under load. He comes back with a death sentence diagnosis. "Rod knocking."
Hawk walks the transponder back to the LeMons office, and Jamrod begins breaking camp. When Hawk returns, he asks "What if I just got in the car and made laps until it quits?" We know we are a few laps ahead of the Camaro, maybe enough to make sure they take the trophy home, but we are not sure. And engine rebuilds after throwing a rod are not cheap.
I know how much Hawk wants to regift the "Talk S**t" award back to BeatRetro. I tell him to go for it. He runs back for the transponder.
He made nine more painful laps before the engine quit. Hawk was towed in minutes before the checkered flag. We actually beat the Camaro by 47 laps, once we had the count. We placed overall in the middle of the field or better. All that was left was the camera phone videoed award by Hawk to Justin (of the BeatRetro team) -- and the champagne.
RetroRacing
2:04 best lap time.
203 laps (we made 111 last year)
59th overall out of 85 cars.
We were beaten in Class C by a 1964 Ford Fairlane. 333 laps. 2:09 best lap. 25th overall. That's humbling, and evidence that logging laps wins enduros.
BeatRetro
1.56 best lap time
156 laps
63rd overall
