Here the Blitzwagen is running fast in the sun, but at start Saturday morning it was gray, cold, and the rain was slacking. There were 104 cars pace-lapping as their transponders were checked and logged. Dr. Steve takes the first driving shift, joining the tail end of the pack, and finally the wet green flag swung. All that gloom was gone within an hour of sunlight on the track The 1303 RSR on the windshield is an inside joke. 1303 is the internal VW designation for the Super Beetle. RSR is the German acronym originally used by Porsche for Rennsport Rennwagen (racing sport race car).
Above: The Blitzwagen has a 2.2 litre engine, 94x79, Scat C95 cam and 1.25 rockers with a dry sump system and dual Kadrons. For Barber, which is a track of uphill and downhill curves, we figured we needed the most power we could get coming out of a corner, and had Jeff Lain at Kaddy Shack make us 33mm venturis, where we might ordinarily use 34's, on the theory the 33mm would give us extra intake velocity without too much reduction in top end. It seemed to have worked.
We are C Class again. The most interesting car to us in the field is a rusty orange 1973 Super Beetle driven by Randy Pobst and team. Pobst is an experienced racer and journalist for Motor Trend. The orange Bug has a transplanted 3.5 litre Honda J35 V6 engine producing 264 horsepower and 311 lb-ft of torque.
The rear weight of the V6 and its power makes the orange Bug ride nose-up under acceleration and front wheels-up under full throttle. The guy actually could have used wheelie bars. The orange Bug is fast but hard to handle, and as the race continued, had to refuel more frequently than us and was having far more problems than us.
Because the Camaro logged 270 laps to our 223 because we retired Sunday morning, RetroRacing was forced to take possession of our private trophy, the "You Talk S**t Better Than You Race" award. BeatRetro has held it for the last two years.
Above; left to right Jamrod, Hawk (sitting) and David.
The Saturday hours pass without event for us. Dr Steve hands the wheel on to Jamie, and Jamie to Hawk, then Hawk to David. Our team has developed into good, disciplined drivers over the years. Only endurance racing can give you enough seat time to evolve. Jamrod thinks of himself as slow and safe. He is in fact steady and methodical. Hawk has tamed down his aggressiveness and over the past few races, really began letting the car communicate with him. Dr. Steve is fast and smooth, focused, a real asset to a team effort. Then we have David. He is our fastest, still a little ragged when he's pushing it hard, but a genuine natural.
In fact, the Blitzwagen was soon running like a train, stopping only for five gallons of fuel every hour and a half during the driver change. We have a lean-pop from the exhaust every now and then, but attributed it to leaks in the header slip joints.
Six hours later, we have one unexpected pit stop. David starts getting oil warning light flashes. We have a oil pressure gauge, but its sending wire has loosened and grounded. He comes in, and I pull the 3-gallon dry sump tank dipstick. We need three gallons of oil! I quickly add it, Rotella diesel, and we are back in the race. The car is not obviously leaking oil, and we're not smoking, so where did the oil go?
Saturday racing is now down to the last half hour, we are leading C Class, and our first glitch appeared. Jamrod was running the last stint when the engine began missing. He kept making laps until the car's power was seriously dropping off before bringing it in.
David quickly discovered the trouble. The ignition points were losing adjustment (Yes, we still run points and a simple Bosch 009 distributor) due to a lack of distributor cam grease. The actual Bosch grease is back at the shop, so David readjusts the gap and improvises with a tiny dab of molybdenum disulfide CV joint lube.
As he was doing that, we found the source of the oil leak when retightening the oil pressure gauge wire connector. The sensor itself was slightly loose. We had been losing oil in such a path it did not hit the headers, and we hadn't been stopping for anything but fuel and driver's changes. Jamrod takes the blame, saying "Those tapered threads worry me. I never know how much to tighten them."
The day's racing quickly ended while the Blitzwagen was still in our paddock. We had came in as 1st in class, but the position laps were so competitive the 15 minutes we lost knocked us out of first.
Above: The Blitzwagen sports the RetroRacing logo on the back of its Gurney flap, and another inside joke, MADE IN HUEYTOWN. At Brumos Porsche, back in the 1970's, we stuck MADE IN JACKSONVILLE decals on the rear bumpers of our 934 and 935's, in defiance of the factory's teutonic rule over us, dictating how we should set up the cars. We made our own adjustments quietly, and won the championships. The factory never figured it out.
Saturday Night
While Dr. Steve, aka “Slick”(but today Oriental master racer Ho Lee Chit if his headband is any indication) mixes gallons of hard liquor and peppermint candy to give away and try and intoxicate the other teams so they cannot race tomorrow, David, Jamrod, and myself work on the car.
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, don't get involved in land wars in Asia, and don't ever take free alcohol from a calculating MD. Hint: If the moonshine in the hot peppermint smoothie didn't get you, the morning after “free” hangover pills were the ultimate sucker punch. Most drivers thought they were anti-hangover pills.
As we check the car over, I find and correct a Kadron setup error. There is a 150 main jet in the right hand carb instead of the 160 there should be. My fault. That explained the lean pops we were getting earlier. We do a #4 and #2 plug check, but stop there and in doing so, do not detect the serious #1 and #3 plug fouling the misadjusted points had induced.
The temperature drops to 28° F (F is for freezing), and it rains hard, flooding Barber's tiered paddocks most of the night. Everybody in our camp is inside a closed tent or RV but me. I'm on a cot covered with a poncho under the 10x10 sheltering the Blitzwagen. I'm trying to set a hardcore example for the crew but in this weather, nobody cares. I am just wet and cold. No fun in this anymore. I used to be tough.
Sunday Morning
LeMons has a special tactic for Sunday mornings. The cars are released early to race for an hour, then recalled to the paddocks for a “quiet hour.” No engines running. This is supposed to keep the local church-goers from storming the track security fences, enraged at our desecrating of the Sabbath. It has worked so far. Plus, Mr. Barber's menacing giant Spyder, sculptures of jungle creatures in odd places, and at least one nearly ten-foot dragonfly replica keeps them spooked
In the quiet hour, we quickly install fresh NGK plugs to kill the left-over missing from yesterday. We are not concerned about being bumped off 1st. We have all day to make it up, and slap down the same teams again.
David takes the Blitzwagen out, stinger roaring. He is thrilled with how well the engine is running, how well the car is handling. He can pass groups of cars at will. He keeps his foot in it for an hour.
Then something broke. David lost all power, but the engine was running, as if a CV joint had let go. He gets towed in. We see the Blitzwagen coming in on the hook and our hearts sink. Jamrod runs a jack under the car, lifts it, and there is no CV joint damage, but we see the problem immediately. We have spun the splined left rear axle inside the softer cast iron rotor hub.
This is exactly what happened to us at CMP in May 2015. Same side even. We see victory vanish like a wraith. These is no joy in Muddville. Mighty Casey has struck out.
One sweet grape among the sour. Nothing personal, but we beat the orange V6 Bug. We made 223 laps in 10 hours and fifteen minutes. The V6 Bug took 14 hours and 27 minutes to finish 212 laps.
Winner, Class A. 1993 Mercedes 300E.
Winner, Class B Toyota. 1987 Toyota Corolla FX-16
Winner, Class C 1964 Pontiac Banshee
