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with questions or comments about this web site.The Mysteries of Oversteer Revealed
Back from a great NJMP Lighting weekend. 2 class wins, won 4 Hoosier tires, led every session but one, set the 944 NASA NE track record, shared the car with my friend Joel and only had to add oil and some power steering fluid. Other than some used up tires, the car went into the trailer as it came out. What’s not to like?
The only niggling thing was the oversteer in the left hand corners. I dropped the car off the next week at Will Pyle’s so I can have a pro take a look. A day later I get The Phone Call that all car guys hate to hear from their mechanics. “You better come down to the shop. You got some major shit going on here”.
Seems when I stuffed the car into the Armco and when Gary W hit me at the Glen the frame rail was cracked at the front. It cracked on the left side by the sway bar mount. When I turned left, the crack would widen, causing the oversteer situation.
The car headed off to the frame doctors for some chiropractic adjustment. Sure they can do it, “no problem, weld it right up, and have it back to you in a day or two.”
Then came The Phone Call. Ah Mr. Brady, we need you to come down to the shop …
Drivers side frame rail, bent, cracked and generally fubar'd
The passenger side was bad too, but instead of cracked, it was broken and driven back into the other frame rail. For them to fix the passenger side frame rail, the water pump had to come off. Otherwise they don’t have enough room to repair the frame rail. It's that yellow thingie in the pic above. Also to come off are the oil filter, sandwich plate, oil pressure switch, power steering pump, etc. Lots of stuff up against that frame rail.
Unfortunately, while the rest of that stuff is fairly easy to remove, pulling the water pump requires removal of everything on the front of the motor to get to it. Timing belts, balance belts, rollers, pulleys, crank pulley, etc. As the AutoExtremist guys would say, a whole bowl of steaming not good.
Back from the body shop – looks like the Battleship New Jersey
So with shuttling the car back and forth from Fairwinds Porsche, the body shop, the removal and installation of all that stuff, I was kept pretty busy non-stop since the NJ race. Combined with late nights in the office, that made for even later nights in the garage. Oh, and did I mention I had the flu during all this. Sheesh, I'm surprised I remember what racing is about.
The next race was Pocono. I was working up to Friday afternoon to finish the car and load it on the trailer for the cruise up to the racetrack. As is my wont, I took the car out for a spin around the development to make sure nothing would fall off before loading it. I made the left out of my driveway, started feeding it some rpms, and
<bwumapsdfshhhh!>
A very not good sound and the motor started running rough. I shut it down immediately and sat there. Just about then Maggie drove up and we towed the car to the top of the driveway and I coasted it down into the garage. Since I had plenty of practice, I popped the belt covers off, pulled the distributor cover and set the motor to TDC. Just as I suspected. My timing belt was now 1 - all important - tooth off from where I set it. Arggggh! More bent valves!
With the Northeast racing championship hanging in the balance I sprang into action: I grabbed a beer, heated up some chicken wings, and started watching a Burn Notice Marathon on TV. Sometimes you gotta know when to fold them.
Later in the week I began the deconstruction as above. Since this is the 4th time I pulled the head just in 2009 I'm pretty good at it. Post mortem analysis (aka guess) is I missed torquing down one of the spring tensioner bolts, causing the timing belt to slip. That's a workable theory considering how tired I was putting it all back together the last time. However some news from the machine shop puts some doubt into whether it was all my fault or not. Tim at Accurate Machine found I had a single lightly bent exhaust valve, everything else was good. But take a look at the intake valve on the left.
Notice anything? Here's a better shot.
The intake valve was starting to fracture and was preparing to self-destruct. That may have been the cause of the bent exhaust value. Perhaps a little tiny chunk came off and jammed. They said I may have saved my motor from a catastrophic failure by shutting it off immediately. Check out the top of the head, you can see where the chucks were peppering the top of the chamber.
So is it my fault? The valve's fault? It's a chicken and an egg question. The important thing is I have the head back (again), ready to put into the car. So I should have it all buttoned up by the weekend. The only thing I need to do to get ready for Lime Rock is to have a new muffler put on to meet sound regulations and I have an appointment with a shop to do that. So I went ahead and signed up for Lime Rock. Even with my motor still in pieces I'm an optimist!
I’m looking forward to going back to Lime Rock. That's where I did my first club race in 2000. Hopefully I'll make the race this time.
Lime Rock – Where I tastefully modify my car
I haven’t been to Lime Rock in at least 5 years, maybe more, never in the 944. Since then, it’s been turned into a Motorsports Club and finally repaved. It’s short, only 1.5 miles, but in a very picturesque setting, nestled in a bowl in the Northwest Connecticut Berkshire Mountains.
I hadn’t planned on going to Lime Rock but after missing Pocono I tumbled in the 944 Cup NE point standings and couldn’t afford to miss many more races if I wanted a chance at the championship.
Since racing is prohibited on Sunday except for a few weekends, racing here is a Friday/Saturday event. Along with this is a sound restriction of 89db, basically what a stock street car makes. I headed up Thursday afternoon with the car all buttoned up in the trailer with its new “Lime Rock” muffler and emergency downspout adapter in case the muffler isn’t enough.
It became obvious that it’s been a few years since I traveled there because I took the wrong exit north of New York and spent an extra 90 minutes traveling parallel to my intended route on little winding 35 mph roads with my trailer. I made to the track just as the sun was setting. I set up camp and headed out to the hotel.
Because the track is now a private motorsports club, the morning session was reserved for club members. NASA got the track from noon to 5 pm. With our normal daily practice/qualify/race sessions, this led to a compressed schedule. If something happened in a session, you didn’t have much time to do anything about it. But nothing was going to happen right?
The first session I was tentative, just remembering my way around – it has been at least 5 years since I’ve been here. Most of the track was as remembered, but the Downhill and especially West Bend have been reconfigured. Larry Dumoff, 944 NE Director, kept telling me I could take the Downhill flat in a 44, but my muscle and 911 memory kept telling me otherwise. Plus the curbs seemed to be about 3 feet high. In the past you could run over them with impunity. Now if you touch them you would be bounced a car length or two. They were deadly.
With the compressed schedule, session 2 was here quickly. This was qualifying for the Friday race. It was time to concentrate and put in a good lap. I went out for the sighting lap, entering the track just before Big Bend (turn 1 & 2). I hit the double-apex and tracked out, swinging back to the right side in preparation for taking the only left hand turn and in a blink of an eye, my hood rises in front of me and smashes into my windshield, fracturing it into a thousand cracks.
Since the hood is now folded over the windshield and roof preventing me from seeing out, I peer through the crack at the bottom and ease the car onto the grass next to the corner worker. I knew immediately what had happened. Hood pins, the f’ing hood pins. Or to be more exact, the absence of the hood pins securing the hood down. Once I get back to the paddock, I’m going to rip a new one in my crew! Oh wait, that’s right, I’m my crew.
So I’m twice screwed. No qualifying time, means I start at the back. That’s if I can race which is not looking too good right now. I’m probably going to have to load it onto the trailer and head home. 2 more DNS (did not starts). If I wasn’t so mad at myself I’d be depressed. Especially since I’m always so careful about putting the pins in and double-checking them every session.
I’ve seen this happen to other racers and I’m paranoid about it. I remember sitting in the car before going out and thinking I should unbuckle and check the pins. But I remembered that I didn’t open the hood since the last session so they are still okay. So much for that bit of memory, maybe it’s time for some Ginkgo Biloba or find me a rocking chair where I can sit in the corner and drool.
Phone calls to all the glass suppliers had the same general result: “We can get you a windshield next Tuesday. That work for you?” Since this was Friday afternoon, by next Tuesday the car will be tucked away in my garage in Pennsylvania, so no, that didn’t work for me.
After my last phone call, I was sitting in the race tower downstairs when Brian Casella came by. Brian’s the son of the NASA NE Region owners Joe & Sue. After asking about my health, he inquired if I was running the car. I explained about not being able to get a new windshield. “No problem” he exclaimed. “I did this myself last year. My dad will let you run with it.” No shit! Since my run group was lining up while we were talking, I sprinted across the paddock to my trailer, threw on my gear and jumped in the car. No time to go ask anybody. I figured if they didn’t want me to go out, they would stop me.
With no lap time from qualifying, I lined up at the back of the grid. As we got the call to head on out, I passed Joe Casella who gave me a thumbs up. Since along with severely cracked windshield, there wasn’t a hood on the car anymore, this was encouraging. Let’s go racing!
To be honest I don’t remember much about that race other than eventually I started to get faster, but still was a slug around the track. I kept on hitting the high curbs and being bounced and I still was braking for the downhill. With no food since breakfast, no water, and overheated by running around in the paddock still in my racesuit, I bonked about ¾ of the way in the race. I was just waiting for it to end. Having a new lap every 64 seconds didn’t help.
Larry Dumoff, who had been leading the race, ran out of gas on the last lap, just before the downhill, costing him the win and valuable points. He made up for it with the win on Saturday. After the checker flag I came into the pits, passing Susan Casella at the exit. Another thumbs ups and smile from her. Later I caught up to them and asked them why they let me run. “We’re here to help racers go racing and have a good time, not to send people home.” Kudos to NASA NE and the Casellas.
Next day, more of the same. I battled Kenny Smith and Vito Valentino, but they got by me. I got faster and stopped braking in the downhill. However, more bad luck was waiting for me. Tracking out on to the front straight from the Downhill turn, I spy the white flag being waved from the tower. “1 Lap to go!” My foot’s to the floor but the revs don’t seem to be climbing anymore. I fiddle some more and then realize the motor is dead.
I cruise by the starter stand at 80 mph with a dead car. At the end of the straight I just continue ahead into the run off area and bring the car to a halt next to the track photographer. As I pull myself from the car, he looks at the cracked windshield, the missing hood and the dead car. “Rough weekend eh?”