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Shift Happens
What is it about Road Atlanta? Yeah, it's a world famous road course, hosting major professional races. Yeah, it has world class facilities, a fast and challenging track with the spincter-tighting downhill drop under the bridge. But I'm talking about me and my car and its relationship to Road Atlanta here.
This is the 3rd year I've started my PCA racing season down at Road Atlanta. And it’s been a struggle every year. I'm not talking about racing on the track, but just getting to the track. In 2001, I could be found the night before leaving, wandering up and down Interstate 95 breaking in my newly rebuilt engine. This after the wintertime 'just a tune up' degenerated into the 'rebuild from hell'.
I didn't fair any better in 2002. At the traditional season opener - Potomac's Driver's Ed in March at Summit Point - my newly rebuilt transmission's main seal vomited itself out onto the track, along with most of the tranny fluid. This cumulated with the tranny rebuild being finished at 1am Friday morning, a long 700 miles from next day's starting grid. Are you starting to see a pattern here? Or at least ominous foreboding?
Enter 2003. Except for some body damage when I was t-boned in the Carolina's enduro, the 911 ended the season in fine shape. Nothing much to do, other than routine maintenance. Which was a good thing, since the average temperature in my garage this winter was around 20 degrees.
The car is prepped and I'm ready for the March Summit Point Drivers Ed. This year I'm trying the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup tires for the first time. My early car can't provide enough camber for Hoosiers. And even though I dropped in size and tried spacers, Hoosiers rub against the bodywork. So the plan was to take a nice easy run at Summit, checking for tire fit, and dialing in the Michelin tire pressures for the race in 2 weeks.
Nice and easy were the operative words here. My mechanic, Harry Hall, last words to me as I headed to the track was: "Don't hurt the car! I don't have time to fix anything." And he wasn't kidding. In his garage were just about every Delaware racers' engines, in various states of disassembly.
The track day was uneventful, the Michelins working great while I fiddled with the pressures. Uneventful, that is, until late in the day. I was cruising on the track, nobody around me, no hurry, not pushing any limits, just enjoying the fine day. Coming out of turn 2 I hit redline at 7k in 3rd, and shifted full throttle into 4th gear. Something I have done hundreds of times over the years at Summit. This time I found 2nd gear instead of 4th.
Zinggggggg!!!!!!!*
* also pronounced KaChing$$$$ with the emphasis on the $$$$
I knew immediately what I had done. It was as if somebody stuck my spinal cord with a large electric needle. At a later estimated 10,300 rpm, my valves had an intimate but highly repetitive encounter with my pistons.
"Maybe I got away with it?"
I said hopefully to myself. I gingerly placed the car into 3rd gear and let out the clutch. The engine bogged down immediately and sounded like it was running on 2 cylinders. I limped back to the pits not looking forward to the call to Harry.
More to come --> At the Track | Qualifying | Race Day
 

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