For those who may be interested………..
This past Saturday was a great day. For me, Saturdays are usually spent doing nothing but catching up on any leftovers at work, mowing the yard (about six acres), doing some weed eating, and working around our eighty-some year old house. There’s always something to do around an eighty year old house.
But not this Saturday. This Saturday my brother and I had an appointment in Atlanta at 1:00 PM for the Buck Baker Driving School. We met at Greensboro airport about 9:00 in the morning, checked the weather, and hopped into the airplane for a flight to the southwest. Another beautiful flight. We had to dodge a few clouds, got rained on just enough to wash the bugs off the front of the airplane, and landed at Tara Field in Georgia about two hours later. Tara Field is located next to the Atlanta Motor Speedway. It’s the airport used by the race teams and fans that fly in on race weekends. We were to hook up with some other pilots and friends for this occasion, so we hung around and waited for their arrival.
After a lunch of barbeque sandwiches and cornbread at the airport we grabbed a courtesy vehicle, and headed on over to the track. One could tell by the banter in the car that everyone was nervous, excited, and maybe a little apprehensive, all at the same time. As we exited the tunnel to the infield the banter stopped dead. I think we were all in awe of what we were about to do. Suddenly we were looking at the five story high, 24 degree banked turns, and I think along with the others, my adrenaline started pumping right then. I couldn’t wait.
We register in the media center for the track, and are directed over to where the driving suits are. There was a girl there that took one look at us and sized us up for a suit. She did pretty good, as no one seemed to have a bad fit. I was worried about that. I am 6’ 4†and 255 pounds, and I really didn’t want to look like any more of a doof than I already do while I am pretending to be a big bad racecar driver.
We sat down for a classroom instructional period that lasted about an hour. One of the driving instructors talked to us about the racing line, the hand signals that the instructors would use while they rode along (it‘s loud in the cars, and there are no radios in the helmets), what the flags meant, and how to pass another car safely. It was a little hard to pay attention, though, with the other instructors outside racing around the track warming up the cars for us. I still couldn’t wait.
Just as our classroom session was coming to an end, a rain shower popped up. It didn’t last long, so while we were waiting for the track to dry, we walked over to the garage area where the cars were. They use older Nextel Cup cars. They looked good. Mean good. They sat down low to the ground. The tires were the Goodyear Eagles. Wide and slick. The spoilers on the rear were about five inches high. The cars still had a few battle scars on them from races past. (And maybe a few from their instructional use). There was the 99 car driven by Carl Edwards, the 18 driven by Bobby Labonte, the 40 car driven by Sterling Marlin, the 8 car driven by Dale Earnhardt, Jr., the 20 car driven by Tony Stewart, the 2 car driven by Rusty Wallace, and the 12 car driven by Ryan Newman. The engines were not Nextel Cup engines, though. The Cup engines produce about 800 to 850 horsepower, but they are not reliable enough to last for much more than 500 miles. So these engines were pulling a little more than 500 horsepower, and were chipped for a 6000 rpm redline. These were capable of around 175 mph. The seats are bolted in, so the cars are set up for peoples different sizes. The 18 and the 99 were set up for taller folks so my brother and I were assigned these. He is 6’ 5†tall and around 250 pounds. I drove the 99.
By now the track was dry and it was time to go. Now I am not making fun, but I’ve got to tell you that while I was waiting my turn, watching the students get in and out of these cars was a riot. As you know, they don’t have doors, so one has to climb in and out of the window opening. There were people going in headfirst. There were people going in butt first and their legs sticking out the window. There were people going in one leg, then the body, and not able to get the other leg in. It was hilarious. I had been in Cup cars before (show cars) so I was able to pull it off pretty good for a man of my size. Whew.
After I was seated and belted in, my instructor climbed in beside me. He instructed me on how to start it, and explained that the clutch was tight so don’t slip it, just let it out and go. I flipped up the ignition switch, held up the starter switch until she fired, put her in first and proceeded to stall it when I let out the clutch. So much for my cool entry. After bringing her to life again, I wasn’t going to let her stall this time, so I hit about 2000 on the tach, dropped the clutch, and did a nice little burnout down pit road. My instructor gave me the thumbs up, and off we went.
Pulling off pit road onto the track you are to stay below the yellow line and in third gear all the way around to the backstretch. This is down on the flat part of the track called the apron. I could tell right away that these cars handled like a dream. Even down on the flat, going around a hundred miles an hour, this car was made to turn left. It felt good. As we entered the backstretch I punched her all the way to the floor, and finally hit fourth gear. My instructor was giving me the slow down hand signal already. He was showing me the racing line that was marked by two dots on the track at the entry and exit of each turn. If I could hit my marks by putting the car between those dots, I could pretty much go as fast as I felt comfortable. After three laps he told me to pull into the pits. I shut her down, and as he was unbuckling, he told me the proper way to pass another car, and I was on my own. Cool beans. Here we go.
The first couple of laps I made alone in the car, I found I was hell on the straights, but pushing it hard through the turns was a little intimidating. I was letting off way too early and too much. I told myself that I didn’t come down there to drive like I do on the interstate, and that Cup drivers at Atlanta are hitting around two hundred miles an hour at the end of the straights. It’s the fastest track on the circuit. I ought to be able to do 175 and make it stick, and still hit my marks. That’s when things started feeling good. On a circle track, the greater the speed you can achieve through the turns, the faster you will go down the straights. I learned to just feather off the throttle and roll into the turn, then halfway through, feather it back to wide open. Now we were getting somewhere. The straights were getting shorter and shorter, and the turns were pulling me down in the seat. I could feel the G’s tugging at my arms and my cheeks. As my ten lap run (we got twenty laps in the program I enrolled in) was coming to an end, I was getting around 5500 rpm’s. That would equate to about 155 to 160 mph and I was still hitting my marks. I felt that by the end of my second ten lap run I would pretty much be able to get all that my car could give me. I was ready, but it was time for someone else to have a turn. I took the checkered flag and wheeled it around to pit road. I shut her down and climbed out, my adrenaline was still pumping.
As we were waiting for our second round, a kid was there doing an advanced class. He drove a car, and an instructor drove another car, and they were on the track tearing it up! These guys were letting it rip. They were running together in the draft, side by side through the turns, mixing it up by taking the high line through the turns, then the low line. I think running inches away from another car at those speeds has got to be getting up there on the sphinctometer. I’ve got to add that to my list of things to do.
My second ten lap run was not to be. The rain showers that had been lingering around the track finally hit us. That was it for the day. So with long faces, we headed back over to the airport for the flight back home. My brother had flown down, so I flew back home. Two hours and a few showers and we were back in Greensboro. The entire trip home was spent wondering how far we could take this. Could we actually some day maybe do some Craftsman truck races? Who knows, but this is as addictive as anything I have ever done.
Yes, what a Saturday! Now which track are we going to for the other ten laps they owe us? And ten won’t be enough.
Lee, aka Hillbilly Lightning………….
This past Saturday was a great day. For me, Saturdays are usually spent doing nothing but catching up on any leftovers at work, mowing the yard (about six acres), doing some weed eating, and working around our eighty-some year old house. There’s always something to do around an eighty year old house.
But not this Saturday. This Saturday my brother and I had an appointment in Atlanta at 1:00 PM for the Buck Baker Driving School. We met at Greensboro airport about 9:00 in the morning, checked the weather, and hopped into the airplane for a flight to the southwest. Another beautiful flight. We had to dodge a few clouds, got rained on just enough to wash the bugs off the front of the airplane, and landed at Tara Field in Georgia about two hours later. Tara Field is located next to the Atlanta Motor Speedway. It’s the airport used by the race teams and fans that fly in on race weekends. We were to hook up with some other pilots and friends for this occasion, so we hung around and waited for their arrival.
After a lunch of barbeque sandwiches and cornbread at the airport we grabbed a courtesy vehicle, and headed on over to the track. One could tell by the banter in the car that everyone was nervous, excited, and maybe a little apprehensive, all at the same time. As we exited the tunnel to the infield the banter stopped dead. I think we were all in awe of what we were about to do. Suddenly we were looking at the five story high, 24 degree banked turns, and I think along with the others, my adrenaline started pumping right then. I couldn’t wait.
We register in the media center for the track, and are directed over to where the driving suits are. There was a girl there that took one look at us and sized us up for a suit. She did pretty good, as no one seemed to have a bad fit. I was worried about that. I am 6’ 4†and 255 pounds, and I really didn’t want to look like any more of a doof than I already do while I am pretending to be a big bad racecar driver.
We sat down for a classroom instructional period that lasted about an hour. One of the driving instructors talked to us about the racing line, the hand signals that the instructors would use while they rode along (it‘s loud in the cars, and there are no radios in the helmets), what the flags meant, and how to pass another car safely. It was a little hard to pay attention, though, with the other instructors outside racing around the track warming up the cars for us. I still couldn’t wait.
Just as our classroom session was coming to an end, a rain shower popped up. It didn’t last long, so while we were waiting for the track to dry, we walked over to the garage area where the cars were. They use older Nextel Cup cars. They looked good. Mean good. They sat down low to the ground. The tires were the Goodyear Eagles. Wide and slick. The spoilers on the rear were about five inches high. The cars still had a few battle scars on them from races past. (And maybe a few from their instructional use). There was the 99 car driven by Carl Edwards, the 18 driven by Bobby Labonte, the 40 car driven by Sterling Marlin, the 8 car driven by Dale Earnhardt, Jr., the 20 car driven by Tony Stewart, the 2 car driven by Rusty Wallace, and the 12 car driven by Ryan Newman. The engines were not Nextel Cup engines, though. The Cup engines produce about 800 to 850 horsepower, but they are not reliable enough to last for much more than 500 miles. So these engines were pulling a little more than 500 horsepower, and were chipped for a 6000 rpm redline. These were capable of around 175 mph. The seats are bolted in, so the cars are set up for peoples different sizes. The 18 and the 99 were set up for taller folks so my brother and I were assigned these. He is 6’ 5†tall and around 250 pounds. I drove the 99.
By now the track was dry and it was time to go. Now I am not making fun, but I’ve got to tell you that while I was waiting my turn, watching the students get in and out of these cars was a riot. As you know, they don’t have doors, so one has to climb in and out of the window opening. There were people going in headfirst. There were people going in butt first and their legs sticking out the window. There were people going in one leg, then the body, and not able to get the other leg in. It was hilarious. I had been in Cup cars before (show cars) so I was able to pull it off pretty good for a man of my size. Whew.
After I was seated and belted in, my instructor climbed in beside me. He instructed me on how to start it, and explained that the clutch was tight so don’t slip it, just let it out and go. I flipped up the ignition switch, held up the starter switch until she fired, put her in first and proceeded to stall it when I let out the clutch. So much for my cool entry. After bringing her to life again, I wasn’t going to let her stall this time, so I hit about 2000 on the tach, dropped the clutch, and did a nice little burnout down pit road. My instructor gave me the thumbs up, and off we went.
Pulling off pit road onto the track you are to stay below the yellow line and in third gear all the way around to the backstretch. This is down on the flat part of the track called the apron. I could tell right away that these cars handled like a dream. Even down on the flat, going around a hundred miles an hour, this car was made to turn left. It felt good. As we entered the backstretch I punched her all the way to the floor, and finally hit fourth gear. My instructor was giving me the slow down hand signal already. He was showing me the racing line that was marked by two dots on the track at the entry and exit of each turn. If I could hit my marks by putting the car between those dots, I could pretty much go as fast as I felt comfortable. After three laps he told me to pull into the pits. I shut her down, and as he was unbuckling, he told me the proper way to pass another car, and I was on my own. Cool beans. Here we go.
The first couple of laps I made alone in the car, I found I was hell on the straights, but pushing it hard through the turns was a little intimidating. I was letting off way too early and too much. I told myself that I didn’t come down there to drive like I do on the interstate, and that Cup drivers at Atlanta are hitting around two hundred miles an hour at the end of the straights. It’s the fastest track on the circuit. I ought to be able to do 175 and make it stick, and still hit my marks. That’s when things started feeling good. On a circle track, the greater the speed you can achieve through the turns, the faster you will go down the straights. I learned to just feather off the throttle and roll into the turn, then halfway through, feather it back to wide open. Now we were getting somewhere. The straights were getting shorter and shorter, and the turns were pulling me down in the seat. I could feel the G’s tugging at my arms and my cheeks. As my ten lap run (we got twenty laps in the program I enrolled in) was coming to an end, I was getting around 5500 rpm’s. That would equate to about 155 to 160 mph and I was still hitting my marks. I felt that by the end of my second ten lap run I would pretty much be able to get all that my car could give me. I was ready, but it was time for someone else to have a turn. I took the checkered flag and wheeled it around to pit road. I shut her down and climbed out, my adrenaline was still pumping.
As we were waiting for our second round, a kid was there doing an advanced class. He drove a car, and an instructor drove another car, and they were on the track tearing it up! These guys were letting it rip. They were running together in the draft, side by side through the turns, mixing it up by taking the high line through the turns, then the low line. I think running inches away from another car at those speeds has got to be getting up there on the sphinctometer. I’ve got to add that to my list of things to do.
My second ten lap run was not to be. The rain showers that had been lingering around the track finally hit us. That was it for the day. So with long faces, we headed back over to the airport for the flight back home. My brother had flown down, so I flew back home. Two hours and a few showers and we were back in Greensboro. The entire trip home was spent wondering how far we could take this. Could we actually some day maybe do some Craftsman truck races? Who knows, but this is as addictive as anything I have ever done.
Yes, what a Saturday! Now which track are we going to for the other ten laps they owe us? And ten won’t be enough.
Lee, aka Hillbilly Lightning………….
