Season Finale

The folks at Porsche are a bright bunch. A couple of years back they effectively invented a race series call the Porsche SuperCup and then, conveniently, produced a car to race in the series. I suspect the sequence of events was reversed, but either way the series took off all over the world and resulted in the the Porsche Cup cars being the most successful race cars ever produced.

A Porsche Cup car is a formidable piece of kit. Its based on the 997 version of the ageless Porsche 911. It has a 450HP engine, racing suspension, stripped out interior and high tech aero kit. And it's seriously fast, lapping around 1:16's at Killarney. And you can buy then race ready from Porsche.

The Bigfoot boys in their Cup cars

Thus, it was a source of considerable surprise to me when I managed to catch up to one during qualifying for our final race meeting of the season. 

The howling South Easter of the preceding week had died down to a whisper leaving us with  a perfect summers day in Cape Town. Despite the absence of a number of usual drivers, we still had a grid of twenty six cars. Unfortunately, Hennie, my main Class D rival, was away leaving just myself and newcomer, Rob, to play in Class D for the day. Craig was also away, contesting the Bulawayo 3 hour race up in Zimbabwe. You can read about his attempts to restyle his car during the race here. The Harper continent was thus made up of myself, Ant and Steve, so still a fairly good showing for Team Harper. Haydn was also present for the day, now sporting a shiny new Black Top motor in his red Harper, but he had been invited to race with the Fine Cars for the last race of the season.

But back to qualifying. I was again trying my new tactic of going out mid field for qualifying. This had worked well for me last time out, but sadly this time proved to be a bit of a lemon. I managed two clear-ish laps and was just about to get down to action when I caught the Porsche going into Turn 5. He was going so slowly through the corner, for a Porsche that is,  that I fully expected him to pull into the pits. But, no, as soon as the corner straightened, a puff of smoke heralded six injectors dumping av gas into the flat six motor and the Porsche rapidly shrank ahead of me. I was a little bemused, especially when I caught him again in Turn 2. After a lap of this yoyo activity I figured the Porsche was either suffering from some mechanical ailment that in no way impeded its straight line speed, or the driver was new to the car. I realised I would need to pass him if I was to have any hope of a decent qualifying time. This was not to be however, as by now the front runners where starting to lap us and the prospect of passing a sickly, fast moving Porsche while being passed by a not so sickly even faster moving Porsche did not full me with delight. I called it quits and headed into the pits after posting a very pedestrian 1:31, which incidentally was on my warmup lap!

It was an omen of things to come.

The pit area was abuzz with chatter as drivers calculated theoretical results based on placings. The points for the season count both towards the classes as well as an overall championship. To win the championship you do not have to have the fastest car, in fact all you need is a decent number of cars in your class and consistent results near the top. I had come third last year, but this year was a way off down in 7th. Other drivers were much closer to the top, and with the last race of the day carrying double points, many of the categories were as yet undecided. 

Eventually, with the bacon and egg roll and coffee done and dusted it was time to race. I remembered to attach, and switch on, my camera for a change so headed to the holding area for the start.

With our warm up and line up sequence completed the race began in ernest. The aforementioned Porsche was behind me and I had Rob in his Lotus 7 ahead. All I needed to do was keep the Porsche behind me and deal with Rob and anyone else I could in front of me. However, the best-laid plans of mice and men and all that .. While I was doing my usual first lap faffing about (I really need to focus on this next year!), the Porsche snuck past in Turn 3. Well, this could effectively chuck a nice size 19 spanner into any challenge I would have with Rob. I would need to pass this beast, and fast, if I were to have any chance of taking a win in Class D.

This would prove easier said than done. The Porsche was certainly having no issues with straight line speed. I suspected it might be the driver that was having the issues so set about trying to force an error. I could catch up around the rear of the circuit and under braking into Turn 5. I tried my best to poke my nose in everywhere I could. The idea was to fill his mirrors up with black Harper and be ready to pounce if he ran wide somewhere. He was having none of that though and we tussled for the entire race like this. I must admit, it was actually quite fun. Eventually, on the last lap, the leaders caught us coming out of Turn 1. This was my chance, all I had to do was duck in behind them and follow them through. Except for a small flaw in my plan. It was the Juno and the Mallock, two of the fastest cars in the race. I came out of Turn 1 on full throttle, but they caught and passed the Porsche before he even reached Turn 2, a distance of some 100m or so. He had plenty of time to close the door behind them. Anyway, I was now close on his tail and decided to throw a bit of caution to the wind for Turn 3. It was not needed though as the Porsche ran slightly wide into Turn 3 and I grabbed the opportunity with both hands and foot flat. Its not the best place to pass a faster car since they can usually stroll past you again on the back straight. However, I had a plan. I was going to drift across the straight making it difficult to pass. This seemed to work a treat and I was very happy to see the chequered flag at the end of the main straight. I had beaten a Porsche Cup car! How cool was that.

In the after race paddock I went over the chat to the Porsche driver. We shook hands and I thanked him for the dice. "Sorry to hold you up" he said "but may car has only got two working gears, its a bit of a challenge getting out of corners". He smiled, I smiled. Mine was a little fake I suspect. Great, I had just had my ass handed to me by a Porsche with only a third of working gearbox. Fantastic. I slunk back to my car.

Race two was a repeat of race one, except for the fact that I did not manage to pass the Porsche this time. Still, once I managed to put the whole broken gearbox thing out of my mind and just enjoy the dice, I actually had quite a good time. It was a good change to practice race craft, something I am sorely lacking. They say, when you start racing, it takes you a year to figure out you can't drive, then a year to learn how to drive and, finally, a year to learn how to race. Since this was only my second year I figured I still had a bit of time to learn to race. 

In the end, it was a great day. I had a two fantastic races with a Porsche Cup car and, although by default, came second in Class D. This secured me the overall win for Class D for the year and left me 7th in the championship. 

More to the point though, I had competed in every race day and only failed to finish one race due to my broken gear shift cable. The Type 6 prototype had taken everything I had thrown at it  and just smiled. We had driven on the hottest recorded track to date in Feb, we had driven in the rain, we had driven almost 1000km to PE, raced, and driven back. I had changed the oil once and Craig had replaced the suspension bushes. This and the occasional wash was pretty much the only maintenance I had done on the car the entire season. 

Of course, this could mean one of two things. Either the car is exceptionally well designed and built, or I am not racing it hard enough. I think it's a combination of both. The car is exceptional, but I am always cognisant of the fact that I need to drive it home afterwards. I suspect this does temper my racing aspirations slightly.

Still, it is a testimony to the design. Racing is probably the hardest thing a car can be subjected too and will quickly bring out any flaws or weaknesses.

So that was the 2012 racing season with Sports & GT's. A fun time was had by all, except maybe Paul who set fire to his GT40, other than that we have had a great season with consistently big fields of cars and some good, clean, close racing.

On to 2013 then. I'm not planning on doing anything new to the car at this point. There is still much untapped potential and most of it is being held up by the driver's lack of skill at this point. I might look at retrofitting the larger 17" wheels the two new Type 6's are being build to take. This could help to tame the rampant rear end and could assist in getting out of corners quicker, but again, there is something to be said for getting the best out of what you have before making changes.

But we will have to wait and see what comes of the near year.

Starting slow

I'm a slow starter. Its just one of those things. When I rode my mountain bike semi seriously it would take a good 10km for the various body parts to give up complaining and start working together for the greater good. This trend seems to have followed me to motor racing as well! I was hoping it would not, but there you have it.

Of course, over a five hour bike race, there is quite a bit of opportunity to make up for a slow start. In a 12 minute sprint race, not so much. The good news is that, unlike in mountain biking, its probably something I can fix fairly easily since its mostly a mind thing. 

So why am I telling you all this? Well, because it was made abundantly clear to me during the race day this past weekend.

We had finally rotated to the top of the program again which put us first up for qualifying at 8am and had our races at a decent 10am and 2pm. Much better timing now that it was fully summer and the sun was getting up early again.

I caught up with Ant at the set of traffic lights just before the track where he was causing some traffic chaos owing to a blown fuse. He seemed to have things in hand so I headed on and parked up in my pit. I collected my paperwork and headed off to scrutineer. By the time I got back to the pits Ant had arrived and was busy tracing the source of his blown fuse. By now qualifying was rapidly approaching so we all suited up and rumbled off to the holding grid.

I was trying a new tactic for qualifying. I usually start as close to the back as I can owing to my aforementioned slow starting. This time I was going to try starting a little higher up the order and was determined to throw the preverbal caution to the wind. I figured its far better to spin off during qualifying than during the race itself. The plan of starting higher up the field was to try and get a few more clean laps in before the front of the field arrived on the scene and messed things up. 

The whistle blew and we were waved onto the track. It was fairly cold still, but I did a bit of tyre warming for half a lap and then set to things. My plan seemed to work as I managed around six clean laps and second on the grid in class D. I was pipped to pole by Paul in the R8 who was showing a slightly indecent turn of speed for the day. It was a sign of things to come for Paul as he seems to be getting issues on the R8 slowly sorted.

Ant also managed to score a decent qualifying time, but then Ant is a pro at getting out of the blocks at a full sprint.

Ant in action. Photo curtesy of Dieter

We now only had a couple of hours to wait before our first race so we headed to the club house for the ritual breakfast roll and coffee.

Soon it was race time and we dutifully lined up on the holding grid. We had 19 cars racing with only two Harpers and three members of class D in attendance. Craig was getting ready to head off up North and race in Zimbabwe while Haydn was still finalising his new engine after letting all the smoke out of his old one. Class D comprised myself, Hennie in his every trusty Lotus 7 and Paul in the fabulous R8. Sadly Alan, in the only other Harper, had done his gearbox in during qualifying so was forced to sit the first race out while his crew frantically dismembered his car.

We finally rolled up to the start and, as usual, by the time we arrived on the main straight the field was in full flight. My grid placing put me on the outside going into turn 1. I had Hennie on the inside just behind me and Paul up front.

Which brings me neatly to the issue of starting slowly. Hennie does not have this problem at all and neatly slotted his Lotus between me and the inside of turn 1. I was then further distracted by Cyril in his Porsche, who had qualified badly, and was behind us again. His car has considerably more urge than ours and he was elbowing he way between us going into turn 2. I don't care much for his colour scheme and did not really want any of it on my car so I gave him some room. By the time the frenzied activity of the first two corners was over Hennie, Paul and Ant where some way up the track. Eventually, after around 5 laps, I was starting to get my times down into the early 25's and had halted the rampantly widening gap between myself and the rest of class D. I then slowly managed to start reducing the gap, helped in no small way by the fact that Ant and Hennie were locked in battle. Paul and the R8 were nowhere to be seen. 

The race ended with Ant taking Hennie and me not quite getting close enough to be anything of a challenge. Paul's R8 turbo's had clearly enjoyed the cooler air, with him posting a handful of 23's that effectively shoved him into class C for the next race day. He would, however, finish the day with us in class D leaving Hennie and I to fight for the lesser placings. Round one was to Hennie then.

Our next race was scheduled for 2pm so it was time for an early lunch. Around this time Paul of the burning GT40 fame arrived and we chatted about his resurrection plans. He is pretty much totally rebuilding his GT40 and, while everything is in bits, he's making a few changes. He was a bit cagey about the changes, but assured us he would be ready for next season. We are all looking forward to the reappearance of the grand old lady of racing. The car that is, not Paul.

We spent lunch having a fascinating chat with Gunther from G&A Promotions (local supplier of all things racing). He has just finished building a V8 Masters car and gave us some interesting insight into these amazing one make machines designed by the late Owen Ashley.

A V8 Masters car

I wandered back to the pits and had a stern chat with myself about getting going from the word go. No more Mr Nice Guy or waiting for "things to settle down". It was time for a little more gung and a little less ho(hum). I had draw pole for race 2 and really needed to make the most of this little gift.

However, turn 2 was a case of serious deja vu as both Paul and Hennie strolled past me on the inside. I was so busy cursing and swearing into my helmet that I failed to notice the large black Corvette driven by new comer to Sports & GT, Hennie Bosman, starting to fill up my mirrors. It was clearly the jolt I needed. There's nothing like a big black car bearing down on one to focus the mind. In no time I was clocking early 25's and was right on the tail of Hennie's Lotus. Something that surprised him almost as much as me, considering my previous results. I briefly mused on being the filling to a Hennie sandwich before setting about rear of the Lotus in all ernest. Hennie is a seasoned campaigner and can really pilot his car. It's amazing how wide he can make a little Lotus 7 appear to be! He is quicker than me on the twisty bits, but I have the edge on the straights. My grunt advantage is somewhat offset by Hennie's ability to brake virtually as he starts turning in. Eventually, however, I was placed close enough to take him down the main straight. He slowly wandered across the track leisurely taking the racing line. I ducked left and passed him on the inside then, remembering Craig's advice of making the other driver work for his place, cut across onto the racing line for turn 1. We swung though turn 1 and blasted up to turn 2 where I took my usual line. Needless to say Hennie simply ducked inside me and took the corner. It was the second time at the same corner in the same race that I was cursing and swearing into my helmet, but mental notes were been made.

I managed to mostly stick with him all the way around the back of the circuit and coming out of turn 5 I was ready for his cross circuit amble. I held left and, as soon as there was enough space, blasted past retaking the racing line for turn 1 as before. Again we slithered through turn 1, but this time I dived right into the middle of turn 2 and slowed up enough to keep control. Hennie had no choice, but to follow me though. The rest of the race was rapidly consumed by determined attacks from Hennie and equally determined defences from myself. It was all out racing.

By the time the chequered flag fell I was breathing hard and sweating a lot more than the mildly warm day demanded. Round two was to me! Hennie pulled up next to me as we coasted to park ferme and gave me the thumbs up. It was by far the best race I had been involved in to date. Its a real pleasure to race with somebody like Hennie who races hard, but clean. 

Final results had Paul, in his last outing with us class D mortals, taking first while Hennie took second and myself third overall. We now have one more race day left this season, the last race of which counts for double points. With only 12 points separating the two of us, this season is going down to the wire! Slow starting is not going to be an option.

Personally, I would not have it any other way!

Half mast

It was a rare morning. The birds were out singing instead of draining their wellies. The sun was up and the day was warming. This made a nice change from the previous four race meetings. I relished the concept of driving to the track in a cap and sun glasses instead of a full face helmet and oil skins. Summer was finally making a long awaited return and with it came the kind of weather our open top sports car were made for. 

We were racing late, with the program putting qualifying at 9:45, race one at 1pm and race two at 5pm. This posed a bit of a challenge for me as I was attending the Louis Giglio Passion concert back in the City and needed to be there around 6pm. It was a quick decision, I decided to skip the second race of the day. This meant I would have to pack all my day's racing fun into qualifying and the first race. 

Getting cozy with the outer reaches of turn 3
Photo courtesy of Dieter Dolinsheck 

We were also a little down on numbers in Harper World with Craig doing some changes to his car following fuelling problems uncovered in PE, Alan still down after overheating his car in PE and Haydn opting out for the day. This left just myself and Ant to fly the Harper flag. Ant had destroyed his clutch in PE and had only just managed to finish the repairs to his car in time. He now boasted a heavy duty clutch and was rearing to go as always. Class D was going to be contended by myself, the ever faithful Hennie in the super quick Lotus 7 and occasional entrant William Carter in his LS1 powered red Porsche 944. We were also being joined by the stunning Audi R8 replica built by Paul Beachy Head. This twin turbo Audi V8 powered monster should really be much closer to the sharp end of the racing, but reliability issues have kept Paul in our play pen. We were happy to have him as it is always a pleasure to race with a beautiful car. I fear once he sorts out all the niggles we will scarcely see his flaming tailpipes as he disappears into the distance.

Since the start was late, my Saturday morning was fairly leisurely. I eventually packed all my clobber into the car around 8am and headed to the track. Traffic was predictably light for that time of the morning in Cape Town and the drive was stunning. I pulled into my pit and was delighted to see Paul and his grand 5.7l GT40 back again. He had last raced in June and was itching to stretch the legs of his stunning machine.

Ant was already in attendance and we headed off to scrutineer and complete the paperwork for the day. When we returned we saw Craig and Roger had arrived to spectate, effectively doubling the number of Harpers in the pit. It was a pity they were not racing, but Roger still has a few official hoops to jump through before he got his race license. Hopefully he will be joining us for the next race. We chatted cars for a while and then headed to the coffee barrow for a morning caffeine fix before qualifying. 

Finally our session was called and we lined up in the holding area according to our usual "gentlemen's agreement" of fast cars first. However, as the cars ahead of us started pulling out a Porsche near the front stalled and battled to get going again. Eventually he was push started and blasted off out the pit lane. This whole process probably only took 45 seconds or so, but would turn out to have a significant impact on the qualifying session. 

I had not ventured out in the car since our epic trip back from PE so started a little gingerly, getting to grips with the car, cold tyres and a circuit I had last driven on some months earlier. I was still busy warming up my tyres when I almost clipped Steve as he shot past in his Mallock. Owing to the delay in the pits with the recalcitrant Porsche we were now already being lapped by the couple of fast cars that had managed to get away. I was following Paul in the GT40 when, going into turn 1, he had the mother of all front lockups and produced a smoke screen more suited to maritime warfare than track racing. While I was marvelling at the spectacle, the Juno, piloted by Francis, skipped past me and speared into the cloud of smoke. Some folk are pretty brave. While this was all very exciting, it did not bode well for a good qualifying time. However, by lap two I was ready to haul the old hammer out and, coming onto the back straight, I focused in and started my hot lap.

Thus, it was a source of considerable annoyance when I arrived at turn 1 seconds later to find it festooned by yellow flags and two stricken cars. Steve had clearly caught Arno unawares as well and the two had come together in the corner. This unfortunate event lead to the session being red flagged with me completing a whole three laps and clocking a paltry 1:32 qualifying time. Thankfully most folks suffered the same effect, but the eventual grid order had me bone last in Class D. Given I was only contesting the one race for the day and was currently leading the Class D battle, I had it all to do. Nothing short of a class win would keep me in the running with a scant two outings left for the year. This was clearly something that could only be tackled after the ritual egg and bacon roll, so we all wandered off to the club house to pass the time and harden our arteries.

Time passed swiftly as we watched the Clubmans and Fine Cars ply their respective wares around the circuit. Clubmans was an especially entertaining race with a mix of super fast BMW's up front and a very competitive clutch of VW Golfs making up big chunk of the remaining field. If you want real close, hair of the teeth style racing it would seem you need to be driving a Golf. How these guys don't roll their cars into little balls more often can only be a testimony to their skill.

Then it was our turn to try and excite the crowds. Our end of the field, otherwise known as the back, was a collection of Class C and Class D machinery. I had William in the red 944 next to Ant ahead of me and Paul in the very large black GT40 next to me. Hennie and the other Paul in the R8 were a little way further up ahead of Ant and William. As we rounded turn 5 and headed onto the main straight for the rolling start I was determined not to miss any opportunity that might present itself. I glued myself to the back of the red 944 and gently squeezed the GT40 out of turn 1. A slight fly in the proverbial ointment was Cyril in his GT3. Cyril had failed to qualify and, as are the rules, had to start behind the last car in his class. He was in Class C which meant he was behind Paul's GT40, and thus, behind me. He's usually a lot quicker than us so started making his way through the "traffic". I considered making him work for his position, but then decided to rather let him go and focus on the rest of the Class D folk.   He was not as quick in passing as I hoped and my decision lost me a fair bit of time as I left him space. Eventually, coming out of turn 4 he slipped past on the inside and ambled off up the back straight. I set my sights on the the 944 which had by this time built up a decent gap. My V8 urge ensured that by the end of the back straight I had caught up to both Porsches as Cyril tried in vain to pass the 944 into turn 5.

Entering the main straight William pulled left to let Cyril pass and I caught a whiff of blood. I tucked in on Cyril's line and kept William on the left. This posed a problem for him as he was now off the racing line and he proved this by locking up his fronts going into turn 1. We rounded turn 1 very close and he exited slightly ahead to the left. I take turn 1 in fourth gear which means I don't have to change gears again until I hit the back straight, such is the torque of the V8. William clearly does not have the same mixture of torque and gear ratios and I watched his car pause briefly as he snatched another gear. It was all I needed as I stormed past hard on the throttle. Next up was Ant who was some way ahead, not really Class D, but always fun to dice with. There were still two Class D cars ahead as well, but races are done one position at a time. I was chipping away at Ant's lead when going into turn 5 we caught and passed Hennie with ease. He actually waved us past. Score on my side, but sad that he was out. We would later discover he had broken his gear shift. 

Duking it out with Ant in turn 3
Photo courtesy of Dieter Dolinsheck

By now I was right behind Ant and, coming out of turn 5, he expertly squeezed me towards the pit wall as he took the racing line. I was expecting this so ducked left and unwrapped a fresh bag of torque. Turbo or not, there is no substitute for cubic inches. I scampered past and retook the racing line for turn 1. Things got a little hairy then as I was going a little quicker than usual. There was a whole lot of teenage style backchat from the rear of the car, but I managed to grimly hang on and made it around the corner still pointing forward. A happy by product of my wobbly rear end was that Ant decided to give me a little room in case things got out of hand and we ended up as a Harper T-bone. I knew I was now in for a titanic battle since Ant is not one to take a pass lying down. My mirrors were full of orange and blue, but sadly, as we slithered through turn 4 Ant suddenly shrunk into the distance, the unfortunate victim of a misfire.  

As the excitement died down I realised that I had only one Class D car ahead of me. It was Paul in the R8 and I could see him in the distance. It was game time so I lowered the cross hairs once more. It turned out not to be necessary since I quickly caught him and he waved me past in turn 5 suffering again from some mechanical niggle. 

In the end, what had appeared to be a daunting task, had been fairly easy and through no skill of my own. Mechanicals had stripped the front of Class D leaving me the class winner of the first heat. A bit disappointing as I was hoping to have more of a fight, but a result is a result at the end of the day and I took it with both hands.

Thus ended my days racing, so I packed my goodies into the car, bid the folks farewell and headed home.

It was, however, not the end of the drama for the day. I was not there to see things unfold, but during the second race Paul's GT40 developed a fuel leak. In discussions afterwards he said the car had seemed down on power on the back straight and he had decided to pull into the pits to check things out. Sadly as he slowed into the pit lane the rear of the car burst into flames. He managed to unclip and roll out in time, but the car was practically destroyed before his eyes. 

Remains of a once magnificent GT40

This was indeed a chilling reminder of how dangerous this sport of ours can be. Thankfully Paul was unharmed and I am happy to report that he will be rebuilding his fine beast.

Still, it gave many a moment of pause and thought. Adrenalin sports definitely give you that feeling of being "alive", but its good to be reminded every now and then that, just like a tame lion can live for ages with it's trainer only to one day snack him for lunch, so too your sport needs to be treated with the respect it deserves.

In for the long haul

One thousand, eight hundred and ninety seven kilometres. That's a long way. Even in a nice comfy car with aircon and leather seats.

In an open top race car, with unpadded carbon fibre seats, its feels a lot further. 

This is how it started.

Back in the garage again, trip counter showing total distance.

Our regional away race was scheduled for PE this year. Aldo Scribante is a great little track. Its a mere 2.4km long and has a short main straight, but you are never bored driving Aldo. Its a constant string of tight corners, dips and hidden apexes. It's hard work, but get it all right and its the most rewarding track I have ever driven. Of course, get it wrong and ..well...you get the picture. 

General consensus is that you should be lapping around 10 seconds off your Killarney time. This has the Porsche GT3's lapping at 1:06's and should have me doing 1:15's. I had done a 1:15 last year in my Lotus so set myself a lofty target of 1:12. As I have mentioned before, goals are a good thing.

We were entered and accommodation was booked when Craig suggested we should drive our cars up. He had driven up the previous year with James (the chap I bought my Lotus 7 from, and yes, James had driven up in the self same Lotus - mad bugger!).

The thought was certainly appealing. I mean, how many folks could say they had driven their race car almost eight hundred kilometres, raced it and then driven it back again. It took me a split second to decide. I was in too.

However, as I sat in my car on a dark and dreary Thursday morning, the spots of rain appearing on my visor, I was questioning my impulsiveness and sanity in general. It was cold, wet and I had never driven my car more than 150km in one go. Anyway, Craig was on his way to the rendezvous point already so there was not option but to dive into the dark deep end head first. I mean, how hard could it be?

I headed off up the highway in the semi dark and drizzle bound for the N2 One Stop to meet up with Craig. Traffic was expectedly light for 6:30 in the morning and very soon I pulled up next to Craig who had just filled up. We chatted for a moment, then buckled up and hit the road. We were schedule to meet up with our support team (my folks) just over Sir Lowry's pass so needed to press on. On the way up the pass we were treated to the most magnificent  rainbow arching across False Bay. Once over the pass the weather cleared and the sun broke though warm and welcoming. We would have a few different thoughts about the sun on the return trip, but more of that later.

A few minutes later we pulled up next to the folks and transferred some of our excess baggage across to their car. We discussed our re-fueling stops for a bit and then settled in for the long drive to the Mossel Bay fuel stop. Craig had a fairly good idea regarding the fuel consumption of his car, but I had absolutely no idea of mine. My car had never actually been filled to the brim and pretty much all the driving it had done to-date was at race pace, not really a benchmark for consumption. Anyway, Mossel Bay was around 300km down the drag and I figured my 57 litre tank should get me that far, at least I hoped as much.

Shortly after we set off again I realised that I would need to change my visor as the sun was now out in full force. We pulled over at a picnic spot and Craig immediately leapt from his car and bounded into the bushes. Good timing then I figured.

A wee break and visor change

Time passed fairly quickly after that with me trying in vain to maintain the national speed limit and get my left foot comfortable. The car has no foot rest for the clutch foot since you generally are using the clutch in race conditions and, besides, there is no space for one anyway. This requires a bit of fiddling to get ones left foot nicely wedged and comfortable without either resting on the clutch or brakes. After a while I got it right and settled down to enjoy the drive.

The car is remarkably comfortable. The Tillet seats are exceptionally well designed and created no pressure spots, even though they have no padding at all. The V8 has so much torque that I might as well have been driving an automatic. It cruises at 130km/h doing a hair under 3000rpm and any overtaking manoeuvre simply requires a little squeeze of the loud pedal. Under these conditions the throttle is barely cracked open. Still the fuel gauge was dropping at an alarming rate. 

We were scheduled to make a late breakfast stop at the Blue Crane just outside Heidelberg where we enjoyed a great old farm-style breakfast. We check both car's vitals and everything seemed to be in order so we hit the road again. Next stop was our first refuelling at Mossel Bay.

Resting in the shade at the Blue Crane

Some time later we pulled into the One Stop at Mossel Bay and filled the tanks. Craig had been buzzing along doing almost double my revs for the same speed, but much to our surprise, both cars took exactly 38 litres of fuel. This equated to around 10litres/100km. We were well chuffed. This also proved that my fuel gauge calibration was a little off. I had never really spent much time calibrating it and had simply used a straight line curve to convert the resistance value of the pickup to a voltage for the DASH2 display. This of course assumes the tank is totally symmetrical top to bottom, which it is not. In the end all that really happens is that the gauge drops fast to start with then slows down near the quarter mark. I could live with that.

My folks had driven the next section a little while back and warned us that it would take some time. There were some ongoing roadworks coming up and a collection of camera traps that would make any paparazzi proud. We decided to enjoy the scenery between George and Plett. We were in no major rush anyway and since this was my old stomping ground, I was keen to see what it looked like these days. 

The section between Mossel Bay and George is a great bit of dual carriage way and features a couple of winding climbs. One particularly memorably section climbs and winds up out of Great Brak for a couple of kilometres. The start of the climb was heralded by a 20 valve down shift to my right and had us playing tag all the way up the hill. The sound was glorious.  

The rest of the time was spent trundling along at either 80km/h our 60km/h and just enjoying the scenery. The Garden Route really is a pretty section of our country and can truly be enjoyed in an open top sports car. Of course the weather was stunning at this point which helped considerably too.

Storms River was our next fuel stop and we finally pulled in some time later, a little tired from having to concentrate so hard keeping the cars legal. Every time we stopped a little crowd would develop and Storms River was no exception. I would love to know what happens to all the pictures that get taken of us. We filled up with fuel, consumption was now down to 9.8l/100km, and accommodated some tourist photo opportunities before heading out again. 

Storms River stop with the usual crowd gathering

We were now on the Tsitsikamma Toll Road that features the stunning Bloukrans bridge across the Bloukrans river. This bridge, completed in 1983 and with a hight of 216m, is the highest bridge on the African Continent. For the really brave, a bungee jump operates off the upper span of the bridge and is the highest commercial bungee jump in the world. We had some motor racing to do so decided not to sample their wares.

The 216m Bloukrans bridge

Sadly, the construction of this bridge allows one to bypass the Bloukrans pass and, while this  significantly cuts down on travel time, one does miss out on the stunning pass down and out of Natures Valley. We briefly considered doing the pass on the way home, but discovered it was closed due to rock falls from the winter rains.

Anyway, PE beckoned and the flat, smooth and straight toll road would take us all the way there. Craig lead us out and scampered off into the distance. Talk about a horse smelling the stable! Needless to say the last section into PE yielded a slightly less favourable consumption figure. 

We headed straight to the track to meet up with Ant who had towed his Harper down behind his Landy.

We finally pulled into the Aldo Scribante pits nine hours after we had left Cape Town. The cars had performed perfectly and proved themselves very capably touring cars in addition to race cars. The Harp Motorsport guys were also at the track and unloaded the two remaining Harpers they had brought up on the transporter. Once all was said and done we had a string of five Harpers lined up and ready to race. 

Five Harpers all in a row. A rare sight.

Practice was scheduled to start at 8:30 on Friday morning so we bundled in to the support cars and headed to the B&B for a cleanup, dinner and some much needed sleep.

I woke at some point to the sound of torrential rain. Clearly the cold front we left in Cape Town had decided to follow us. Since racing in the rain seemed to be the norm now, I was not particularly worried and went back to sleep.

PE is not called the windy city for nothing. Friday was cold, wet and windy. We delayed over breakfast as long as we could, but eventually we simply had to head to the track for some practice. We arrived in the pouring rain, but shortly afterwards the sun struggled through and it was time to go out and explore the track. 

My castle for the weekend, including trendy moat

It was a year since I had driven here last, but I could still remember some of the sections. The first few laps were rather cautious, but PE has huge amounts of grip due to the rough surface and soon we were all buzzing along merrily. I thought I was doing pretty well until Craig came past me like I was looking for parking. I gave chase for a bit, but decided on discretion rather, given that I still had to get the car home again come Sunday. Initially the laps were slow 1:20's, but as the surface dried up and we got used to things, the times came down with most folk getting into the 15's by the end of the day. We were scheduled to qualify for Saturday race day at 4pm, however a glitch with the timing equipment scuppered that idea. We would now qualify at 8am the following morning. Bruce was also en-route from East London bringing his Lotus and the BMW I drove a couple of weeks back, however a late start meant he would arrive in the dark so we packed up and headed back to the B&B. 

Race day dawned clear-ish and windy, again. We all met up at the Harper end of pit lane to ready ourselves for qualifying. Bruce and Gary had also arrived and were setting up shop for the day as well.

The old and the new, side by side

I had a bit of a nostalgic moment when Bruce parked his Lotus, my old car, next to my Harper. We were qualifying first at 8am and engines were already being revved in the distance so the nostalgia passed and was replaced by the prerequisite butterflies instead. It was an early start and all rather hectic, as qualifying generally seems to be, but I managed a satisfactory 13.8 time. Less than half a second covered myself, Ant and Alan in the three Harpers so by all accounts we were in for a grand tussle. Craig conclusively proved that he was a sandbagger and slotted in a scorching 11.5 lap, which considering he laps Killarney at 1:24's, is a phenomenal time. The PE track was proving its moniker of being a handling cars track. Brute force and weight did not help here in the windy corner of the country.

Race one was called and the time had finally arrived for us to race. We lined up on the grid and started off on our out lap which would end in a rolling start. The idea is that we all bunch up behind the pace car at the last corner and then sprint off when the pace car ducks into the pits. The problem with this approach is that the pit entrance is very close to the corner entering the main straight. The pace car has a couple of metres before it has to duck off or risk being the mechanical equivalent of road kill. This leaves the front of the grid with pretty much the entire main straight stretching out ahead of them. No red blooded race driver can resist that, especially with thirty odd cars queuing up behind. By the time the rear of the grid, where we were, rounded the corner we were at full race pace. I was on the inside of the track with Hennie and Craig ahead. There was no time to ponder pace car etiquette. I stomped on the go faster pedal and thundered down the inside of the track taking both Hennie and Craig in the process. The first hairpin appeared frighteningly soon, but I had the race line so slowed up and closed the door. My mirrors were a blur of cars, but I was in a zone. I managed to pile on three consecutive 1:12 laps creating a large gap between myself and the rest of the cars behind. I was even managing to keep Steve in the rotary powered Lotus 7 in sight up ahead. I was a little surprised that Craig was not right up my exhaust like he usually is if I overtake him at some point, but I would later discover he had developed a fuelling problem and pulled into the pits. Quite an inventive excuse I thought.

The race was progressing well. There was no sign of any challenge from behind, however, I could just not make any impression on Steve up front. Steve was racing in Class D with us for the day so was essentially the front of the race for me. Then, rounding the hairpin on the last lap I noticed bits of bodywork strewn across the corner. Slightly further along and parked up in the run off area was Steve and a Porsche. It looked like he had tried to cut inside the Porsche on the corner, but come off second best in the altercation. Oddly, he was driving the self same Lotus that had clouted me in turn 2 at Killarney some time back. It was once again missing the right front wheel. There was going to be some interesting phone calls later when Steve explained things to Martin who owned the Lotus. Steve was still classified as the winner in Class D with me coming second. However, I had completed one more lap than him, something that would stand me in good stead later. Sadly Ant had stripped his clutch in the early stages of the race and had also called things quits. One fellow who was slapping everyone silly in his class was Carl, up from East London. Carl drives a stock standard Birkin Lotus 7 fitted with a stock standard black top 20 valve Toyota motor. Carl was lapping in the mid to low 10's. Now there's a fellow who can seriously pedal a race car!

Both Gary and Bruce were racing in a different class to us so I went off to watch Gary doing his thing in the BMW. He was having a fearsome battle with some modified Golf Mk1s and they provided a great spectacle.

A Golf sandwich with BMW filling

With the mornings races over it was time for lunch and then our second sprint race of the day. Again we gridded and rolled off on the out lap. The start was a little better this time, but Craig was taking no chances this time. He was gridded ahead of me with Hennie behind. We all descended on turn 1 at great speed and I passed Craig going down the straight, but he had the better line and got the corner ahead of me. He then also got the jump on Alan in the grey Harper as well. I tried to follow suite but was not close enough and ended up running wide going into the sweep towards the main straight. This allowed Hennie to sneak past on the inside. Clearly I was going to have to defend my second place in Class D rather than chase Allan who was racing in Class C. I took Hennie again going down the straight and set about trying to keep him behind me. He was braking much later than me and closed up right behind me on the back section of the track. I would then stroll away down the straight to have it all repeated around the back again. We played this game of yoyo for a good couple of laps. Hennie is a very experienced driver and I guess it was only a matter of time, but he eventually snuck past me. Once on the main straight I took him immediately again thanks to the four litres of V8 in my car. However, he promptly out braked me at the end of the straight thanks the absence of  V8 weight in his car. And so it went until he managed to pull out enough of a lead to keep me at bay. We then started being lapped by the Class A cars and all bets were off. I finished third behind Hennie with Craig taking the win some way up the track ahead of us. It was a fantastic race with some real dicing for a change and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. 

This ended our sprint races for the day and saw me taking first over all in Class D. It was a close call though, but served to prove the old Rick Mears adage that "to finish first you first need to finish".

The support crew hanging around, something you do lots of during a busy race meet

All that remained now was the small matter of the one and a half hour enduro. Fourteen cars were entered for this marathon event with Craig, Alan and my cars being the three Harpers present. Considering the average sprint race was lasting around 13 minutes, driving at pace for an hour and a half was a rather daunting prospect. Added to this was the fact that we were required to pit during the race and would need to take on fuel during the stop. This required some coordination with the pit crew which is not an easy task when you only see them for a fraction of a second as you blast past on the main straight. No pit radios here! We had decided to go old school and use a chalk board counting off the time in ten minute blocks. I had calculated that I could easily do one hour before I needed fuel so the 30 minutes to go sign would be my signal to pit. My other plan was to target the index of performance rather than outright race position, as I was ever cognisant of having to drive my car almost 800km home the next day. I mentally settled on 1:15 laps and lined up on the grid with the rest of the drivers. This time should be easy to maintain and not put too much strain on the car. At least I hoped as much.

The race started without incident and I tried to settle down into a rhythm. Bruce had also entered his Lotus in this event and it was being piloted by the ever skilful Carl for the first stint. He had started behind me on the grid, but was all over the back of my car. I now had a bit of a conundrum. If I let him pass around the back of the track I would need to pass him again on the straight to maintain my lap times. This would likely repeat itself every lap and slow us both down, not to mention irritate the socks off Carl. I did the next best thing that came to mind. I put in a couple of hot laps to create a gap between us. I knew he was only driving for the first 30 minutes so did not need to much of a gap. Perfect plan I thought and bolted off in to the distance. Three laps later I was reflecting on my adequate cushion when the stupidity of my plan sunk in. The index of performance is a simple system. They take your fastest lap, multiply it by the number of laps you do and then compare this theoretical time to your actual time as a percentage. Anything over 95% means you have driven very consistently. I had just put in three fast, but entirely unsustainable, laps and effectively doomed my index of performance chances. Ah well, I was still having fun and could now rather concentrate on getting my lines right and really getting grooved into the car.

Thereafter time passed quickly. I was lapped by strings of sliding Porsches who seemed to be treating the race as a sprint and was intrigued by the new skid marks on the track virtually every lap. After a while the Porsches seemed to get less. The enduro is a little surreal as a race. After a couple of laps you are essentially all alone on the track, however, every now and then you will either catch somebody or be lapped by somebody. Within seconds though you are all alone again. The 30 minutes to go board appeared and I pulled in for my fuel stop. This all went off without a hitch and soon I was out lapping again. It was hard work, hard on the body and certainly hard on the cars. Close to the end of the race I was briefly passed by Alan's silver Harper only to have it pull off in front of me, a victim of over heating.

Eventually the chequered flag fell and I rumbled into the pits a happy, albeit rather sweaty, driver. Turns out only seven cars finished the event and I was really happy to see my old Lotus pull in behind me. Two of the three Harpers had run flawlessly with Craig taking fourth over all and third on index while I took sixth over all and somewhere further down on index.

The remaining three mobile Harpers parked up in the gathering gloom

It was now getting dark so we packed the cars, parked them up near the club house and went in for prize giving. This was a jovial and somewhat smokey affair, full of banter and camaraderie borne of competitiveness. We bid farewell to the folks there and headed back to the B&B. This proved to be quite an interesting trip. It was now fully dark and we discovered that I only had one working head light and Craig had none. Strips of rubber off the race tyres had been picked up by our tyres and flicked around under the front of the car. At some point over the day, these bits of high velocity rubber had totally decimated our head light connections, literally ripping the wires from the sockets.

Anyway, we sandwiched myself and Craig between the two support cars and made the 20km trip to safety without a hitch. 

The Beast, caged for the night, at the B&B

The following morning was bright and clear as we rolled out of the B&B garage and readied ourselves for the trip homeward. We paused for a while to allow photo opportunities with the excited B&B owner then gently slipped out of PE, it was early Sunday morning early after all.

Once on the national highway we slotted back into "going home" mode and upped the noise level somewhat. Both cars still had fuel from race day and we figured we should get to Storms River again. We did, but only just. I was on about 8%, but Craig had been experimenting with all manner of new "economical" driving techniques to make the stop. We filled the cars amidst the usual gathering crowd and headed out again. Or aim was to see if we could make it all the way back to Cape Town on one tank. A distance of over 500km. This was going to be interesting.

Storms River with two models posing with the car

By now it was warming up nicely, a pleasant change from the trip down. Or at least that's what I thought at the time. By Knysna it was getting down right hot and trundling through the town, as one has too, did not help. Of course I have the added benefit of a large radiator out front near my feet. Great feature in the cold winter mornings, not so much on a hot summers day.

We finally stopped in Sedgefield and I oozed out of my car and stood dripping in the shade for a while. My body hugging carbon fibre seats might be very comfortable, but they have absolutely no ventilation what so ever. Making matters a little worse is that you need to wear clothes more suited to winter in the Alps while driving. Protection from wind, sun and general flying objects is important. A hemet, thick jacket and long pants are a must on a long trip such as this. I was hot. And I was now just a little wet too. A nice warm wind was blowing so I stood like a scarecrow in a poppy field for a while drying out. The usual crowd gathered, this time including some mechanical engineering students on their way back to Stellenbosch university. We had a good chat with them.

Sedgefield, drying in the shade

Once we had dried out a bit we set off again. Time passed quickly and traffic was light with most drivers pulling over allowing us to pass when we came up behind. While we did appreciate the gesture, it made the drive a little dull. I think I might have changed gear once or maybe twice between Sedgefield and Albertinia. Thereafter some roadworks and the diminished passing opportunities added a bit of interest to proceedings. Time passed even faster as the two Harpers mimicked that classic scene from the Gumball Rally movie, popping out in sequence to overtake cars when gaps presented themselves. 

We called a halt again at Swellendam where we stopped for a ritual dry out and to sample the much touted Roosterkoek from the area. The Roosterkoek is a particularly South African thing and consists of a ball of dough cooked over an open fire then stuffed with curried mince. They can be a little greasy, but I remember them well as a kid, being fed them often at the school hostel. Needless to say, not really politically correct these days given the trend towards healthy eating and all, but if your cholesterol can handle the shock they are well worth a try. 

Craig, updating his Facebook page prior to stressing his arteries with the local cuisine

Roosterkoek. Ours looked a little different, but tasted good

We were now on the home stretch. Swellendam is around 250km from Cape Town and the road is wide and clear all the way. The fuel situation was looking good, but time would tell as  neither of us had particularly accurate gauges. We played tag and did a few more Gumball Rally impressions before deciding discretion would be better than having to call a friend for fuel and ducked into Grabouw for a quick splash and dash. Here I met Sidney who wanted me to take his picture with the car and post it on Facebook. Well Sidney, its not quite Facebook, but here you go.

Sidney posing on Craig's car

As they say in the classics, all good things come to and end. I pulled into my garage at home just short of nine hours after leaving PE. The drive had been hot, but enjoyable and I was a little sad it was all over. The next day I would be back at my desk tapping away at my keyboard literally a world apart. 

I suppose its why we do these seemingly crazy things. You are, after all, defined by your experiences in life.

Would I do it again? In a heart beat. The Type 6 might be a race focused car, but it can easily hold its own on the open road and, luggage space aside - there is none - its a very comfortable drive.

How many folks can say they drove 800km, raced over 300km, won their class, then drove the same car 800km home again. And could still walk the next day.

Not many I would say, not many at all.

-------------------

For some exciting race footage, check out the link below from Craig. It's an edited video of the 90min race with some close, exciting racing. These guys were clearly in sprint race mode and not enduro mode!

Edited view from Craig on the 90min race

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..and a touch of Mrs Balls

Potters. Generally a fairly benign bunch of folk. I mean, how often have you read a headline like "Potter injures friend with clay vase during argument" or "Potter cremates cheating lover in home furnace". You just don't. Potters create art from what is essentially sticky mud. A noble, peace loving and calm pursuit to be sure.

So why, I ask with tears in my eyes, did they decide to call the first bend on the East London Grand Prix circuit "Potters Bend". There is nothing calm or vaguely peace loving about Potters. Ok, I do get that it coincides with the exit of Potters Pass where it joins the circuit, but surely something descriptive of its fear inducing characteristics would have been more fitting, but more about that later.

East London Grand Prix circuit has some serious history too. Opened in 1959 in its current guise, it is a 3.9km collection of sweeping bends, fast straights and tight corners. It is reputed to have the longest straight of any circuit in the country. It hosted international Grand Prix events from 1960 to 1966 and has had most of the worlds greatest drivers of old lay down rubber in anger. 

Driving the EL GP circuit is to know that you have followed the same lines taken by legends such as Jim Clark, Jack Brabham, Graham Hill and the great Sir Stirling Moss. That's definitely worth an entry on the bucket list.

But, back to the circuit. It has eight corners, effectively four straights and a tight complex of bends breaking up the back stretch. Then it has Potters, oh, and Rifle. Now Rifle, there's a more fitting name.

So what's the big deal? Well, its simple really, and has all to do with the size of your dangly bits. You see, it is possible, with a well sorted car, to take both Potters and Rifle at full chat. Yep, that's with your right foot flat. In a average race car this means taking Potters at around 200km/h and Rifle at quite a bit more.

You need to have big dangly bits. Very big in actual fact. Preferably made of brass. They even have spotters that sit aside the track and check for brake lights and engine note changes. If you are deemed to have taken Potters "flat" you get to stick a bumper sticker on your car that simply announces "I have the balls for Potters". 

Sadly I don't.

I tried. I could blame the fact that it was my first time, and the car was new to me, and it was not my car, and, and, etc.

But, after having to spend some time convincing my butt cheeks to let go of the seat once I was back in the pits, I decided that it was my first time, in a new car that was not mine and I'm sure I would do Potters "flat" in my own car.

Right.

No, but really, the EL GP circuit is a fantastic circuit to drive. It is fast and flowing and the back section of the Esses and Cox's Corner is just sublime. You can flick the car from apex to apex and blast down to the The Sweep where you can slide the car wide and up to the last corner before doing it all again.

But, lets roll back a bit here and fill in the blanks.

Last weekend I was in the exceptionally fortunate position to be invited down to East London by my incredibly generous brother-in-law to drive one of his cars in the local EL regional club race day. The car in question was a rather tasty E30 BMW fitted with an even tastier 2.8l straight six engine.

This was going to be quite an experience since I had never raced a car with a roof for a start, let alone done so on the East London track. I was seriously looking forward to it though.

We arrived, uncharacteristically early for the chosen low cost airline, to a bright and warm Friday afternoon. Bruce collected me from the airport and we headed straight to the "track". I put that in quotes since the East London track is an open public road during the week. It is only closed off to other traffic when a race meeting is being held. 

This has both an upside and a down side. The upside is that we could go and drive around the track checking out lines without any prior arrangement. The downside is, of course, that the local folk have no facility to practice like we do in Cape Town, not that this "issue" seems to slow any of them down at all! As I was to discover a bit later.

After we had driven the track a few times we set off to go and view my weapon for the weekend.

I have always rather liked the little E30 ever since I had one back in the mid 90's. This one was really a shade of it's former luxury self. It had started life as a 325i Coupe and only the bodyshell and some of the dash remained. The engine is a 325 block fitted with 328 crank and pistons and boasts a triplet of side draft Webers. The gearbox is a BMW Getrag featuring the dog leg first gear some BMW's came out with back in the day. The suspension is all custom and the diff is a trick semi locked device that made manoeuvring around the pits quite a challenge.

Toot, toot, steam train coming through!

The car had been campaigned in Class A to good effect by Gary Marais in the 90's and had only recently been brought back to life after Bruce had seen it lounging in the back of Gary's workshop and bought it off him.

I climbed into the drivers seat to check for fit and was vaguely aware of a whiff of history that permeated the interior. There was nothing pretty about this car, it was all business inside. No sound deadening, no comfort. Just a race seat, scarred old stock steering wheel and gear knob of turned aluminium. The dash consisted of a rev counter and temp gauge with a mechanical oil pressure gauge bolted to the side almost as an afterthought. This was all about going fast with nothing extraneous to distract the driver.

Of course we fired it up. It coughed and backfired through the carbs and settled down to a lumpy idle only a race engine with a wild cam can pull off. This combination seemed to be the mating call of a thousand and one butterflies that suddenly started to breed in my stomach.    

It was all rather real now.

We made plans for the following morning and bid farewell to Gary. I had a slightly restless nights sleep for some obscure reason.

Saturday morning started off fairly slowly since racing only officially got underway at 1pm. Plans had, however, been made for some unofficial practice session during the morning as a bunch of Port Elizabeth folks were also coming up to race. We arrived at the track around 9am and offloaded the cars. Bruce had brought his Lotus 7 along as well. As a matter of fact a field of 36 cars had been entered for the day. An impressive field, no doubt spurred on by the recently convened Metro Challenge series being fought between PE and EL.

Home for the day

The track was opened to practice around 10:30am and Gary offered to go out ahead of me in Bruce's Lotus to show me the lines. I gladly accepted, so we belted up and headed out onto the track. Gary promptly disappeared into the distance, apparently doing a "slow lap". I lumbered around the track trying to get to grips with the severe sensory overload that is a tin top historic race car. After what seemed like half a lap Gary appeared behind me, passed me and slowed down so that I could try to follow him again. It worked a little better this time and I got the feel for some of the lines. I then decided to get stuck in and promptly spun the car coming out of Beacon Bend onto the main straight...where all the people were. Oh well, at least I could go back home afterwards. I felt for Gary as most people probably thought it was him driving. 

Back in the pits the lap timer showed some rather pedestrian 1:50 lap times, but I was secretly quite happy with that. Gary did inform me that the car would do 1:36's so I should be able to go a bit faster. 

I promised to try. Bruce even offered to beat me in his Lotus as an incentive, which I thought was nice of him. 

The BMW is a very different experience compared to my mid engined, V8 powered Harper. My Harper has buckets of torque that start from just above idle whereas the BMW needed a bit of a poke to get things going. However, once above 4000rpm the engine comes on song and pulls like a train to the 7000rpm red line. Handling is very neutral and not the tail happy experience I was expecting. When pushed hard the car has a hint of understeer, however, jumping on the power too early coming out of corners is severely punished as I had already discovered.

The second practice session yielded a couple of 1:46's after Gary gave me some gear change advice for the Esses complex. I was starting to get the hang of the car, if not the track yet.

Then it was qualifying. I can tell you for free that driving around the track virtually alone and trying to qualify amid 35 other cars of various speeds are two vastly different things. It was all tail lights, head lights and the smell of burnt rubber for a chaotic ten minutes. In the end it was rather pointless, or maybe fortuitous, as my transponder's batteries were flat and I did not register a time. Thankfully Bruce convinced the powers that be to allow me to use my practice times as a placing. This put me somewhere near the middle of the grid which actually suited me fine. 

Since there were only bikes and cars running on the day and all the cars ran in the same race, events happened pretty smartly once things got going. A scant 15 minutes after our qualifying we were up for the first heat. We circled around and stopped on the grid where we were placed in the correct slots. We then did a single lap with a rolling start. The lights went out and a couple of Escorts darted past on either side of me. This irked me somewhat and I felt a rare surge of brand allegiance as I set off in hot pursuit of the two Fords. I passed the first one just after Potters and was hard on the tail of the second when I glanced at the rear view mirror. I was greeted by the most amazing sight. A large V8 Chevvy was heading into Cocobana Corner sideways, plumes of tyre smoke all around, sweeping all before it away.  It was time to hustle. 

I bolted around the corner and then, what appeared to be disaster, struck. Coming out of the corner I snatched fourth and dropped the clutch to be greeted by lots of noise and no forward urge. The clutch was slipping. Badly. It has been doing a bit of slipping during the practice sessions, but nothing like this. The Escort shot past again as I backed off and dropped to third. That seemed to hold, but I feared my race was over. I slipped into the pit lane and limped towards a quizzical Gary. "The clutch has gone" I yelled over the noise. "You want me to carry on?" mindful that each driver that finished the race scored team points in the Metro Challenge. "Go, go" He yelled back. "It's just oil on the clutch plate, it will get better". As he had recently rebuilt the engine I figured he was probably right, besides I had nothing to lose, so I  blasted out the pit lane to join the race again. Of course I was now stone last. As I came around Rifle I spun the engine up and slipped the clutch until I could smell burnt clutch plate. "That should do it" I thought and off I went. Turned out it did do it. As long as I timed the application of power carefully it was ok. There was just a hint of slippage going into fifth on the main straight so it was chase time!

The rest of the race was a bit of a blur as cars and corners came in rapid succession. Somewhere around the middle of the race we started being lapped by the modified class which always adds to the excitement. I did managed to overtake a couple of cars, but due to a timing glitch I have no real idea where I came. All this actually made no difference in the end since it was by far the most fun I had had in a race car for some time. And I had managed a high 1:43 lap which was nice.

A noisy neighbour. Genuine Backdraft racing Cobra.

Now, back in Cape Town we usually have to wait a good couple of hours before the next heat. Not so in East London. The bikes were up next and scarcely 20 minutes later we were lined up on the grid again for our second heat. I was placed third last on the grid, which might have alluded to my position in the previous heat, but allowed me the joy and associated ego boost of overtaking cars for most of the race. I even managed to catch and overtake Bruce. Something that took much longer than I anticipated, given the extra grunt of the car I was driving. He's getting rather quick. Again I have no idea where I came, but I had even more fun than in the previous race.

It was just Potters that was taunting me. I was still lifting off going into Potters, but getting on the power earlier and earlier, however, some stubborn element of self preservation was consistently taking control of my accelerator foot. I almost managed to keep it flat on the second last lap of the race, but at the crucial moment my foot out-wrestled my brain and lifted itself off the pedal.

There was one more race for the day. The so called "All Comers". This is a race where no points are scored and gives other folks a chance to drive the cars. Bruce graciously offered his Lotus to Gary and I got nervous. This was my old car, I really should not be beaten by a 1600cc Lotus 7 when I'm driving a 2.8 litre, straight six powered class A legend. Ah well, all in good fun. The All Comers grid was decided on a first come basis which rather bizarrely put me on the second row. Twelve more cars lined up behind us as we set off on the formation lap. A small misunderstanding regarding the start procedure meant we did a second formation lap. We arrived back at the main straight tightly bunched. The lights went out and all hell broke loose. I floored the accelerator and dived for the left of the track, the racing line for Potters. Two cars lined up next to me and we entered Potters three abreast and awfully close together. Eventually I chickened out and let the others go. The race proceeded in a similar frenetic vein all around the track with me duking it out against my two friendly Escorts. Suddenly a Golf Mk1 joined the fray and as I was eyeing him I noticed the front of Lotus 7 ducking and diving behind him. On the main straight I got myself boxed in between an Escort in front and the Golf to my right. Gary took the gap and passed all three of us going into Potters. His are definitely high quality brass. The Golf then followed him through at Rifle, but out braked himself and kept going straight at Cocobana. I swarmed all over the back of the Escort in front of me and managed to take him going into the Esses. I set my sights on the Capri a little way off and put the hammer down. Coming around Potters again I was greeted by the sight of two cars parked up very close to each other in the run off area. The drivers were gesticulating wildly at each other. Not a planned stop over then. As I entered the Sweep and headed up the the final corner again I found Gary parked up on the side of the track. Later investigation would show a oil problem leading to spun bearings. The carnage of the race continued with the Capri I was chasing deciding to go farming in the Esses.

Eventually the race was over leaving five cars languishing around the track. While most of the damage was superficial, sadly, the very nice Renault Dauphine parked at Potters was a good metre or so shorter than it should have been.

And so ended a glorious day of racing on a fantastic track. The BMW was still in one piece, something both myself and, I'm sure Bruce, were very happy about. The racing had been fun and close and a good time was had by all. What more could one ask for?

As we headed back home, cars in tow, my tired brain wondered what it would have been like for Stirling Moss and his contemporaries back in the 60's after they had completed a Grand Prix. There were no hospitality busses, corporate tents or the trappings associated with the GP's of today. 

From what I have read of these great men I suspect they all clambered into someones Anglia and headed to the local pub for a pint or two and some late night carousing. 

Myself, I was just thankful to have been given the opportunity to walk, however feebly, in their great footsteps even if just for a fleeting moment.