The one that wasn't...

I would like to say that race day dawned bright and clear, but that would be a lie. In fact, it could not be further from the truth. The past few weeks in Cape Town have been more akin to living under a waterfall than the shadow of Table Mountain.

I woke early having readied the car the previous night. We were scheduled to qualify fairly late, so there was no tearing rush to get to the track. Even still, it was dark at 7:30am when I rumbled out of the garage. The darkness was partly due to it almost being the middle of winter, but mostly due to the brooding dark clouds that were rolling in over the mountain. I decided to chance the weather and left wearing my usual peak cap and glasses. Within a couple of hundred metres I was severely regretting my decision. The rain had started to fall and at any decent speed it felt like somebody was tossing iced ball bearings at my face.

I pulled into the petrol station to fill up and quickly hauled out my helmet for the rest of the journey to the track. Of course, once I had cleared the shadow of the mountain and was on the highway, the rain dried up and clear patches appeared between the clouds. Could the dire weather predictions for the day have been wrong? Might we actually get some dry track after all?

It was not to be.

I arrived at the track warm and dry, completed documentation, and set about chatting to my fellow drivers about their expectations for the day. Everyone was fully aware of the predicted cold front that was destined to make track-fall by around 11am. This neatly coincided with our first race. However, at this point things were looking fine. The clouds were high and thin and the sun even made an appearance or two. We rolled out to qualify and I managed to grab third slot on the grid in Class D. I was a little perturbed when the engine cut out briefly as I opened things up on the back straight for the first time. It seemed as though my over-boosting problem was making a unwelcome return as I noticed the boost spike to 0.7bar briefly. 

A couple more squirts of the throttle seemed to sort things out and I figured the waste-gate had maybe just been a little rusted, what with the rather high levels of airborne moisture we had been experiencing of late. But, more about that later.

No sooner had we parked up in our pits when the pitter patter of rain drops rang out  all around us. The predicted weather front seemed to be making it's scheduled appearance after all. The pitter patter quickly turned into a thunderous roar as the rain came down in biblical quantities. People scattered in all directions seeking shelter. The day was taking a decided turn downhill, or downstream as it would seem.

And then suddenly, the whole paddock was empty.

The organisers valiantly tried to keep things going, but the torrential rain was creating vast rivers and ponds of standing water on the track. Of course, were we professional race car drivers, this would have just been par for the course, but most of us do this for fun and I was not relishing pitting the combination of my mediocre skill, 500Nm of torque and a pair of elderly semi-slick tyres against the rampant surf out on the track.

A couple of classes went out to race, with the predicable results. The Fine Cars race was red flagged when two cars came together on the main straight and ploughed into the pit wall. The bikes even had a go, with a good couple of riders ending up lying about in the muddy runoff areas around the track.

I had just donned my plastic water proofs and cattle prodded my mind into the start gate, when the announcement was made to cancel our race. Apparently, with a large percentage of our class being open topped, it was decided that visibility for these drivers would be a serious problem. The Porsche drivers were similarly concerned since they were expecting their cars to fog up within half a lap. Not ideal when you are trying to control a rear engined german missile, while skating over lakes of water.

I was both relieved and, strangely, annoyed at the same time. I guess I was actually keen to see how I would be able to manage in such atrocious conditions. But then, while we had raced in the wet before, it had been nothing like this, so considering I was sponsoring all repairs to my car, it was probably a good thing the race was cancelled.

It was now almost lunch time and rain was still coming down in the proverbial buckets. I swear I saw an old chap with a long beard, wondering around collecting pairs of animals a little while back! The Volkswagen GTI guys when out for their race and most put up a good show, but in reality, with lap times in the 1:50's, it was really a case of keeping the cars on the track and away from the others.

The Fine Cars regatta gets under way

Eventually, after one of the V8 Master cars almost rolled after spinning off in Turn 5, the rest of the day was cancelled and we all started packing up. The weather did choose that exact time to start clearing, but we were later to hear that the real reason the day was cancelled was more to do with the damage to the runoff areas, than the water on the track. Apparently a number of corners had had substantial ditches washed into their runoffs, creating the real possibility of a car rolling. Other areas were almost knee deep in standing water. I shudder to think of being trapped in a rolled car in that much water. All told, the right decision was made and I tiptoed home.

And then, in other breaking news.

I spent the following weekend dismantling my waste-gate again, only to find the shaft once again packed with carbon deposits. This device was fast becoming a waste-my-time-gate. After some Googling, it was suggested that high temperature copper slip should be applied to the shaft to prevent the build up. It seems to have something to do with a combination of bad fuel, low boost and me not using the car all that often. Time will tell if the copper slip actually works or simply gums the waste-gate up completely. I'm on the fence with this one at the moment.

Waste-gate carbon build up. The source of the over-boosting issue

Of course, once the waste-of-a-gate was back in the car, a test drive was called for, so on a clear Saturday afternoon we set out to see if boost would be stable.

This all went surprisingly well, until about a kilometre from home. You know how you get a little more reckless the closer you get to home, figuring that if anything went wrong, you would not have that far to walk and all that? Well, that's sort of how I was feeling as I pulled off from a stop street and floored the throttle in second gear, a quick snap change into third was met by an almighty bang from the rear, followed by a loud clattering noise and no more forward urge. We coasted into a side street and called for backup.

It was of course a broken half shaft, and was bound to happen. I had almost been waiting for it. My current items are made from BMW 540 shafts, and while they are strong, they have been lengthened. They have also endured two and a half seasons of hard racing, mistimed downshifts and, more recently, a huge increase in torque.

Operating parameters somewhat exceeded.

So, this week the car heads back to Harper Headquarters for some further development. It's also going to be fitted with the new headlight units to replace the ungainly frog eye versions. These were fitted temporarily when the new larger wheels took up all the space, usually set aside for the original headlight system.

Like I have said before, when you start making changes to an already working car, it's quite hard to predict the knock-on effect. But that is exactly why my car is called the prototype Type 6, because it's where all the development gets done. 

And I quite like that.