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.

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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.

Crackle, pop .... snap!

Louis had a good idea. We were standing in the drizzle watching the Clubmans slither out of turn 4. He said some time ago it was suggested that instead of us taking a long break over the December/January period, we should break in mid year, around June/July. This makes absolute sense given that mid year is the rainy season. And rainy it was!


When I woke at 6am on Saturday morning it was to the sounds of torrential rain. A quick conference with Craig and it was decided that we should skip the ludicrously early 8am qualifying and head to the track around 10am rather. The rain was predicted to clear up by then too, which of course makes the trip trackside much more pleasant. 


Also, given that he and I made up two thirds of the class D field, we felt we had some latitude with regard to the grid placings our absence would elicit. If you miss qualifying you line up behind the last driver that did qualify in your class. Since the very quick Steve was the other third of class D we figured we would be ok. As it turned out, only 16 drivers managed to summon the courage and fortitude to brave the elements, effectively putting the both of us at the rear of the field.


I arrived at the track around 10am slightly damp and frosty, but more from the spray of fellow motorists than from any rain fall. The sun was actually out and shining with meaning.

Rainbow over the main straight

We were only scheduled to race at 12:25 so there was quite a bit of time to kill. Chatting to the other drivers somewhat vindicated our decision to skip qualifying. Apparently outboard motors would have been better suited to the conditions.


Many of the usual bunch were missing. Ant in the turbo Harper was taking a break in Botswana while Haydn and his supercharged Harper (now with larger pulley) was just plain taking a break. That left myself and Craig to hold up the Harper banner. That was until we noticed a familiarly shaped nose protruding from a garage a little way up from us. Investigations revealed it to be Alan de Goode's stunning Type 5. This car has long been rumoured to be joining us, but nobody had actually seen it. It is a true master piece and looks absolutely stunning in the flesh. So much so that I slunk back to my car and tried to wash some of the bugs off the front to make it feel better.

Alan's stunning Type 5

Alan and his team have made some very stylish and subtle mods to the front of the car, but more crucially have fitted it with a set of slick tyres and a stonking 2 litre turbo motor similar to what Ant has fitted to his car.  This means when everyone is back and the sun is shining again we should be able to field five Harper Sports Cars in one race. That would be nice.


As we wandered back to the pit it started to rain again. The track had pretty much dried out at this point, but was now getting a solid soaking again. Unfortunately for some, the cloud burst was just in time for the first of the bike races. Two wheels and a wet track take some large diameter cahonies, but even with those attached the first race was a little pedestrian as riders tried to stay upright in the deluge. A couple of minutes later the skies cleared and the sun came out again. The super bike riders rolled onto the sopping track and confirmed to all who were watching that they are indeed a different breed as they exited turn 4 with front wheel lifting and rear wheel cutting a fine rooster tail of spray. Brave and talented men indeed!

And the rain comes down again ...

..then 10 minutes later

Finally, it was time for us to get onto the track. The day had warmed up nicely and the track was pretty much dry with only a small river across the kink after turn 2. I was placed behind Craig and Alan at the rear of the grid and once the race got underway realised that I was a little rusty, not having driven for a couple of weeks. It took me a good number of laps to get on form and bring the times down to more acceptable 25's and 26's. But with a small field, the race was rather uneventful as I tried vainly to catch Alan and Craig who had made off up the track while I was faffing around at the start. I was also having some trouble with gear shifts, particularly selecting 4th from 5th. On two occasions I bolted into turn 5, selected 4th, dropped the clutch expecting the engine braking to take effect and almost launched over the exit curb when I had actually selected neutral. 


We arrived back in the pit with Craig having taken the win in Class D and both of us realising just how quick Alan's Type 5 was. It was looking like the second race might be a great four way contest with all the class D cars lapping around half a second of each other.


Lunch was called and we headed to the club house for some much needed food and coffee. Our second race was just before 5pm so there was not a huge amount of urgency around lunch and we chatted for a while. Some time later we headed back to the pit and took a look at my gear shift. The fore/aft motion was definitely stiffer than it had been in a while. We decided it was probably the linkage pivot at the rear that needed some greasing so suited up and headed to the holding area for the start of the second race. All went according to plan and we rolled around for the start. Alan was behind me bringing up the rear of the field (remember, we draw lots for grid positions for race two). The lights went out and we all roared off down the main straight. Alan aptly demonstrated his superior skill combined with the benefits of slick tyres and snuck past me on the outside of turn 1 so I slotted in behind him around the back section of the track. The plan was to tail him down the back straight, get a measure of his speed and then possibly out brake him into turn 1 at the end of the main straight. His car is pretty quick, and corners very well on slicks so I was a little way off him as we entered the back straight. I managed to make up some distance and dived into turn 5 hard on the brakes. I hooked 4th and dropped the clutch, but got neutral again. I stirred the pot a bit more, but all my gears, like Ant and Haydn, were clearly taking a break. I gave up on the gears and instead selected a couple of choice words while the rest of the field disappeared down the main straight. 


Thankfully the entry to the pit lane is just at the exit of turn 5 so I coasted into the pits still trying to find a gear. Eventually I found 3rd, but the gear shift was definitely not well and my race was over before the first lap was competed. Once parked up I fiddled a bit more with the gear knob which, suddenly and with a distant thunk, went all floppy. Closer inspection revealed that the fore/aft shift cable had snapped. It must have been going for a while resulting in the stiffening of the gear shift. The broken end looked a bit like a little wiry mushroom. A new heavier duty version is on order as I type.


So, after over a total of 2500km, more than 300 race pace laps, 7 race meetings, 15 sprint races, three track days, four track testing sessions, a session on the skid pan and lots of general driving around, the Type 6 prototype had finally and officially experienced it's first failure. And its something as simple as a cable that has failed.


If that's not a testimony to the design and quality of build then I don't know what is.


We are now on a break from Cape Town regionals for a while with our next race meeting being down in PE in September. We are expecting all five Harpers to be going with myself and Craig driving ours down. Now that should be an adventure of note! 

A combination of factors, really..

Concentration. It's possibly the single most important skill one needs to race a car effectively. If you think you concentrate when you drive to work in the morning, think again. Most drivers are what's known as unconsciously competent (yes, I know, there are quite a bunch that are just plain unconscious too). This means they can drive without really thinking about it.


Driving at high speed around a race track requires an altogether different level of concentration, to the extent that I can often not remember anything about a race other than what happened immediately around me. Focus is everything. Without it, you simply do not go fast. Drivers call it their "groove". Once you have managed to line your brain up for the race, you are in your groove. 


This is important, especially in places like Turn 4 at Killarney, also known as Malmsbury Sweep. It's a scary place. On paper it looks fairly benign. It's a long sweeping right hander with a double apex. Get your turn-in right, hit the first apex and you should be able to hit the second apex dead on without moving the steering wheel at all. So what's the problem? It's the exit that is the issue. A lapse of concentration at the start of the corner with be punished at the exit. If you overcook the entry and spin off around the first apex you are ok as there is plenty of speed arresting, mole hill studded sand to stop you pretty smartly. You are also still fairly ok if you come off around the second apex. The real trouble is if you manage to make the first and second apex, but then lose it on the exit, which is more common. You see, the exit to Malmsbury is also where the tunnel under the track is located. This necessitates a narrowing of the run off areas and essentially creates a funnel of tyre walls leading onto the back straight. Your chances of hitting something unforgiving on either side of the track is exceptionally high if you muck up the exit. 

Malmsbury Sweep with the "funnel" effect at the exit

To make matters worse, the sweeping nature of the corner makes Malmsbury the fastest corner on the track. I usually enter the corner at around 140km/h and exit at around 165km/h. History is speckled with bum puckering crashes at Malmsbury. Bottom line is, you treat turn 4 with the utmost respect and you concentrate hard.

Which is what I neglected to do during the Saturday practice before race weekend. Reality has this habit of stepping in with it's swift sobering slap when you start getting cocky. I was starting to get cocky, drifting the car out of corners, squirming it into corners, it was feeling good. I thought I was getting the track nailed. So it should have been no surprise. I cut into turn 4 right on the limit, clipped the first apex fractionally late. The meant a little correction for the second apex which upset the car slightly. No matter, second apex clipped and fully onto the loud pedal. A glance at the speedo showed 168km/h. The tail was feeling a little loose, but that was ok, there is a little bit of curb to run up on at the exit. Problem is that the little bit of curb runs out soon after the exit. I ran up the curb with the rear of the car and then the curb ran out. After that there just sand, which offers not grip. The tail twitched left, which I instinctively corrected for. Mistake number one. By the time I had corrected for the rear wheel that had been on the sand, it was back on the tar. My not-required correction caused the tail to swing out right, again I corrected. Mistake number two. I over corrected. The car did a complete 360 at around 160km/h. Things happen very fast at that speed, but thankfully my skid pan training come into play and I had my foot on the clutch as the spin started. I ended up facing down the back straight directly in the middle of the funnel. The car was still moving, so I hooked third and shot off down the track. By the time I rounded turn 5 and headed into pit lane the adrenalin kick was in full swing. I could taste metal.

I pulled up in the pit and climbed out. Thankfully it was a quiet day and there were few spectators. Steve wandered over as I clung to the garage support wondering why my legs were so wobbly. He'd been working on his car in his garage and had heard the commotion. "Enjoy your spin" he asked, "I was waiting for the bang" he added encouragingly. Craig, who had come to spectate the day, also wandered up. He was blissfully unaware of the action as he had been on the main straight side of the track. We went over to take a look at the tyre marks. The rear of the car had missed the right hand side tyre wall by less than a metre! Talk about guardian angels!

So it was with this reality slap fresh in my mind that I packed my car ready for race day early on Saturday morning. The fact that is was pouring with rain and that I had a sinus headache from hell did not help my mood. Anyway, the forecast was for clearing showers and we were racing at midday so it should be fine. I donned my helmet and set off for the track.


Luckily I managed to skirt around the edge of the rain clouds and arrived mostly dry if somewhat frozen. Open top sports cars in Cape Town winter are a blast. It was around 8am and most folks were conspicuous by their absence. Louis was busy unloading his Lola T212 as was Godfrey, but there were few other Sports & GT folk around. I headed off to scrutineer. By the time I arrived back at the pit, Paul and his GT40 had arrived. He unpacked his massive set of wet tyres. We discussed the weather for a bit when the heavens opened and rain pelted down. We went off in search of coffee. Qualifying was at 9:30am and slowly the S&GT crowd filled out. The rain had stopped, but the track was still very wet. Craig arrived minutes before we were due to go out in his Type 5 sporting a shiny new body and colour scheme. A trip to the weigh bridge will reveal a 30kg weight saving over his old body, dropping his car just under the 700kg point. He scuttled off to scrutineer as we lined up. I opted for a slot near the back since I only had semi slick tyres for my car. Semi's are basically slightly harder compound slick tyres with shallow groves cut into them. The groves are mostly cosmetic and, at best, a mere nod towards wet usage. It was a good call. I tip toed around the track. With 390Nm on tap low down the curve it was ridiculously easy to step the rear out in the corners. Coming down the main straight I was treated to a fine pirouette by Paul's GT40 as he did a 720 into turn 1. It was hardly qualifying with virtually everyone having some kind of "excitement" during the session.


Back in the pits Craig set about tracking down the source of a top end misfire as I nursed my worsening headache. He quickly diagnosed a faultily ignitor and we headed to the clubhouse for the ritualistic egg and bacon roll. We only raced at 12:00 pm so had some time to kill. The weather taunted drivers as the rain and sun fought for supremacy. Wheels where swapped and swapped again until eventually around 11:30 the sun came out to stay. The track was drying and lap times were coming down. We were in for a decent race after all. 


Our race was finally called and we rolled out to form up on the holding grid. I caused a bit of chaos by parking up in the wrong slot forcing Paul to take my slot two places up. I could have sworn I was in the right place. Anyway, we quickly sorted out the placings once on the track and duly lined up for the rolling start. The lights went out and the race was on. Although my brain appeared to have other ideas. My headache, which I was later to discover was the start of a bout of flu, was seriously impeding my ability to concentrate. I have already eluded to the importance of being able to concentrate during a race. It quickly became apparently that I was not really in the race at all. Try as I might I was unable to break the 1:30 barrier. Brake makers were off and lines were all over the place. I was scarcely able to hold off the two class E cars and the end of the race could not come quickly enough. It was not enjoyable at all. My average lap time was a full ten seconds slower than my best ever time. Not an ideal result. 


Back in the garages I commiserated with Paul. I had managed to beat Paul in the end, but only because he had run out of petrol. Craig, on the other hand, had come perilously close to lapping me and had taken the win in Class D. Theories where presented covering all possible excuses for my lacklustre performance, but in the end it was simple. My mojo was missing. Ah well, we had a couple of hours until the next race, maybe lunch would bring it back.


It didn't. Race two was a factionally faster version of race 1 with me clocking a best lap in the 1:27's. Not exactly stellar. We were not amused. By this time my throbbing head coupled with my dire performance had eroded any vestiges of the fun factor for the day. Not even my chance second placing in Class D could lift the day. I do prefer to achieve results by skill rather than other's mechanical misfortune. Both Hennie and Steve had suffered punctures resulting in them only completing once race each.


It was time to call it quits so I packed up my goodies, bid the others farewell and headed home. 

A grumpy driver heading off into the sunset

Sunday morning brought a gloriously sunny day and shone a good deal of light on the events of the previous day. I had full blown flu and felt like somebody had stuffed my head with cotton wool while I was asleep. Chats with other drivers yielded sage nods and stories of similar illness induced concentration lapses. 


It just goes to show how important a fit mind and body is to any sport that requires a high degree of concentration. There is a lesson in that for sure.

Still, the Type 6 has contended and completed every race of the season so far, so while the driver might not have been holding up his end of the bargain, the car certainly was.

Sadly, also due to a lapse in concentration, I forgot to charge the camera so there is thankfully no video of me driving Miss Daisy around the track. 


We race again on the 7th of July. I seriously plan to be back on form by then and ready to kick some Harper butt!