When Bad Things Happen to Bad People
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
(Editorial note: this is pretty half a$$ed in terms of narrative, it is more a stream of consciousness’ rendition of events, but hey it’s a start)
First off to put things in perspective, I have my health, a decent job, all four limbs. So this isn’t the type of story that is going to make Extreme Home Makeovers there are people much worse off than I am – go see Slumdog Millionaire or something if you like that stuff. Also this isn’t some type of desperate plead for sympathy either, if anything it is more of an excuse on my p!ss poor updates lately. At one point on our way from Virginia to Atlanta Craig stated “God hates you.” He isn't the first to chalk most of my bad luck up to karma, but really at this point I’m not sure even that can account for the ankle biting madness that surrounds me since I'm just thoughtless and insulting vs. actually a serial killer - maybe in a previous life.
Strangely though I have a soft spot for dogs, I've never met one I didn't like. And I can't watch any movie that even remotely pertains to dogs dying. Like 8 below, it was a Disney picture not really hard core drama, couldn't make even 15 min. in, pretty soft I know. One of my good friends recently had to put his dog to sleep (we miss you Norm) right before a lot of this happened and I can't say that didn't weigh on my mind as we continue(d) our struggles with our dog Indy. IF you have a pet and haven't already, please look into getting pet insurance. We're lucky enough to have the means to afford (so far) all the various surgeries and medicines however I'd hate to ever be in a position where my financial condition dictates how I care for my pets. We didn't know it was an option when we got our dogs and I can safely say we've managed to spend more on our dogs than on my racecar and that is saying something. Our one vet who has become a friend was kind enough to point out that I could have gone to vet school for what we've spent surgery. Anyway enough about that.
I’ll try and condense the past 3 months into a few quick pictures and captions:
March – motor breaks unexplainably thus negating 3-4 months of work and putting the car back to where we started in December.
April – car goes to BimmerWorld for what, I had planned to be, “finishing touches” like safety stuff, paint, and fancy decals. They get it ½ done and I go up for a race and test drive at VIR, we confirm “Yep motor’s still broke”. Everyone inexplicitly shakes their head and says never heard anything like that before.
A rare site - an E30 coming off a pro team stacker transport!
An awesome track and fun time, especially since I got to drive Brendan’s car (we made some progress dropping nearly 5 seconds off his previously fastest time there). I’m second in the B-mod national championship hunt!
Fancy decal place semi-goes out of business. Engine comes out of the car stalling progress on fancy data / gauge solution, also means windows are stuck in permanent ‘down’ position. My truck overheats the day before a planned trip up to BW to pick the car up requiring a shuffling of plans. Mechanic states that this water pump failure is “uncommon”.
Craig and I make a pilgrimage up to BimmerWorld HQ the next weekend to see just how a pro racing team lives (the answer is they live much like I did in college). On the way home it is raining so hard that people are stopping on the highway and visibility is about zero. Since the windows are stuck down it is now raining inside of my ‘new’ car, complete with awesome new seat, and fancy new electronic dash. I’m imagining my car looking like an aquarium. It is here that Craig made his theological observations.
My wife takes our dogs to spring break 2009 and our one dog develops an odd sore on his leg. She goes to the vet and finds after 8 months his body appears to be rejecting a plate from his previous knee surgery.
Spring Break 2009 - Who let the dogs out!
He goes to the vet, who sends us to the surgeon. They take x-rays, plate needs to come out, bone might have a tumor. Surgeon says that less than 5% of dogs have this problem. Surgery goes well, biopsies go to the lab. We wait, I carry 90 lbs dog out into the yard every time he needs to pee, we don’t sleep much. Dog hates wearing goofy collar manages to take out stitches while we’re somehow not looking, new vet lectures me.
The big dog rolls in the grass after being carried outside.
May – car resumes its (rightful?) position in Craig’s garage. We do bare minimum to the engine to get it ready to go back in. Craig loans Dave White and I his car for CMP enduro race. We win and eat Mexican food. Brendan and Ted prep my old engine to go back in the car, I get sick with some type of mini-swine flu (despite first ever flu shot).
Dave White, the very pregnant trophy girl, and I, all hoping that black is as slimming as they say it is.
Dog results come back kind of, he has some type of crazy staph infection that requires 7 days of injections with an antibiotic that can cause kidney failure and hearing loss, also might have a fungal infection in the bone, but not cancer - still might have to cut leg off though. Surgeon and regular vet tell us the rarity of these types of things, especially the fungus. Christine becomes really good at collecting urine samples with those disposable Tupperware containers.
The Barber enduro is cancelled and we all sigh with relief since that gives us more time to finish things up. Barber enduro is back on, and we spend Memorial Day weekend pulling 8 hour days while Craig tries not to get divorced from his pregnant wife who is tired of us ‘visiting’ their house. Second lab result comes back, fungus isn’t in bone, but is present and needs anti-fungal medication that is very expensive 2 months worth, oh yeah by the way this will hurt his liver so we need to monitor that. Good news is full recovery expected, we sigh relief. Few days later dogs ear swells up with a hematoma (basically a huge fluid filled bruise, like wrestler’s cauliflower ear). They can’t fix it since his liver is stressed from the medicine so he walks around with a painful water balloon thing hanging from his head. He is miserable, oddly this is a common condition in Weims and the first time he has been ‘typical’ – regretfully so.
Is that a sausage in your ear or are you just happy to see me?
We get the car running, Brendan is now sick, I leave the car at RWL for him to finish a few things at work to make sure we’re ready for Barber. Since I felt that running the full weekend at Barber would be pressing my luck on a car that is almost 80% new and untested parts, I plan to just show up for the “enduro” race on Saturday. The “enduro” is now just an hour long, meaning it is a total joke, and a transparent ploy to get more money for NASA on what is a money losing event. Since I hate Barber and short enduro’s I complain a lot about this to no avail. See my feelings and description of Barber Motorsport’s Park here.
I pick up the car, and Brendan, bright and early Saturday morning. It is warm already and looks to be getting hotter, but at least no rain. We fiddle faddle with a few last minute things and load the car up for the trip to scenic Leeds, AL. The trip is 2 hours door to door and since we gain an hour with the Central time zone we’re there around 9am. We go to the gate to register and are told the entry fee is $30 a piece. Incredulously I inform them I’m racing in the event. The lady tells us it is $30 each, and please sign the waiver. This is kind of like your local county fair charging a $100 to get in; I’m $60 lighter just to entertain the ‘fans’. That spoils my good mood and brings back my “I hate Barber mindset”. I go to register with the NASA folks and they’re nice enough to refund me at least $30 for my entrance fee.
We still need to put stickers on the car, I had deliberately waited on this since I knew that Scott Mc MiniMe would be on hand. He is a true graphic artist (not like Craig who simply pretends). He is also really good at putting stickers on, however the festivities from last night have dampened his enthusiasm for working on my car gratis. I cajole him into the bigger harder stickers, but am left to fend for myself on the remaining. See the picture and see if you can guess who did what.
Don't worry it isn't finished this is just the 'interim' step.
Since we’re in first place overall (which defies explanation since there are much faster cars in the series) I should be starting on pole – meaning first guy in line. NASA, in a further attempt to stop the monetary bleeding, has let another group share the track with us, and they drive “Radicals”. (Really fast go-kart type cars with some flimsy bodywork on them.) They are a) very fast and b) incredibly hard to see in your mirrors due to being so low to the ground.
What is really radical about these cars is how bad the drivers are!
The race directors determine for safety to start them first. That means I’m now starting 16th. No problem, since these guys aren’t technically racing anyway. We manage to get most everything buttoned up and I go to the ‘gird’ where cars are parked in their starting order before proceeding out on track. There are numerous volunteers that work with the officials to get people in the right spots. The first girl confirms I’m looking for spot 16, I pull forward and the next guy motions me to the left row, I can’t see the numbers at this point so I follow his directions. As I pull forward I see that I’m not in the correct row and I need to be one over. The grid isn’t designed for parking lot maneuvers and you have a lot of people and cars moving around. I yell for help and a guy comes over. I mention the dilemma and he acknowledges and goes to talk to the head starter person. They chat for awhile and he goes back to staring at the sky. I yell again, he remembers me but doesn’t seem to have the answer for getting me to my spot. He walks off again. I holler one more time and he motions me into a blank spot #35. I’m thinking he is going to use this as a ‘conduit’ to the next row so I pull up. He is looking both ways to make sure I’m clear to advance. That is when the cars start to pull off the grid to begin the race. I’ve dropped from 1 to 19 before the first lap. I express my frustration on the radio and to the gentleman as I drive past.
"The Grid" imagine full of cars with me at the back instead of the front. I learned what Craig has felt like all this time..
Thankfully the race is uneventful despite being very crowded with fast cars / slow drivers that you can’t see in your mirrors and I manage to get past all of our serious competition and avoid manslaughter charges for killing any go-kart racers. Official results have me in third place, but we’ve lodged a protest since it appears that the top 2 finishers in our class didn’t do the mandatory 5 gallon fuel pitstop. So we may actually have won, we’ll see. I don’t have my hopes set very high since ‘unorganized mess’ is the best description I can come up with on how things are being run lately.
Is this the karma they're speaking of?
We’re home by 6pm. Sunday rolls around and it seems warm upstairs in the house. I check the upstairs Air Conditioner and it clearly isn’t working. I try the AC repair tricks I know (very few) and nothing works. Monday and I call the AC guy to come out and check. He says “Well here is your problem --- Good thing the house didn’t burn down, I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Well at least the car starts now.
Executive summary - no videos, no racing action, car broke, it was hot.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Now with that out of the way if you're interested in the details please proceed on.
PART I
Barber Motorsports park is my least favorite track that we race at. It really isn't the track's fault. George Barber, the owner of a successful dairy company, decided to build a motorcycle museum and later a race track in the middle of Alabama. He spent a lot of money and made it really really nice. Two problems, it was designed for motorcycles (ie not cars), and its really really nice.
If you invited a bunch of people into your house that were basically slobs and spilled drinks and left crumbs all over the place and didn't put the seat down in the bathroom and you had a really nice house how would you feel? How would you endeavor to keep it clean? You would probably nag them a lot to clean up after themselves, constantly walking around with coasters to put on tables and asking them to throw away their trash, etc. Well since Mr. Barber has a lot of money, he has hired a bunch of stormtroopers to do that for him. And really racers aren't intentional slobs (at least most), it just isn't that easy to keep race cars from leaking stuff or dropping parts. Generally speaking the older the car the leakier and more part dropping prone it becomes - the newest E30 BMW is almost 20 years old so do the math.
As usual my adventure begins a little before arriving at the track with the obligatory race car preparation. Having not broken anything at our last race (so I thought). I was optimistic that getting the car ready would involve a quick oil change and brake pad swap. Since my buddy Craig has a nice new garage that is shaded and has a car lift, that seemed to be a good location to do the work. As I pull into the garage and we attempt to get the car in position for the lift we notice it won't roll backwards when in neutral (as it should). We put the car in the air and attempt to rotate the rear wheels. They don't budge. I'm not the fanatic with car maintenance that some guys are, but I do take care of my brakes. After all if you're going fast its important to be able to stop when you want to. So after a quick discussion of possible problems the diagnosis is that the parking brake appears to be stuck. And much like the 1820's physicians our car diagnostic abilities resemble, we determine the proper fix is to amputate. 10 minutes later and Craig has a bunch of rusty parts with which to continue his metal sculpting career.
Car seems to roll, we check the calipers and everything seems okay. We continue onto the simple oil change. This also proves not so simple even though we've both done this approximately 1000 times. In another piece of foreshadowing for the weekend, we decide everything has taken too long and put off bleeding the brakes.
We make our way towards sunny Leeds, AL and forget about a thing called "time zones". This means we get there really early, which was nice since it gave us more time to soak up the sun and heat. We go to our assigned parking spots on the Barber "skid pad". A skid pad is an ultra smooth, ultra nice piece of pavement used for testing / instructing. As the Barber soup nazi's told us - "this is the most protected piece of pavement in the paddock". It was also a rich, deep, dark black perfect for absorbing the 90+ degree heat. Ironic that the leakiest cars of the bunch would be parked there?
In my mind this is when racing is the most dangerous. If you want to replicate the fun of racing in the South during the summer, find an old snowmobile suit and ski mask (bank robber style). If you don't have a sauna nearby, pick a nice hot day and start a fire in a big parking lot. Now try to do math problems or something mentally challenging as fast as you can, maybe have a friend throw things at you and try to dodge them. Even though my preseason race preparations included losing more than 40 pounds, I still sweat like a fat man walking up stairs. I hate Al Gore and his stupid global warming.
PART II
I start the endruo race with high hopes of exploiting my extensive "experience" (I've driven here 3 times) at Barber and taking advantage of a few guys that hadn't raced at the track. I dive into turn one and the brakes don’t feel right. I come out of the first corner and the car is bogged down. I then remember that the rear brake problem and figure they're still locked up. I limp around for 2 laps and radio in that the car is hosed and I'm coming into the pits. When the brakes are applied your forward motion becomes friction which becomes heat. You slow down, but the price is the heat you generate. Typically no big deal, as the system and modifications we're allowed deal with this. When you have your rear brakes on constantly things get hot, jungle hot, cherry red metal hot.
I'm quite lucky in that I have 2 friends in Jason Mascow and Brendan Digel that are both awesome mechanics, and Craig could probably manage a muffler shop. Before I'm out of the car they have it almost on jack stands, and Jason has the master cylinder (the next most likely cause) almost out of the car. I'm stupid enough to carry a lot of spare parts (another awesome part of racing a 20 year old car) and happen to have a new master cylinder ready to go. We have it replaced and the brakes bled in less than an hour. So Craig suits up for his stint and we're again optimistic that the problem is fixed.
4 laps later and Craig is driving into the pits, and we're pretty certain it isn't fixed.
There are three main components to the braking system - the ABS pump, a proportioning valve (that controls the front and rear braking force), and the master cylinder. The odds of finding the other two components in rural Alabama at 4pm on a Friday becomes a race of its own. One of our competition breaks down during the race, they locate a junkyard that theoretically has all of these things and is open for another hour. Brendan takes off with team beertech's crew chief in hopes of getting stuff fixed for the Sat and Sun races. The next 'gotcha' is the price. If you have an ABS pump for E30 325is BMW in rural Alabama and someone wants it, the smart business man would say bend over. The pump new retails for like $600 or $700. I get mine for $75. Of course it might not work, that is the assumed risk.
Time goes by and Brendan returns with the parts. Jason amazes me again by swapping out the ABS pump and the rear proportioning valve in under an hour. I settle down to bleeding the brakes which entails visiting each wheel and draining fluid off a little at a time to get the nasty air bubbles out. This lasts until around 8pm.
No race weekend is complete without getting lost. We show up to our motel - the delightful Jameson Inn only to be informed that A) they're overbooked and B) they don't even have my reservation. We convince the girl that we did have a reservation, and they agree to pay for a night at the Marriott Courtyard, which is a 'hotel'. Things are looking up. Until we get lost and drive around for an hour. Having exhausted 3 of the primary direction (N, S, E) we settle on West and find the Courtyard. Delightfully surprised by its niceness we go out to eat and fall asleep very tired (after 12 hours of hard labor in the unforgiving heat on a surface that approximates a frying pan in temperature and appearance). Again thinking that the car is fixed.
Sat. practice arrives. Guess what. Car isn't fixed (you suspected that already though). Now I have some mystery green goo on the insides of the wheels that we figured to be grease from the axles spewing out from the heat.
Decision time. Our sanctioning body - NASA has a pretty liberal refund policy. If I punt now, I'm out no money but can't race if I (meaning other people) manage to fix it in the next two hours before qualifying. Given that we've replace the 3 major components of the brake system I finally lose my optimism. I withdraw and live to fight another day. However like any smart general it’s a fighting retreat. I agree to instruct. This means, I take on a student and give them the benefit of all my hard won knowledge and NASA agrees to let me go on track with the other instructors for free. Fair deal right. In the meantime we'll keep thinking about the car and maybe it will get fixed.
PART III
Since I'm a late add to the instructor ranks, I'm designated as a 'floater'. If another instructor doesn't show for a session (20 min period) or has to leave, etc. I’m the guy. I head down to the grid hoping that no one is late or sick and I can go to lunch. 3 min to go and one poor sap in a bright yellow 2007 Z06 corvette is sitting all by himself. Great. I pulled a 'widow maker'. People think racing is dangerous. I guess it can be or could be. In my POS 20 year old car I'm surrounded by 200 pounds of steel tubing engineered in such a way to make a crash as minor an annoyance to me as possible. I have a full fire suit and HANS device along with fire suppression, etc. In other words pretty safe, especially considering that my car is (in race car terms) slow as b@lls. If you don't know what a Z06 looks like, see the attached .jpg from this weekends 'not so lucky' file.
A Z06 on the other hand is just as the General intended it loud and bright and faaassstt. And probably pretty darn safe for the street. You don't go 170mph on the street. Instructing is crazy in my mind. I get to sit helpless in this car that has at least 2 times the HP of the fastest car I've ever driven with someone I don't know from Adam while they try to drive as fast as they know how and I try to guess what mistakes they might make. Sound like fun?
On my way into the car I notice he also spent the money on Hoosier tires. Roughly the stickiest tires in the word, and notoriously unpredictable when they get hot and greasy. Did I mention the track temp is probably around 140 degrees or more? I open the door hoping to see a gutted interior with a cage and nice safe FIA race seats and harnesses. Instead I find it stock, with Gforce (the Kmart of safety equipment) 4pt harnesses. Slightly better then a seat belt, except it isn't tight and there isn't time to mess with it and make it fit. In for a penny in for a pound, at least I have the lap belt and my helmet.
I introduce myself and find out that Bob just bought the car. This is his 2nd session and first time on track. So he has approximately 20 minutes driving experience (bad). He is older, maybe mid-50s (good). He tells me the car has after market camshafts and headers = more HP (bad).
Then my luck finally changes. Bob isn't too bad. Turns out he actually did a race school prior to this. And he doesn't feel like racing his buddies, or just hammering it down the straightaway, he is actually listening to what I tell him.
We end the session and he says I'm a much better instructor then his last guy (odd since I've done this like 5 times total) and can I be his assigned instructor. I tell him to sort it out with the powers that be, and to fix the harnesses.
My desire to wrench on the car diminishes with the heat I check the hard lines to make sure there isn't a kink in them, and some other friends check for obstructions and the calipers. Turns out the calipers may now be the problem (even if they weren't originally) due to the high temps. We leave the track and make a visit to every retail auto parts store in the greater Leeds metropolitan area. Amazingly there isn't a high demand for OEM BMW replacement parts in the heart of Chevy Truck country. So I'm SOL once again.
Sunday arrives and turns out Bob had enough of the heat and left early so I'm a free man. I pull my car onto the trailer and lose an hour and $74 in gas to the man on the way home. Next race is in July, where I'm hoping it warms up! at Carolina Motorsports Park. Our 3rd visit to lovely Kershaw this year.
EPILOGUE
So the moral of the story. I've done pretty well this year, and have exceeded my expectations to a certain extent. But the racing gods are mercurial creatures and will punish the slightest hint of hubris without mercy. They demand sacrifices of sweat and metal before they are appeased. Hopefully I've given enough to pay for my sins. Unfortunately I wasn't alone in my penance.
My buddy Craig who thought he just had a potential transmission problem, ended early due to a motor that sounded on the brink of failure with rod knock. When a rod fails, there is nothing holding the piston anymore and it can shoot through other parts of the engine. Spilling oil (which Mr. Barber would charge you to clean up), creating a dangerous on track condition, and an even more expensive repair. He made the right call and pulled his car onto the trailer and parked next to me in the infirmary ward.
Dave White and Randy Mueller 'borrowed' a car for this weekend. Dave drove it down 8 hours to race in the enduro and one sprint race. Randy drove 16 hours from Miami to join him. They broke a shift rod 1/2 way into the Friday race and couldn't get it fixed. We rewarded Dave by putting "I LUV MEN" in bright orange tape on the passenger window of the race car. No one has heard from him since he left the track on an 8 hour tour of the deep south.
In slightly more high stakes action my Bimmerworld buddies wrecked all 3 of their cars in their race over the weekend at Watkins Glen. That is bad luck that defies understanding. And it extra special sucks since they've had so much bad luck, they're known for bad luck. In racing that is saying something.
So to put it in perspective I got off relatively light.
PROGRAMMING NOTE
I've been coerced into putting these into a blog type format vs. email. We're working on the website now and hopefully the next email you get will simply be a link. This will allow me to make more frequent updates (probably shorter), and reduce the clutter in your email. So instead of just deleting this email, you can just 'not' visit the site!
As always I appreciate feigned interest, and thanks to Brendan, Jason, and Craig for pit crew assistance and to Bimmerworld for all their support.
