Off Topic: Emotional Triggers

The Canada Geese are back in Chicagoland.

In flight, in formation, they are beautiful birds.  My dad loved them so much that he had a rather depressing "realistic" painting of some in a typical winter field hung in the condo in Florida where he wintered.

As amateur art critics, my mother and I could have picked this painting apart like... a Christmas Goose. We never said a word.  To dad, somehow, the Canada Goose symbolized freedom and elegance in flight. As a boy, he was captivated by Charles Lindberg's solo cross-Atlantic feat.  And, I'll guess, he enjoyed the Canada Geese who foraged in the field behind the house that he and my mother built when I was a teenager.

If I enjoyed those winters, the recollection is long gone.  I remember freezing my butt off at the school bus stop in my high school days.  Instead, I remember the joy of hanging out, in cars, watching pretty girls in other cars, at Manners Big Boy, in summer.  Is American Graffiti evocative for men of a certain age, even if they grew up in Cleveland, OH?  Believe it.

My own first recollection of Canada Geese is the gawdawful mess they made of the shoreline of a small pond near the house my children were raised in, outside Minneapolis.  Bird shit everywhere.  Bovine-sized-bird shit.  The mommy geese, raising their... goslings, I guess... hissed at my own small children who approached them in inter-species appreciation.  The geese were also a huge pain in the ass as they crossed the roads on my rural-ish two-lane commute to and from work.  They, and their bipedal lovers, seriously interfered with my Mille Miglia fantasies.

My next memory of Canada Geese is from where I now live.  Until last winter, my house was on a small river.  Even though the neighborhood was a subdivision, it had a rural flavor because the land on the other bank was a flood plain.  The Canada Geese loved it.  They didn't symbolize freedom or elegance to me.  Their return in the fall symbolized the arrival of winter.

Now I live on a rise that aspires to be a knoll, half a mile or more from the river.  The Canada Geese are back today, in their noisy, honking, crowds.  They are to wildlife as Roman traffic is to the Mille Miglia. The leaves on the trees have just begun to turn.  The corn isn't even harvested yet.  S** of a b****!  The damned birds are back, which means winter can't be far behind.

Scirocco Update

After a long hiatus to deal with more pressing matters, and giving  fuel line issues a good think, Hotshoe has delved into his Scirocco again.  One of the things that stalled him was an inability to find 8 m.m. tubing.

It turns out that 5/16 inch tubing (which is readily available) is 99.3% of 8 m.m., the nominal diameter of Volkswagen's fuel line o.e.m. spec.  In inches, .002 smaller.  This is a livable difference with good bell flares at the ends of the tubes.  The tubing is hard to bend--it's the same metallurgical spec. as o.e.m.  He will start in the engine compartment and work rearward, uncoiling the new tubing as he goes.  He needs to use a route adjacent to, but separate from, the old line.  That's because ripping out the old line, which is paired with the return line, would damage the latter (which itself is in good shape).  Finally, he needs to fabricate some stone shields where the new line may be exposed to road hazards.

The new tubing and flaring tool.  Hotshoe has sleeved the tubing with 18 short rubber hose "bumpers" to protect it
and clearance it where it makes bends and/or runs close to the chassis and the old tube.

Hotshoe has been practicing, and getting good at, bell flares.

Porsche 911 2.7 RS Video

Another fine Petrolicious video:

http://www.petrolicious.com/a-porsche-rs-race-car-built-for-the-street


The 2.7 RS is often cited as the best model in the long history of air-cooled 911's, at least for normal road use.  There were faster ones (the Turbo), all-singing, all-dancing ones (the 959), but none apotheosized more than the 2.7.  It's the model I'd pick, if I could afford one.  (Stripe delete option, please.)

My experience has been that you are a 911 freak, or you aren't.  I've tried to explain my disease to Hotshoe, often past the point where he was interested.  And I'm not even a Porsche fanatic, at least in my own estimation.  The 911 is not necessarily, for me, the pinnacle of sports car design &c. &c. &c.  The '60's and '70's produced other iconic sports cars--more than their share.  And the most recent decade or so hasn't been too shabby either.

It comes down to "imprinting," I think.  The 911 made no great impression on me when first seen in the pages of Road & Track.  "Nicer than a 356," I thought, "but even more expensive."  Ed Cole had already done a rear-engine air-cooled flat six, albeit with pushrods, in the Corvair.  And 2.0 liters wasn't that much bigger than the 1.6 in the 356.  Not when Alfa's 1.6 had d.o.h.c. and Ferrari, Jaguar, and Corvette had 3.0, 3.8, and 5.4 liters respectively.  The 911 cost more than a base Corvette, as much as an XK-E.  At least Porsche finally had fully-articulated independent rear suspension...

But the first one I saw in the flesh, in the summer of 1965, stopped me in my tracks.  It was a black 911 coupe.  It's lopey idle signaled its 128 horsepower at high revs--almost 50% more than the 356 Super 90's.  At anything higher than 2000 revs, you heard the low-restriction exhaust and that aggressive-sounding cooling fan whir. "This is not your father's Porsche," I thought.  The 911 quickly established itself as the car to drive in the SCCA's C Production class (356's ran in D and E).  It could and did beat B Production Corvettes, especially on short courses or where braking and lack of fade was important.

And it looked terrific--lean and mean, but sophisticated--even better in the flesh than in pictures.  I fell in love.  Still am.

09/14 Dragon Run: A Pass With Kamal

Kamal on his way to work (shooting pix for Killboy.com) in a slayer he built himself: a Gen. 5 Honda Civic CX.  He
 has not goosed the horsepower considerably, but he put a lot of forged parts into the engine when he rebuilt it.  So
it lives happily near the rev limit with the throttle floored for pass-after-9-mile-pass.  Sticky rubber on the widest,
lightest, wheels that will fit.  Upgraded suspension.  Wide beam driving lights for night passes.  The car weighs
under 2600 lbs., curbside, with Kamal in it.  In short, an ideal Dragon slayer.

I'm not a carsick passenger.  Not as a little kid.  Not in 3 laps around Nelsons Ledges in a Porsche 550 Spyder.  Not in laps beside a driving instructor in my own RX-7.  Not in a dozen Dragon passes beside Hotshoe in our cars at 7 or 8/10's in the past few years.

But I was getting ready to toss my dinner (eaten 3 hours before) riding beside Kamal on a Dragon pass. He took me from the south end to Shade Tree Corner and back--a little more than halfway.  Before Parsons Branch, my stomach was in trouble.  Luckily, he slowed up at the beginning of the return run to wait for a buddy who had been chasing us.  Then he went at 8/10's again for the last half of the return pass.  My stomach began to protest again.  I kept my dinner down, but was dizzy when I got out of the car.

My problem wasn't the side loads.  It was the rapid pace in change of direction on the switchbacks.
You know those little hairs in your inner ear that maintain your sense of balance?  Mine couldn't keep up with the car.  A hard pass on the Dragon has to be experienced to be believed.  Video doesn't do it justice.  But here's one anyway, from a time when Kamal was running a less aggressive wheel/tire package:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpKLjJ6sLds&index=38&list=PLqn4bFwdfwUn1F-HbXRRb3__O5klvTlm- 

An 11-minute pass is "only" 20% faster than a 14-minute pass.  It's the pace through the bends and rate of direction change in a "built" slayer that's an order-of-magnitude above a normal, sporty, street car.

Kamal is very smooth.  Fast drivers always are.  The Dragon rewards smoothness even more than a road circuit does.  If you make a mistake in a corner, things get worse--quickly--in the next one, which is already right on top of you.  Kamal never left our lane.  It was a glorious ride, and I'd do it again. But I'd eat even earlier before the pass and make sure I wasn't already exhausted from a day's worth of my own passes.

Kamal's office: a proper steering wheel, shimmed for proper reach, a short-throw shifter, and metal pedal pads.

Kamal said "I take passengers at 8/10's--no harder.  For one thing, you're a passenger.  There's always the possibility of mechanical failure.  Or I could make a mistake.  It's best to keep a couple of 10ths in hand unless you're alone in the car.  Hard passes are why I'm OCD about maintenance, most of which I do myself, including frequent inspection of the undercarriage."

"No pictures, please!"  Kamal is camera-shy, but someone got him in his X2 natural habitat: on the Dragon, working on
a car.  His Civic has a trunkful of tools and he knows how to use them, up to and including engine rebuilds.

Before making (night-time) passes, some of us drove into Robbinsville for Mexican food (I stuck to iced tea).  The regulars who hang out at the Dragon are fast, competent, drivers, on four wheels or two.  I rode with Walter and wouldn't have dreamed of trying to keep up with them, even in a better car than my Mustang.  I don't know how this crew screens out the squids, but they do.  Maybe it's self-screening: the dinner run was very fast--not necessarily on the straights, but in the corners.  Three of the drivers were local, three from out-of-town.  The out-of-towners are on the Dragon frequently.  And it was in an interesting variety of cars:

Kamal's Civic

Killgurl's S-2000

Walter's S-2000 Club Racer Edition:  Walter runs four-season radials because he likes to slide a bit.  He also runs a completely stock car, on the theory that it's easier, more convenient, and more reliable to let Honda do the engineering for you.  Like me, Walter admires Honda beyond all reason.

Brian's BMW E-46 Coupe:  His daily driver is a stock E-46 sedan; he built  this car for track days.  Including a demon straight-6 with radical cams and special bearings, for which he claims over 400 h.p.  It's streetable, though.

Hayden's Mazda Miata: He just bought this car to turn it into a slayer.  His mods so far are a roll bar and lowered suspension.  Next (I'm guessing) wheels and tires.  Hayden's previous car was a Honda Fit that was as fast through the Dragon as some much more powerful cars--with him behind the wheel.

Hyundai Veloster 1.6 twin turbo: I didn't catch the name of this car's owner, but he had no trouble keeping up in an apparently stock car.

What this list establishes, I think, is that the nut behind the wheel is the key go-fast equipment for Dragon passes.  Or, as my club asks newbies at our Indoor Driving School, "If you had $500 to spend, would you put the money into the car or track time?"  The correct answer is quality learning time and experience behind the wheel.

09/14 Dragon Run: Mustang, One And Done?

This was the first road trip for my Mustang: a bit under 1600 miles, including 400 miles to, from, and on the Tail of the Dragon.  I had reservations about the Mustang there: weight and size.  It turned out to be fun.

The steering feel improves closer to the limit and I enjoyed winding lock in and out on the switchbacks.   It's fun to use the torque in a rear-driver to rotate the car.  And it's a fine Lazy Man's Car: my passes were entirely in 2nd gear.  There's enough grunt at 2500 r.p.m. to pull strongly out of low speed corners.  And 2nd tops out a bit over 70 m.p.h.: plenty enough for the few short straights.  The Dragon is more enjoyable in a convertible, especially when you get held up.  Just relax and enjoy the scenery.

The downsides are what you might imagine: weight and suspension.  The car felt as heavy as it is.  After a couple of passes I no longer noticed nose-dive under braking.  But lack of agility and body roll are never far out-of-mind.  On southbound passes, in tight banked corners that quickly flattened into an uphill, I heard the limited-slip go "cht-cht-cht" as the clutches tried to make sense of the rapidly changing available grip.  That never happens in normal road use.  (And the Torsen l.s.d. in my Civic Si just locks up and goes until you back out of the gas.)

Surprisingly, the Mustang's large size was not off-putting.  I had no trouble keeping it in my lane and even hugging the white line to avoid the heavy oncoming traffic.  Again, props to the steering feel when lock is cranked in.  I wasn't pressing as hard as when I'm in the Si.  It did feel like all that weight could get away from me if I did.

The biggest disappointment was the Mustang as a road trip car.  To put it the other way, I've been taking the Si for granted.  The Mustang's ride is harsh and clunky, not firm and controlled like the Si's. (I would willingly put up with harshness if it delivered killer handling, but it doesn't.)  The harsh ride made the trunk spring squeak.  On Interstates the Mustang wanders if you don't hold it in-lane.  Take your eyes off the road for a few seconds in the Si, and it's still where you'd placed it when you look up again.  The 'Stang has found a white line on one side of the lane or the other.

The Mustang's ergonomics could be a lot better.  I've grown accustomed to the Si's digital speedometer display almost in your field of view as you look ahead.  The Si's tach is centered behind the steering wheel.  In the Mustang, you need to take your eyes off the road to read the speedo.  The Civic has good-sized door pockets and cubbyholes in the center stack.  You're never at a loss for places to put your sunglasses, camera, pen and pad, cigarettes, lighter, and coins.  The Mustang's driver door pocket is full when you've put sunglasses and tissues there.  The audio and ventilation controls consume the center stack, and you must take your eyes off the road longer and further to adjust them than in the Civic.  The Mustang's center stack bumps my right knee.  Maneuvering a CD into the changer past the radar detector power cord is near-impossible.  The power outlet in the Si is below the center stack and offset: no problem.  Most of these gripes are a result of Ford giving the Mustang a "retro look" dashboard (the styling of which I do like).

There isn't much to choose between noise levels, which is high in both cars.  In the Mustang, you get road and wind noise; in the Si, engine noise.  The seats in both are uncomfortable after several hours behind the wheel--but in different ways.  Nor is there much to choose between them in gas mileage: the Mustang gets 25-27 and the Si gets 28-30.  The Mustang's mileage is impressive for a 4.6 liter engine, and the lovely V-8 and excellent Tremec 5-speed behind it remain my favorite features of the car.

I'm glad I took the Mustang to the Dragon.  But the Si is more fun in hard passes.

Last Of The Pretty Ferrari Racing Sports Cars (330 P3/4)

Here's another excellent Petrolicious video:

http://www.petrolicious.com/the-ferrari-330-p4-is-one-sexy-beast


The 330 is better, and more fondly, remembered in Europe than over here.  A TV profile of Eric Clapton touched on his love for Ferraris (of which he has owned several).  It included a quick-cut to a model of the 330 P3 that he'd built himself.  Alain de Cadenet did a nice segment on the Equipe Nationale Belge 330P4 in his video series Victory By Design.

Over here, we were cheering on the Ford GT 40--an American car that could beat Europe's best at their own game--LeMans.  It has always seemed to me that Enzo "heard the footsteps" of the 5-liter GT 40 in 1964.  That was why he punched his 12-cylinder engine out to 4.0 liters (the 1965 330 P2) and did a new, evolutionary chassis for 1966--the P3.

What Enzo hadn't counted on (and the merits of which were hotly debated within Ford) was the massive torque of the 7-liter GT 40 Mark II and its successor, the Mark IV.  They dominated LeMans in 1966 and 1967.  As for championships in the P3/P4 era, they split: Ford won in 1966 and Ferrari in 1967.

While I love the looks of both the 330 P3/4 and the GT 40, they do reflect different design approaches. To put it in football terms, the GT 40 Mark II is a fullback, bulling its way downfield; the 330 P3/4 is a wide receiver, running a finesse pattern.

Note: while the Jaguar and Aston Martin factory teams had retired from LeMans by 1960, it was not like Ferrari was "running unopposed."  Maserati and various semi-pro privateer teams contested, and, in those days of unreliable race cars, Porsche was always in with a chance to win if the big cars faltered.  Ford itself was not ready for prime time in 1964 and imploded in 1965.  So Ford's achievement remains impressive.  Under John Wyer, the GT 40 Mark I finally realized its potential.  Then, in 1970, Porsche bent the rules again with the 917K, as Ford had done with the Mark II five years earlier.  But for ten years running, the winning car at LeMans was a Ferrari or a Ford.

YEAR     WINNING CAR                           DRIVERS   
1960         Ferrari 250 TR                         Olivier Gendebien/Paul Frere
1961         Ferrari 250 TR-61                    Olivier Gendebien/Phil Hill
1962         Ferrari 330 TRI/LM              Olivier Gendebien/Phil Hill
1963         Ferrari 250 P                              Ludovico Scarfiotti/Lorenzo Bandini
1964         Ferrari 275 P                              Jean Guichet/Nino Vaccarella
1965         Ferrari 250 P                              Jochen Rindt/Masten Gregory
1966         Ford GT 40 Mark II                 Bruce McLaren/Chris Amon
1967         Ford GT 40 Mark IV                Dan Gurney/A. J. Foyt
1968         Ford GT 40 Mark I                   Pedro Rodriguez/Lucien Bianchi
1969         Ford GT 40 Mark I                   Jacky Ickx/Jackie Oliver
1970          Porsche 917K                              Hans Herrmann/Richard Attwood

British Car Show (2014): The Lotus Post

For 50 years, I've wanted a Lotus.  And for 20 years, more or less, I've been able to afford one.  I looked Elises over at the Chicago Auto Show in 2005.  And bought a Mustang instead.  More bang-for-the-buck, especially in the upper Midwest.  Ahh.... but if I lived in Knoxville, and it was a weekend toy...  In Fantasy World, I still want a Lotus.

Above and below: a tasty Elise.  The owner must have to be as careful about ramps with
his rear diffuser as supercar owners are about their front splitters.

This was one of the most interesting and puzzling cars at the show.  The display card listed it as a "Lotus 15
Custom".  Clearly it is not a fiberglass-bodied kit car: the body is aluminum, fastened in the same places
and in the same ways as the Lotus Elevens and 15's were.  There may be an engine transplant: I don't
recall a hole cut in the hood for induction on the original 15. 

Above and below: an original, street-spec, Lotus 7.  Go find one.  Most of the (rare) street-spec cars were long-ago
converted to race cars.  There was an even older one (1954, I think) at the BCS, with the original front suspension
made from a sawed-in-half-and-pivoted solid axle, but, fool that I am, I didn't get a picture of it.

The (English) Ford Cortina 105E engine that powered later street-spec Lotus Sevens.  This one has been
Cosworth-ized, with Weber carbs.