Words and photos by Warren Madsen
Dec. 28-30, 2007
I guess you'd have to blame Jay Lamm for the cold. Even after the blazing hot and dry days of summer subside in the wide and empty valley of Northern California the last days of December are just as unbearable. It is freezing...well not quite, but 38 degrees with fog and mist do nothing to convince you it's any better than snowing, and Mr Lamm's (24 Hours of LeMons creator) sense of humor is at fault. The forecast for Willows calls for rain too- so we've got that going for us, which is nice. The only question is: what the hell are we doing here?
Earlier that day, we awoke at 4:30 am and left Santa Cruz for the 4 hour drive to Thunderhill Park Raceway, a few miles from Hwy 5 outside the sprawling metropolis of the aforementioned Willows. With us we have our support vehicle; a packed-to-the-brim Volvo 850 Turbo Wagon. Our Nissan Frontier (NISMO edition, mind you) is towing a heavy duty trailer. Strapped to it our track weapon: the #44 Team Santa Cruz Driving While Awesome 1985.5 Porsche 944. And you thought Rolls Royce Phantom Drop Head Coupe was a long name. We have come to battle the fellow crap cans in a race-what-ya-brung endurance challenge known as the 24 Hours of LeMons...and we are amped!
Dec. 28-30, 2007
I guess you'd have to blame Jay Lamm for the cold. Even after the blazing hot and dry days of summer subside in the wide and empty valley of Northern California the last days of December are just as unbearable. It is freezing...well not quite, but 38 degrees with fog and mist do nothing to convince you it's any better than snowing, and Mr Lamm's (24 Hours of LeMons creator) sense of humor is at fault. The forecast for Willows calls for rain too- so we've got that going for us, which is nice. The only question is: what the hell are we doing here?
Earlier that day, we awoke at 4:30 am and left Santa Cruz for the 4 hour drive to Thunderhill Park Raceway, a few miles from Hwy 5 outside the sprawling metropolis of the aforementioned Willows. With us we have our support vehicle; a packed-to-the-brim Volvo 850 Turbo Wagon. Our Nissan Frontier (NISMO edition, mind you) is towing a heavy duty trailer. Strapped to it our track weapon: the #44 Team Santa Cruz Driving While Awesome 1985.5 Porsche 944. And you thought Rolls Royce Phantom Drop Head Coupe was a long name. We have come to battle the fellow crap cans in a race-what-ya-brung endurance challenge known as the 24 Hours of LeMons...and we are amped!
I was a late addition to the DWA team, since one of the founding members, Misha Varshavsky, had booked a trip to Russia during the same time period. But once I was asked to be a driver I jumped at the opportunity. I had been intrigued by the LeMons concept since their first race at Altamont and I have had the racing itch as long as I can remember. The only problem was that the steps to racing greatness are seemingly only realized with huge, overflowing coffers of cash...something us twenty-somethings don't keep around very long. So during my youth I kept to the Santa Cruz Mountains in my rough GTI, occasional go karts and video games. Schumi needn't worry.
But that was suddenly about to change. I was getting ready to race a real sports car, on a legit race track, against semi-competent opponents- some much more serious than others- and it hit me like a head-on collision.
The Friday practice session placed me first on the track. For this event we'd be keeping to the short eastern loop of Thunderhill, which incorporates the awesome turn 5 "Cyclone"- their answer to Laguna Seca's Corkscrew. You drive out of a quick right to left combination and power straight up the equivalent of a 3 story building. As you crest the summit, you hit a sharp left turn and drop into a roller coaster downhill right sweeper; so off-camber it feels as though you're being sucked to the infield. Very rad, and yes- I spun the car half way around on my first attempt. In my defense, it was my first lap on a wet track that I'd never seen before and, truthfully I had no clue. I was in the wrong gear and missed the braking zone as I was juuust outside the preferred racing line. What?
Do that during the race and I'd have 90 cars speeding at me head-on. I kept it on the asphalt, recovered quickly and never made that mistake again.
The "shanty town" as we called it,next to our Italian neighbors.
Did I mention it was cold?
The car felt really good. We had little prep time prior to arriving at the track so we used our ticking clock wisely. Geoff "Haywire" Hayford got cooking on installing our impressive (or awesome?) aftermarket lights we required since the original units were removed for the previous two races which took place in the light of day. A dashboard mounted household light switch served well as our super trick toggle. Another item we'd wish remained were the windshield wipers. Rain-X was going to earn it's keep this weekend. Lane Skelton, Bryan "Practice" McQueen, Connor Welles and myself moved onto replacing the cap and rotor, plugs, performing a quick oil change, and "improving" some fender gaps and body panels and swapping the rear wheels and tires. Along with some assorted odds and ends, the car was ready for tech inspection.
We squeaked past the prying eyes of the "white wigs" who valued our car at under $500 (a strict LeMons requirement, not including all safety equipment) and after some haggling, we were also deemed race worthy by the tech inspector. Don't ask me how. Jay Lamm stopped by for a look at our car and gave an eerie nod in that "you have no chance in hell" kind of way. One can hardly blame him. So with a sticker on the window and a shake of the hand we were ready to roll.
The race began at 1:15 on Saturday, and Lane Skelton is our lead-off batter. A rolling start determines the racing order randomly and at the first announcement of positions we are in 11th place out of 80. SWEET! Only need 10 spots over the next 14 hours, no prob. The best way to describe this type of racing is comparing it to a marathon- not a sprint. The guys from Jalopnik take a gander at our our pit area and ask us what we think our chances of winning are. I throw out 6 to 1 odds, and I feel that's pretty accurate. The previous winners have all been boring, four cylinder econo boxes- rewarded for staying on track and completing lap after lap while not necessarily being "fast". We knew that was the goal but the 944 is a capable race car and we soon felt confident we could catch and pass all but a few teams in the field. So staying on track was important, but doing it quickly was our style and it was working.
Queuing up in the pit area before race start.Our "Vans" shoe themed Porsche 944 warms up.
The track was damp but it never actually rained and soon a dry racing line began to slowly reveal itself. Our biggest fear was getting in trouble and ending up off in the deep muddy clay at the edge of the racing surface. Get stuck in there and you'd have to wait for a yellow flag and hope they send a tow truck for you. If the yellow never comes, you sit and lose valuable laps. If any of us landed in the thick stuff, we agreed to fine ourselves $50 as a deterrent. Trouble was, nothing would stop other drivers from throwing mud and dirt along the track at every turn. This only added to the fun as we kept the rear wheels from snapping loose, lap after lap.
3:00 pm- Bryan McQueen takes over after a quick gas fill-up. Fast, aggressive and familiar with the Porsche, Bryan makes few errors and hands the car over to Geoff Hayford at 4:30. We check the oil, change the tape in the in-car camera and get him back out as fast as possible...only to encounter a long red flag which stops all cars on track. His hour and a half LeMons duty flies by and I'm up next. It's completely dark as Geoff exits to pit lane.
6:00 pm- Warren Madsen: refueled and strapped in. I enter the race in slow motion. It's like diving into an abyss. The track has few lights and my rear view mirrors are merely ornamental at this point. Cars that are deep into a racing groove scream past me. Keep in mind I haven't been in the driver's seat since my 10 practice laps which were in the daylight, without a race in progress. I remind myself of the marathon metaphor as I get a few laps under my belt and increase the tempo. I suddenly find myself mixed up with a quick group of rear wheel drive cars- a Miata, an RX-7 and an E30 BMW. Each car takes advantage at certain parts of the course as we exchange positions for a few laps. One of the big-bodied cars, probably the old Plymouth Fury or circle track Firebird/Camaro, must have blown through the tire chicane at the end of the front straight making it wide enough for every car (so long as the driver is inclined) to go flat out down the straight until race officials replaced the chicane. By calculating with our friends in the Alfetta, the 944 is pushing past 115 mph entering turn 1.
With tires squealing, you exit the left sweeper and rise over a crest as you lose all forward vision before heading down hill for #2- a long, dark left turn. Since the 944 is able to take advantage of it's long-legged potential with the track being faster now, I catch the RX-7 that had frustrated me earlier. I enter turn 2 on the inside and slightly hot, as I try to overtake the Mazda next to me. Suddenly, as my lights catch up to where the 944's nose is pointing, I see the entire track has been covered in dirt. Clumps of grass and mud are all over the place from an accident at the darkest part of the track and it's too late to make any corrections to avoid it. All traction breaks and I instantly start a full spin, take my foot off the gas and steer into it as well as I could. I'll never forget the sight of that RX-7 next to me as we careened sideways around the apex and braced for impact. Remarkably, and with total luck, we somehow managed to get things in line, avoid each other and stay on the asphalt. With that shake of the nerves and the rush of adrenaline that accompanied it, I tip toe back to the pits still in one piece. My stint is over.
7:40 pm- Connor Welles grabs the reins and blasts down pit lane to finish day one strong. He only completes a few laps before a Datsun B210 runs wide and exits turn one on his roof. The race is stopped for over 20 minutes with all cars parked on track. The driver of the Datsun walks away and once the wreckage is cleared the action resumes. At 8:55 the checkered flag waives, the session is over and we are sitting in 8th place.
We join the degenerates gathered in the track meeting room and pass around a bottle of Absolut Citron vodka (lemon, get it?) as we celebrate an early new year and our top ten position heading into the final day of racing.
Day Two. The track opened at 7:00 am and we arrived shortly after. The sunrise looked promising since none of the doom and gloom seemed to carry over from Saturday; still the thermometer hovered near the upper 30's. We gassed-up the 944 and walked to the drivers meeting. Jay preached of more robust tire chicanes and double penalties for hitting them- even brushing them meant a mandatory black flag. We listened anxiously and got ready for the race to restart.
Our driving order stayed the same for day two, so at 9:13 am Lane Skelton heads out.
9:40- Lane is hit hard by the #53 Mazda RX-7 from behind. We get word from Lane that something is wrong with the car and he's waived the mechanical black flag meaning he must clear the track for repairs. No track workers witnessed the contact. Once in the pit area we scramble to see what's wrong; the muffler hangs on the pavement below. Just as we look at each other and wonder how in the world we'd fix it, a mystery man appears and hands us a long piece of metal bracketing- the perfect band aid- and he disappears. A LeMons miracle.
9:52- the Porsche returns to racing action. Only 12 minutes lost on what could have been a major set back. Lane never leaves the driver's seat.
10:20- Bryan McQueen gets into the Kirkey aluminum race seat and 5-point harness, adjust his "racing pillows" and takes off.
10:30- ten minutes in and the 944 is again slammed from behind at the top of the Cyclone by the #20 Subaru Impreza of Team Festivus. Bryan is spun and trapped facing the wrong direction as 80 cars pass him before he's able whip it back around and continue. As LeMons rules dictate, both drivers of an incident are black flagged (whether your fault or not) and a mandatory change of drivers is required (to avoid retaliation apparently). Bryan is pissed but to avoid losing more time we rush the switch as quickly as possible. Later, through race officials, the #20 team apologized for the incident and took full responsibility. Our car is undamaged.
10:35- Geoff Hayford hastily rushes to action and drives smoothly without being crashed into. A real bonus at this point.
11:38- Bryan gets back in the car and reels off our fastest lap; a 1:16:447. The field has thinned with nearly a third of the cars that began having been sidelined by all imaginable mechanical problems. With that advantage, and the anger of having his earlier turn behind the wheel cut short, Bryan keeps us on the leader board.
12:48- Bryan returns the car to the pits and we run to the gas pumps for our final refill. But, for some reason, the pumps are not working. After 15 minutes of frustration, while hearing cars lap the track in the background, I jump in and head to pit road with enough gas for the remaining laps. 5 mph never felt so slow.
A face only a mother could love.The hood is off only temporarily.
Turn 5 looms in the background...
1:00- I'm comfortable in the car now and during the day; the Porsche is humming and the track is perfect. I'm able to pass all but the fastest cars out there and I even get into long lasting battles with a nasty Taurus SHO, a turbo-spinning SAAB and an E30 BMW. The latter helped illustrate NASCAR's "rubbin' is racin" way of life as we scraped and traded sheet metal for a lap or two. Way too much fun! When I finish my one hour shift, we sit in 13th place. Even after the repairs, black flags and the gas mishap- we're still in contention.
2:00- Connor closes it out. The race track is fast and clear now and only the most robust cars remain. Connor compiles the most consistent lap times of the entire race and as an exclamation, passes our nemesis BMW 325i with only minutes remaining.
At 3:05 pm the checkered flies and we are done and spent. That pass though turns out to be the most important move of the race- we finish in 10th place and claim the title of "Fastest Krautwagen" or the fastest German car- just ahead of that very BMW! Also, we earned one single championship point for Porsche. They wanted to send a camera crew from Stuttgart and flower wreaths, but we declined. Didn't think it would befit the spirit of the race, of course.
Lane Skelton, Connor Welles,
Bryan McQueen, Warren Madsen and
Geoff Hayford from left to right
hold up the "44" after their top ten finish.
The 944 held up incredibly and it looked only a little worse for wear. I have a soft spot in my heart for this beat-up and battered race car, as does the rest of the team. We drove back down the state with our heads held high, but something strange happened. After enduring 14 hours of racing in the icy Winter, sleeping 6 to a room, eating a nitrate filled diet and smelling of oil and gas...we were sad to leave. Until next year- adios Thunderhill!
Looking for more info?
http://www.24hoursoflemons.com/
http://jalopnik.com/tag/thunderhill-lemons/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfrCRTiRfGo
