Monterey notes, part 2

[Scott Fisher <sefisher@domain.elided>]

When Henrik left to go to the wine tasting, my feet were getting sore
(I hadn't sat down all day), and I was giving thought to going home.  
I had a snack and a cold beverage (a Sprite, of course, it being the 
only available drink named after a sports car) and enjoyed the covered 
picnic tables not far from the Alfa corral while the Audi/Auto Union 
cars did another demonstration lap (I'd already taken almost an entire 
roll of film of their first turn on course).

I looked over the program, thinking yet again that it might be a good
time to head out to the Spider and try to beat the worst of the traffic
home.  But the next race was the one with the pair of GTZs in it, as
well as a TZ-2, which although gorgeous and rare doesn't yank on my
heartstrings with quite the intensity of the original TZ -- but neither
does much else.  A handful of cars could make me consider selling the
Spider if it was the only way I could manage the funds to purchase them;
fewer still could make me consider selling the 105 GT Junior.  The TZ is
one of those.

On the warm-up lap, then I found myself back at the photographer's
loop-hole in the catch fencing at the exit of Turn 2, maybe the one
place on track where you can get closest to the cars as they slide by. 
This was quite a field, mostly white-and-blue GT-350s, a selection of
289 Cobras, a fleet of Corvettes, at least two Jaguar E Types, a Cobra
Daytona Coupe, the three TZs with a smattering of Porsche 904s in among
them, a green and yellow Lotus Seven, and OH MY GOD THERE'S MY CAR! 
Yes, a step-front, AR501 Alfa Red, 105 series Giulia coupe, this one
with those pop-top doorhandles and the extra cooling vents where the
front bumper would be that signified it was a GTA.  

The GTA and the Lotus Seven (which make up two of the probably five cars
I've lusted after more fiercely than any others for some 35 years now)
then proceeded to put on a vivid definition of the phrase "going at it
hammer and tongs."  The Lotus' light weight seemed to give it an
advantage going up the hill from turn 11, as you could barely see the
top of the rollbar when it would lead the GTA down from the crest of the
start-finish straight into turn 1 and, finally, the braking area for 2. 
The GTA would close up under braking and I could see the driver trying
to get a nose in under the Lotus' left rear wheel, trying lap after lap
to get the necessary head of steam to take the Lotus at the exit. 
They'd fly out of 2 right past me as though welded together, the GTA
would jink to the other side and try to set up for a pass in the
right-hander that follows, then they'd both disappear from view (but not
from hearing) into the short chute under the Dunlop bridge.  (I have no
idea what tire company actually has its name on that bridge, and it
doesn't matter; it's the Dunlop Bridge.)

A few laps from the end, the Seven managed to slip under one of the
GT-350s during late braking into turn 2; the GTA couldn't quite pull it
off, and harried the white-and-blue Mustang through the horseshoe and
into the short straight at the exit.  The Lotus was getting away!  Can't
the Mustang driver SEE that?  The GT-350 was driving right down the
middle of the road, the Alfa was shifting left, right, looking for a
little room to slip past the Shelby and keep the pressure on the Lotus;
the three of them disappeared again and I was left in suspense for
another minute or so.

And then there they were, once again nose to tail coming into 2, the
Alfa drifting a little wide this time at the exit to try for an outside
pass, but the lighter Seven could keep the tighter line and stay ahead
of the Alfa.  A few more laps of this and sadly, the checker finally
fell with the Alfa still behind the Lotus.  But it was the most exciting
race of the day for me.

The last race couldn't hope to have that much excitement for me, so I
started crossing the track knowing I could see much of the action as I
made my way out to the shuttle back to my parking area.  As I walked
down a row in the paddock, I saw that familiar shape, the perfect flow
of roof to fender to trunk to tail, and I walked a little quicker,
hoping to chat with the driver and tell him how much I enjoyed his race.

So I looked for the driver, saw someone with a driving suit half-off,
arms tied around the waist and a Nomex turtleneck on top... and is that
a *bra strap* under the Nomex?  Sure enough, this wasn't someone I could
tell how much I enjoyed *his* race, but I was sure *she* would enjoy 
hearing it just as much.

"So are you the driver I was cheering for in the GTA?" I asked as I
walked up.  She was; we chatted for a few minutes about the events on
track.  "I noticed that the GT-350 that got between you and the Lotus
wasn't there the next time around... which direction did that car end
up?"

She jerked her thumb behind her as she swigged on a bottle of water.  "I
tried to set him up for a pass in the Corkscrew, but couldn't quite make
it, so in the next turn coming under the bridge he was driving right
down the middle of the track, and I passed him on the outside."

Wow, I thought, you've got more cojones than I have, but I didn't say
it.  The picture that I've got as Windows wallpaper at the moment is of
me in the EP MGB in turn 9 at Laguna, and what that picture doesn't show
is the degree to which my entire body is puckered up in that corner. 
It's one of the two places that intimidated me the most at Laguna, for
some reason: you're moving at a good clip if you've had a clean run out
of the Corkscrew, the ground is still falling away from you fairly
rapidly, it looks off-camber (though I've been told it isn't), but worst
of all you have to start your turn-in at a place where you can't see the
apex, and you have to apex at a point where you can't see the exit, and
you just have to hope that the world hasn't suddenly shifted on you
during the last time you were by here.  I remember coming through the
short straight as hard as my failing motor would let me and swearing on
the graves of all the great English racing drivers that this time
through 9 I wouldn't lift, I'd just steer the damn thing if it meant
sliding off into the dirt at the exit.  And every time, when the car
would get light after the apex and I'd start drifting off to the right
before I could even see where the track was going, and inside my helmet
I'd be saying "I won't lift I won't lift I won't lift OH GOD I'M GOING
TO DIE I HAVE TO LIFT dammit, you lifted, you rotten miserable..." and
I'd try to make up for it by diving into the much faster, probably much
more dangerous, but somehow less frightening turn 10 at full throttle
(which, in that car, wasn't much).  So for me, it was very impressive 
to hear that she'd pulled off an outside pass in turn 9.  

I admired the car a bit more and asked, "Okay, car-geek question:
engine?"

"It's a 1750," she said with a little laugh, "and other than that I
don't know any of the details."  That's all right; if a 1750 can make
enough power to make a pass on a GT-350 in turn 9 and make it stick,
that's good enough for me.  Now I guess it's time to call APE and
see what their stock is like... let's see, if I get a bellhousing 
from a GTV with floor-mounted pedals and the mechanical clutch
linkage, everything will just bolt in, right?

- --Scott Fisher
  1974 Spider Veloce
  1967 GT 1300 Junior (maybe with a 1750 soon?)

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End of alfa-digest V7 #1012
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