She's done. Tiger Racing's 2000 season came to a bang up end at Las
Vegas Motor Speedway this month. It was an eventful weekend. Between
meeting up with old friends, learning new interpretations of signal
flags and some serious fender banging, the whole crew was kept busy.
I discovered at Laguna Seca that while tire walls are nicer to hit
than plain concrete, they still do damage. We had to piece the front
end of the car back together before heading back out to the Vegas
race. The rig got to the track on Wednesday evening. Fortunately,
it wasn't too chilly and we had plenty of time to set up the paddock
so that we wouldn't have to be at the track at 5am on Thursday for
the test day. Suprisingly, even after seeing that flub at Monterey,
my mom decided to come to the Vegas race to watch anyway.
Thursday morning I finally got a decent look at the track. It's one
of those big ovals with a squiggle in the middle or what my crew chief
Chris calls a giant, concrete dyno. The way the road course is set
up, we use almost the entire oval. There is an ugly, little chicane
at the end of the front straight leading into the infield. Drivers
immediately assumed that the first turn of the race was going to be
Helish. Other than that, the track looked pretty simple. For an oval,
the banking isn't very high and the infield is flat and easy although
there should be signs posted reading stay off the grass. I didn't
have the pleasure, but a few other drivers related their tales of
skating off across the green. Apparently black ice has more traction
than Nevada lawns do.
Friday morning dawned chill and rainy. I'm not one of those freaks
who likes to drive in the wet, but practice is practice. As it turned
out, it would have been to our advantage to have qualifying during
the rain. A lot of people decided not to run, but of those who did
it appeared that quite a few of their cars were not suited to the
rain. The low end grunt of the Corvettes made them handfuls out there
whereas the Ferrari stayed pointed where I wanted to go as long as
I used a light hand and was smooth transitioning from throttle to
brake and back.
It got pretty wild though. The rain was coming down harder and harder.
Coming thru Turn 4 got more and more interesting as the water got
deeper and ate up the dry line. The wetter it got, the harder the
car was thrown up towards the wall going onto the back straight. Coming
down the front straight it looked look there was a sprinkler system
in the cockpit there was so much water dancing in from both sides,
but the most "refreshing" part of the course had to be Turn 1. The
chicane was interesting enough in the dry, but as soon as it started
raining a puddle formed at the entrance. It was so deep by the end
of the session that even crawling thru there waves of water were cresting
over the doors.
Saturday qualifying was early par usual. Clear and cold weather greeted
us trackside. I was feeling pretty good about the car and the track
when I went out. Rolling out of the pits I ended up in a fast pack
of Corvettes and Sal een Mustangss. To be honest, I didn't really
notice anything, but the number 96 on the back of one those Saleens.
I wanted nothing more than to see that number on the front of his
car... in my rear view mirror. I got my best shot in the infield going
thru Turns 8-11. I took a peek down the inside approaching Turn 10,
but thought I'd hang out for another corner or two before pushing
it. I wanted to stay clean that weekend, but I shouldn't have been
so conservative and taken him when I had the chance because once we
hit that oval his 450 or so ponies just galloped away from me.
I hadn't given up yet and coming around the next lap I was picking
away at my times. Coming down the front straight I caught up with
McClure and Carvajal as they hit their braking points earlier than
I do. I came up between them and we approached Turn 1 going three
wide. I knew the Ferrari could out brake both the Vette and the Mustang,
but I also knew that McClure was more than a couple seconds faster
than me and there was little point in antagonizing him thru the chicane
so I let him slide ahead of me on the outside.
The next thing I knew I was spinning frantically up the banking towards
the wall. I had time to think, "Damn, dad is never going to let me
go to San Diego now!" Luckily, the car stopped a few feet short of
the concrete, but the car died. Sliding downhill, trying to get the
car restarted, looking around for the best way back onto the track
and trying to radio to my crew chief was a bit of a juggle, but I
got it going. I was out on the oval so I had to reenter thru the escape
road. On my way past Turn 2 I noticed a red, white and blue Corvette
sitting on the inside of the track. I couldn't figure out how we had
managed to hit each other so hard, but didn't have time to dwell on
it as I limped around to the pits. I told Chris over the radio that
I was pretty sure I had a flat tire as any input thru the wheel sent
the back end fishtailing wildly. There was smoke coming out the back,
which turned out to be from a tire rubbing and when I got to our pit,
Chris just grinned at me and agreed that it was indeed a flat tire.
The crew changed tires, checked the rest of the car and sent me out
again. My best qualifying time was still more than a second slower
than my best practice time.
I was talking to Paul Brown after the session when Steve Carvajal
came up and asked me why I'm out to get him. He was the lucky guy
who managed to squeak past me without getting collected up when I
spun across the track directly in front of him at Laguna Seca. The
close call during this qualifying session had got his heart pounding
too. I told him that if he just stayed still and let me hit him, we
could get it over with and move on. What I wanted to know was what
had really happened out there. Steve told us that there was a fourth
car going into that corner that I had never seen. Another Corvette
had come around on the apron and then come up onto the oval headed
straight for my rear driver's wheel. What Chris had been grinning
about in the pits when I said I thought I had a flat tire was the
fact that my wheel had been destroyed. A piece of the metal as big
as my hand was twisted backwards into the rubber, a good five inches
around looked shredded and the other side was dented in an inch and
more. I never did get a chance to see the other driver's car, but
I'm still curious as to what kind of industrial strength cheese grater
he's got on that thing.
Later in the day, we had a long driver's meeting wherein a new rule
was established. No passing under yellow. Yeah, I know. Sound familiar
right? The European guys thought so too. Derek Bell pointed out that
the first thing he learned when he strapped into a race car was what
those pretty flags mean. Anyway, it was firmly established in that
meeting that one car zipping past another when anyone standing near
the race course was waving a yellow strip of cloth was a seriously
bad idea.
A bright spot for the weekend was Dad's friend Jerry from Wisconsin
showing up loaded down with genuine Midwestern brautwurst and sauerkraut!
Lunch was a feast and we shared with some hungry stragglers. In thanx
for the brauts, I offered Jerry a ride with me on the presentation
lap before the race. He was excited at that. At the end of the day
we watched the Touring Car race. Within the first five minutes there
was a full course yellow which at least four driver's promptly ignored.
So forget what I said about that new rule.
Sunday morning, race day, was crisp and clear. Inching up to your
spot on the grid, there's always a tense moment. You take a few deep
breaths, flex your hands on the wheel, scan your gauges, get a feel
for your brakes and then every sensory apparatus you have becomes
focused on a single point in time - the moment when the green flag
drops.
The lights went out, I pulled full throttle and felt the power feed
to the rear end. The tires bit into the asphalt like steel claws and
the Ferrari leapt forward. I sprinted past five or six cars like they
were standing still. In fact, I was moving up through the pack so
quickly that I almost radioed to Chris to ask if I had jumped the
start, but I realized that wasn't the case. It was just one of those
times where all your thoughts and actions flow together to create
a perfect moment. With the feeling of 400 horses surging behind me,
I could see a clear path threaded through the cars around me and I
heard nothing but the screaming whine of that awesome Ferrari V8 crying
out at full song. I'm not sure if I was grinning like a mad woman,
but I know that I was thinking that this is the essence of life. This
is why I'm here.
And then the thunder of the pack came crashing back through my awareness.
The smell of smoke from brakes and tires locking up and the sounds
of all that other horsepower took my attention ahead to the mass of
cars that was moving past the first corner. For once, we appeared
to have a clean start with the leaders pulling a steady stream of
competitors around the oval and towards Turn 5 leading into the infield.
I battled the next nine laps corner by corner, car by car. I would
gain a positon/lose a position, but most importantly I was staying
clean. Well, except for that one shoulder rub thru the chicane that
I shared with yet another Corvette. Ya know, I never would have thought
there was room for two cars to go thru there together. Who knew?
It was on the ninth lap that I came thru Turns 1 to 3 swapping positions
with a couple of other cars. I ended up on the back straight with
a red C4 Corvette. He almost squeaked by me once, but had to back
off. He gave it another shot and was coming up on me as we approached
Turn 5. He was on the inside and I remember looking at him wondering
what he thought he was doing. He was way past his braking point and
quickly approaching mine, so I figured that the corner really wasn't
worth it and I made sure he had plenty of room since I was pretty
sure that he didn't have the brakes that were needed for where he
was. My car actually got a little loose under braking and I went even
farther to the outside of the turn when suddenly my head smacked the
roll cage and the car spun off into the dirt. Apparently his brakes
were even less adequate than I had thought and he T-boned me right
behind the driver's door and then when I spun around he smacked into
my front end just for the Hel of it.
I got her collected underneath me and back on track in short order,
but something was off. A lap or so later Chris came over the radio
and asked me about my temps. I realized that she was fast approaching
a rolling boil and limped around into the pits again. Turns out that
the corner workers and some other drivers had noticed my car puking
fluid onto the track and contacted my crew. That hit had busted a
hole in one of my radiators and she was running dry after less than
a lap. There was nothing more we could do. I sat in the pit lane watching
the other cars go round and round and thinking that maybe I should
do my best to avoid Corvettes for awhile.
So that's how Tiger Racing's 2000 season ended. Vegas wasn't all
that hot this November, but it was enough to cook the motor in our
355F1. McMillin won the championship, but for this race the Audi driven
by Galati led the race from pole to finish. My friends Paul Brown
and Tommy Safar finished 13th and 28th respectively and my finish
was officially logged as 41st, two spots better than where I started.
Technically I didn't "lose" the race since I wasn't the first one
out.
I have a very good feeling about next season. The first race is in
March at Texas Motor Speedway. The car should be fine tuned by then.
All the harshness of this season washed away and a new coat of paint
polished bright enough to blind the spectators in the Dallas sunlight.
Race car drivers are a breed apart. Self-centered and single minded
with a determination to do one thing.... race to win. We are only
a few weeks into the winter season now. It hasn't been long at all
since most of us were strapped into our machines, but all the drivers
I've talked to are already champing at the bit, waiting for the next
time the red lights go out and the green flag drops...
See you at the races, next season.
Carol Hollfelder
