Fellow FOTers,
It's Thursday and I almost forgot to report in.
Last weekend I towed my trailer full of tires(4) and motorcycle(1) behind
'ole #196 (TR-4) up to Road Atlanta for the HSR Vintage Race. With
windshield removed, tires swapped and flotsam removed from trunk and
passenger area, I qualified pretty well on Friday.
In Saturday's Enduro I turned the second fastest time in class. But
because of an unfortunate little black flag incident, I finished in third
place. First place went to an MGB and second to a P-word 914.
In the sprint race Sunday, MA (mother attrition) had reduced our class of
14 to a field of about 8. I finished 5th and felt fine about it. Alan
Pinel had his TR-4 there and turned the fastest qualifying times in our
class and was, naturally, gridded first. But something must have gone awry
early in the race because he didn't finish.
It was a beautiful north Georgia weekend. Think Ray Charles and "Georgia on
My Mind." I raced about to the limit of my ability and my little red car
did just fine. Hugely important, I nudged out the P-word in the sprint
race and still got to take home a little piece of shiny (from the Enduro)
to put on my somewhat barren trophy shelf.
I hesitate to admit it, but this modest trophy means an awful lot to me.
No, it was not won by the conspicuous skill of the driver, nor by the
blazing speed of the car (for neither really exists). It was earned by
simple bullheaded doggedness and determination of an old goat who made up
his mind to race in a fashion which doesn't offer much opportunity for the
recognition of achievement. To most of you guys it's a small trophy. And
of course, that's all it really is, a small trophy. But to me it is a
pyrotechnic vindication of many years of skeptical looks concerning a
somewhat unorthodox MO of sports car racing
Yes, you fast guys will always look askance at those of us back there who
drive our cars to the racetrack and just plug along. But just remember.
Old Aesop was here before you were, and he'll be here after all you Hare's
have gotten the last checkered flag at the last finish line.
Just for the record, last weekend was my 10th sprint race (plus 8 Enduros)
in the TR-4. Some might call this 18 events. Add to this thousands (+7)
of miles driving to and from the races ranging from Daytona to Mid-Ohio
(whilst towing the trailer). My next race (or roadside event) may be my
first DNF. But, I hesitate to admit it, I believe that my old car and I
have a bond which will get us both through a few more events in sterling
fashion. We're not invincible, but we're strong.
Sure. You fast guys will continue to blow our doors off every time you
breeze on by. But just remember, there are a few of us out there who have
terrific sets of mirrors, an inordinate amount of patience, and Aesop
looking after our best interests.
When you put 'ole Aesop and us in your mirrors, just don't think about
relaxin'. 'Cus we're gonna get chou!
Richard Taylor
TR-4 #196
Atlanta
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