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Isle of Man

To: Gerald Brazil <gerrybraz@voyager.net>
Subject: Isle of Man
From: David Laver <dlaver@ms.com>
Date: Tue, 06 Oct 1998 10:49:56 +0100
Gerald Brazil wrote:

> The Thickos a bad influence? Hardly! We have more fun for less money than
> any other group in vintage racing. Let The Gold Chain boys have their
> catered buffets under a white tent with white wine and Brie. We'll have a
> chunk of Wisconsin Cheddar and a beer, Eh!
>
> GJB

You make me proud to carry the stickers.  Alas I've yet to recruit any UK
Thickos but I'm trying.  Nearly got the guy in an MGA with 'Viagra Special'
on the back but he hadn't heard of the internet.

One of the many highlights of my trip to the Isle of Man was entering my 40%
primer, 10% chips and dents car in the Concours D'Elegance.  The local
organisers thought it a hoot (the Isle of Man is a magical place).  The
people over from Ireland refused to believe I was English.  The other racers
who had entered smiled a little.  The TRUE concourse entrants were more than
a little sniffy as I backed the car in belching oily exhaust fumes over them
and their cars.  Gave them an excuse to get the duster out again.

As a taste of what the Isle of Man is about - they have a 69 club for cars
that flip on the closed-roads Williston circuit.  My race day session was red
flagged when a car flipped.  The driver walked away but an ambulance was
needed for a spectator.  I later found out the spectator only got knocked
over by another leaping clear, then I was worried to hear she was a lady in
her 70s, then relieved to hear she had formed the spectators 69 club as she
ended up on her head.  Apparently she blamed herself for standing behind
someone so nervous.

Another crazyness of the place is the first corner.  Tigers were being timed
at 145+ past the police station still accelerating.  Braking is down hill
over some nasty bumps.  The corner is tight and blind with bumps, a stone
wall on the inside, and a PETROL STATION on the outside.  I stood in the
petrol station to watch the fast cars.  An E-Type hit four feet in front of
me, one of the Tigers routinely brushed the bails and hopped the kerbs.  An
Aston swiped a bail so hard it jumped 6 feet.

I won my class for the seafront sprint.  They have chicannes over wet tram
tracks outside the big pubs to liven things up.  The chicannes are like the
speed restrictions near my house so I felt at home and the dog had his day.
Alas was up against some pretty hot race prepared cars on super sticky tyres
so a bit outclassed elsewhere.  Got some nice photos in the post yesterday
with inside wheels at funny angles and the outside ones tucked under the
arches.  Maybe some progressive bump stops are in order, or put the narrow
tyres on and drift a bit more.

Driving highlight was the hillclimb of about a mile and a half up a
mountain.  The top bends eventually were taken flat out - turn in point is
when you can't see any more road, just sky.  Would have needed a search and
rescue team to find you if late or over keen with those ones...

Perhaps the whole event was a Thicko Special.  Parties everynight.  The best
one being the marshalls party (corner workers).  Even had a drink at the end
of the week with a policeman I met manning a road closure.  The Island LOVES
motorsport.  Stamps and coins have cars and bikes on.  NO early nights all
week.

The end of week race meeting was a mellow wind down after all the public road
antics.  No drivers briefing - they said it was safer for people to sleep off
the previous night.  Sign on and scruitneering the previous afternoon leaving
the previous event.  Scruitneers prep your car for you !!  He had rolls of
various coloured tape to mark the earth lead, tow hitch, etc and wrote me a
long list of 'advise' items.  My acceptance letter started with 'thankyou for
your entry' and I left the Island with a nice little contribution to costs.

Given how the police and 70 year old ladies love their motorsport you can
guess what the garages are like.  A vistor from Nevada went into a hedge so
hard the back wheels were off the ground.  A garage rebuilt the front end for
free, competitors gave wheels and tyres, and he raced the next day.  When an
Austin A35 waterpump exploded and ripped holes in the rad and inner wing news
of an A35 in a scrap yard to the north of the Island was back in the paddock
before the car.  The yard was shut when he got up there but the plumber next
door knew a man in his street with one which was leant for the week.  The
price ?  A set of event stickers for his son's push kart.  I was lucky to
bash my exhaust over some bumps.  Lucky because they refused to let me leave
their garage without straight pipes.  Lovely noise and little pops of flame
on overrun.  Repaired in time for my drive home.

Next year they'll be a Thicko village, a party to shame the marshalls, and a
Flounder's Spoon for the concours and a Cheetin' Dog award for whoever wins
the most events.  Then again no one cared about specs and eligablity -
cheetin's a bit of a problem in a mellow run what you brung event where
noise, incidents, near misses, heroic rebuilds, flame pops, and parties are
the memories.

David




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