[NOBBC] LEMONS UPDATE

[David Willson]

I have to echo Clif's sentiment - Thunderhill was one of the biggest thrills
of my life.  As was Sears Point this past Spring, which was even scarier
because of the driving rain.  Even though I went out for several laps on
open practice track Friday, to get familiar with the track and the newly
fixed up car, on Saturday before my turn behind the wheel, I had enough
butterflies in my stomach that I was sitting there feeling nauseous.   But
that immediately disappeared when I accelerated out the merge lane and into
the fray.  There's a *lot* of cars out there and driving solo, with  no one
close, only happens occasionally.  It takes a couple of laps to settle into
a rhythm and work up to a speed where I can start to sense the limits of the
car - the tires starting to squall and drift a bit and brakes starting to
get hot.  But then comes the 'Zone' where thoughts mostly disappear and that
instantaneous body sense takes over.  There is some thinking: there's a
slower car ahead and a faster one behind while coming into a corner so which
side should I pass on to maximize my exit speed for the next straight?  But
often, there's little time for analyzing and my hands and feet follow my
gut.  Eyes are for seeing what's happening all around and staying out of
trouble, but it's that body sense that tells me how fast I can go and how
hard I can push the car's limits.

Living in that Zone for a few hours is what I pay all that money and time
for.  

Plus, I guess, the fantastic thrill of making a clean pass of somebody with
a faster car because they chose the wrong line.  Or drafting a faster car.
Or working through a traffic jam at 80 mph with cars a foot away on either
side and I'm so close to the car in front of me that I can't see his rear
end while I try to find a way around him.  Or wheel to wheel back and forth
racing with another car of equal capability.  Or the exhausted joy I felt
Sunday afternoon after we'd actually finished our first race.  I slept the
sleep of the dead Sunday night.

Our car, as mediocre as it is (and the judges agree that we can never make a
Mustang like ours into a real winner), is finally getting sorted out.  Most
of the improvements are now made so now it's little tweaks and, I suppose,
building up a stash of spares for when stuff breaks.  Because stuff always
breaks.  But at Thunderhill, we'd worked our way up from 120th to 42nd
before things started to go wrong so it's handling pretty damn good for the
underpowered pig that it is.  

'Cept that we got soundly beat by a minivan driven by an old lady.  But
that's another story.

David