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Sandblast 2001 For Lina Racing, the Sandhills Sandblast rally was a completely draining weekend filled with hot conditions, repair, parts fabrication, staying up late, and a podium finish. The results, in addition to the good times and all the laughing we did, make all the work worthwhile. The truck was in pretty good shape after the Cherokee Trails and Ski Sawmill rallies earlier this year. So minor maintenance was all that was needed. It was especially good finishing Ski Sawmill with the truck intact, as Sandblast was only two weeks afterward. The day before the race, crew chief Jeff Denton and crew member Matt Clayton met up with me, Anders Green, for some pre-race preparation. We did some modifications and maintenance to "Vantro", our service and tow vehicle, and finished up packing. Besides if it doesn't involve air powered rotary cutting tools, how much fun could it be? Cheraw, South Carolina, is only a hundred and ten miles from Cary, North Carolina. So we weren't too worried about leaving a little later than the estimated one o'clock. Eric Alimena, my co-driver, didn't know anything about this. He is based in Atlanta, and although he had a longer drive to get to Cheraw, he had left earlier. When he arrived at the rally with us nowhere to be found, he was a little concerned. We were on route at the time, and, well, let's just say that Sprint PCS nationwide digital coverage doesn't necessarily include Cognac, NC. We arrived, registered, and breezed through the tech inspection. One very nice feature of the layout of this particular rally is that the tech area is actually next door to HQ. Definitely a low stress, casual setup. One of the inspectors commented, "Hmm, looks like you've been through this before." I can only assume that this was not due to some pained facial expression and rather a thorough preparation job on the vehicle and paperwork. The usual meeting and greeting went on at Inn Cheraw, Rally HQ. We ran into friends from past rallies, including Greg Healey (Healeymonster!) from whom we purchased our original race truck. He also had a little present: free wheels! We spotted Randy Zimmer, who runs a Subaru Impreza, and he was in a cheerful mood as always. Mary E. and Carl Fisher were milling around registration. Would a rally on the east coast be complete without them? Turns out that they had "volunteered" (simply by showing up as the most qualified people) to be leading the worker training seminar. Lucky! Gathered up the posse and headed down to Day's Inn, which seemed to have even more ralliers than HQ! Quickly spied the kidney bean shaped mini-pool, all of five feet deep, and jumped in. Seriously, no diving. As pimped out as our service van is (no, we haven't put the bed in. Yet.) it doesn't working air conditioning. So we were a little hotro from the drive. Settled in, started walking around. Found out that one of our competitors, also in Production class and South East Division, was having problems with their odo reading. Well, we couldn't have that! I told them that if anyone could fix that, we could. Jeff and I worked on their car till about midnight, when I turned in. Jeff continued working on the wiring, fashioning new connectors, re-routing, and testing, till they solved the problem at roughly one A.M. I'm all for out-driving someone, but everyone should start with at least the basic safety equipment, like an odometer, working, even if I am in direct competition with them. Fortunately, we had plenty of tools and supplies to take care of the situation. Woke up the next morning, and did a little bit of sticker work on the truck. Put on the new web page address, www.linaracing.com. "Lina" as in Carolina. Started the free transit out to the service area, where the stages would start from, and, at the end of the night, finish. On the way in, I pulled the truck just a foot off the main tracks down the road, and was immediately struck with the amazing amount of sand present. It was really more like driving in snow. The site was some kind of recreational area, with horse stables, campsites, and a pond. We followed Constantine Montopolous' lead and set up our service van in a shady campsite spot, leaving all the other suckers, I mean, my dearest fellow competitors, to bask in the full South Carolina sun near the stables. Driver's meeting shortly before Stage One. Mostly standard material: be careful, fast roads, be careful, co-drivers keep your drivers in check. Oh, and I almost forgot: there's a bull on the loose. He was last seen near Stage Three. Oh. A bull. Perfect. Someone asked, "Will we know at the start of the stage if he's been caught yet?" The answer: "The farmer has been trying to catch him for three days. I don't think we'll have any updates for you." If the bull doesn't want to be caught The first stage circled around the site, with a few twisties, then a straight blast with a gentle chicane out into the woods. The warning was right on, there were some fast sections on these roads! Every stage we ran that day had me checking the speedo occasionally just so I could remember how much earlier I needed to brake for the corners. The roads were also very wide in sections, instead of the narrow forest stages of the northeast, so visual estimation needed to be recalibrated. Finished the first stage, looked down, and "Oh crap" we were running very hot. Needle to the red, I slammed the internal heater to max and kept the revs low on the transit to the start of the next stage. It didn't help much, as the transit was very short. Shut off the engine while we queued up, and we were almost back to normal operating temps when we pulled up to the line. Ran the next stage gently, with the heater on, driving at about seven tenths, limiting the revs and watching the thermostat. This was now about two pm, the hottest time of the day. We got our first taste of the sucking power of sand as us out in an acute left of about 135 degrees. Totally stopped us, and we had to rock back and forth to complete the turn, followed by one hundred feet of barely moving, just making a huge sand rooster tail, just trying to get moving again. No matter what happens, just stay on it! During the transit to Stage Three, we were back down to cool temps. Amazingly, as hot as it was, you don't notice the heater being on when you're on stage. Once or twice, a hot furnace blast hits your face, and you remember it's there, but the rest of the time you just concentrate on doing your job. Just before stage three started, I got out and diagnosed a large clunking noise was "only the exhaust system coming unbolted". Deciding that was a non-critical system, I put that noise out of my mind, and it disappeared. My only really clear memory of Stage Three is our off. I don't even remember what precipitated it. Eric tells me it was we had just come out of a corner, but we were in fourth gear, so that doesn't seem too likely, but who knows. We caught some sand on the co-driver side, and got sucked into the woods. I remember slamming the clutch to the floor and feeling surprised at the feel. Realized afterward that some part of my brain was probably expecting me to hit the brake, with its firmer feel. We went hit the woods, going parallel to the road, at about forty miles an hour. Lots of greenery was coming up over the hood and slamming into the windshield. We went thirty feet or so, and I was anticipating the big tree that must be lurking in there somewhere waiting for us. I quit anticipating, put it in second, and floored it. Glad at this point that I hadn't hit the brakes. Still no visibility for all the trees we were destroying. Steered hard right, and amazingly popped out onto the road. I can tell you from the contents of our windshield that whatever we ran through, there were a few small pines, but it mostly consisted of deciduous trees. Made it to the end of the stage some three or four miles later. Handing in our time card, we saw steam coming out from under the hood. I thought that this was just the normal "racing in very hot conditions" we were suffering from earlier. I was wrong. On the transit back to the scheduled service, the temperature stayed pegged in the red. And then the battery voltage started dropping. And almost all of the dash warning lights were on. Everything except "Fasten Seatbelt". Lights came on in positions that I didn't even know had lights. It didn't help that it was so bright that I couldn't read some of them. The temperature gauge settled in at a steady "Way Too Hot" and the battery seemed to enjoy the "Way Too Low" position. It was a long fifteen miles back to service, and I was really worried about everything. Something was really wrong up there. The heater was still blowing very hot air, so I knew that we still had fluid in the radiator. I figured as long as there was fluid, oil pressure, and the temp needle didn't go any higher, keep driving and get back to service. Jeff and Matt were waiting for us with the doors to Vantro opened up, and regular tools ready to go. I think they got the sense that something was wrong when I started shouting out the window before we even got stopped. "Check coolant! Check brake fluid! We need to bolt up the exhaust!" Popped the hood got out. I tried to read what all the warning lights were before I shut it off, but gave up. Hood was open by this time and Eric was already looking inside. He sensed something was amiss, something missing, but it eluded him for a second. Then he realized that there was no fan on the engine. Oh, there it was, lying on top of the skid plate. He tried to fish it out, but it didn't really want to come. I moved him aside, reached in, tried to ignore lots of superheated engine parts, pulled hard, and over my shoulder went the fan. With that out of the way, we could see that a shredded belt was tangled up down there as well. And lots of wood sticking through the radiator, which was bulging in toward the engine. Ahhhhh. I can calmly tell you now what happened, although at the time there was a frantic rush trying to figure out what was broken, and how to fix it, in under seventeen minutes. When we drove through all the trees, we must have plowed into some downed softwood trees. Pieces of these came through the grill, pushed in the radiator, and went slightly through it. The impact and obstruction sheared the fan clutch and destroyed the belt that runs the fan, water pump, and alternator. This explains the dropping voltage and the very high temperatures. In fact, I can say with surety that only Jeff's diagnosis ability allowed us to make it back from that stage at all. You see, we had been having trouble with the internal fan. It kept blowing fuses, mostly when it wasn't even running. After checking all the wiring harnesses the morning of the event, Jeff found a connection that had been vampired in to provide power to another accessory. At some point, that accessory was removed, leaving this wire. The wire bounced around on stage and shorted. With this removed and the wiring harness repaired, the interior blower was good to the wood, and that's the only thing that kept that engine from melting itself into a big, powdercoated piece of scrap. Back to service Some of the other teams had come over to help us out. While others were inspecting various pieces, I grabbed one of the big gloves and headed for the overheating radiator. "This is coming off!!!" I yelled as I grabbed the cap. People scattered in all directions as a lime green fountain erupted fifteen feet into the air. Before the last drops hit the ground Jeff already had the water jugs in hand and was moving forward. He was pouring in the fresh, listening for the telltale whoosh of a secondary eruption. Someone was examining the fan, someone else was wiring up the exhaust, someone else was looking for belts, and someone else was pulling wood out of the grill. There were somewhere between five and eight people either underneath the truck, or with their hands in the engine bay. Amazingly, the radiator wasn't leaking. Matthew Johnson, a fellow North Carolina rallier who happens to live only a few miles from me, came up with some clever wood and prying techniques to bend the radiator back into shape and out of the way of the fan. If we get the fan spinning. Matt was underneath, using hose clamps to tack the exhaust together. Jeff was drilling the fan clutch; we had to attach it to that shaft somehow. Eric was running around to other teams, looking for a belt of the right size. I swear I bought one the week before the event. It's even listed in the inventory. Things were getting repaired and inspected at a very quick rate. We tried wiring the fan to the pulley, that didn't work. We then went to some military issue aircraft epoxy putty. The intended use is to plug holes in airplanes. Holes from bullets. It sets five minutes and you can drill it, machine it, tap it, the stuff is nuts. Used that to re-attach the fan. The stopper ended up being the belt. We actually tried duct tape to repair a section where the teeth were stripped off the belt, but the whole belt was contorted and lopsided like it was pretending to be a mobius strip. Wouldn't stay on. We decided that we couldn't make repairs in time and decided to pull out of the race. Phew! Things slowed down at this point. I pulled the team together, stepped up onto a handy log, and gave a little speech. "Listen guys, we did a great job, we fixed all kinds of stuff, but we're pulling out. We're just a hair short. Let's head in to town, pick up some parts, and concentrate on doing a proper fix for the second race. We've got plenty of time, we can get this squared away no problem." Jeff, Matt, and I went into town, visited both of the open auto parts stores, and picked up a couple belts and a new fan clutch. They happened to have one in stock, although it was listed as being the four-wheel drive instead of the two-wheel drive. I knew they had the same engine, and just hoped they shared the same plastic fan blades. Leisurely drive back to service, which wasn't too long at fifteen miles. Eric had been checking out the some of the other standard items like oil level in our absence. Upon returning I found that there was a note under the truck's windshield wiper requesting assistance at scoring. Kendall Russell, the organizer of Cherokee Trails, was in charge of scoring. It turns out she was using the spreadsheet that I had designed for her during the previous year's Cherokee Trails. My crew went swiftly to work while I sat in the scoring room massaging the computer data, tracking down timing inconsistencies between the logs and the cards. At this point, the first race was about over. Once we had the complete scores for the first two stages, we sorted out the start order for the second race. Jeff came in and asked me what kind of sandwich did I want, roast beef or turkey? I told him, "Both!" Shortly thereafter, a big, beautiful, triple-decker sandwich showed up! Man, my crew was awesome. After about forty-five minutes of scoring work, I tore myself away and headed back to my service area. All the repairs were completed, and the radiator looked perfect. I couldn't believe it. I asked Jeff to drive it around for a while and make sure it stayed dry. Amazing. Did I mention my crew was awesome? Lined up for the second race. Jeff and Matt had put the driving lights on. The schedule was slipping and we were anticipating some night stages. Talked to the drivers, like Sumit Panjabi, who were near me in the start order, and then jumped in the truck. The temperature had dropped just enough that we were able to run full throttle without overheating, although we did turn the heater on for a few minutes on the first stage, about half way through. The most dramatic event of that first stage was a square left turn from a long wide straight onto another wide, sandy straight. Came in with plenty of speed, threw a little pendulum turn in to start us sliding sideways before the turn, and gunned it. Came through the corner beautifully, but then got off the throttle too quickly. Weight shot forward, the sand grabbed the wheels, which were still counter steering, and we nosed into the bank perpendicularly. Quickly got on reverse, and began to have that sinking feeling. No, I didn't feel bad, or queasy, I felt like I was sinking! In about a second we had sunk a foot into the sand and the frame of the truck was resting on the ground! There was no way we were rocking out of this! Eric jumped out, tried pushing, but we weren't moving. He grabbed some triangles and ran up the road. As he was running up the road, the spectators at the corner were running down the road. Soon there were seven people pushing on the hood. That plan was quickly abandoned in favor of (and my head was spinning when I heard this through my helmet) "OK! We're going to lift it out!" What!! "One! Two! Three!" The rear end lurched up about two feet and then landed on the ground, outside the foot deep holes I had dug! Reverse! Moving! Turning! Eric, get in! The spectators were yelling, "Go! Go! Go!" and we did! Now, after you crash, and escape, is generally when you really crash. Your concentration is thrown off, you are out of your rhythm, and you aren't calibrated to the speed. I said to Eric, "Ok, relax, get yourself all belted in, I'm not driving too fast over here. This is the dangerous time, we just need to get back in the zone." He assured me he was just out of breath and started in counting down instructions. I knew that I needed some time to get back on it, so I took it easy, and made sure I checked all the readings. The gauges were giving me the love, so I started to take it back up. Another two stages of some weird, almost lunar scenes, with sand piles, dust, strange hills, and it was back to service. The boys had been busy, as it was dark by this point. The generator was running and the big light stands were blazing. As we rolled in, we saw that our service area had been cordoned off, with a big "LINA RACING" banner out in front. Matt opened it up as we rolled in, The whole scene was quite sweet! Relayed the good news that everything mechanical was holding together. Jeff jumped in the truck and took it for a little spin to aim the lights. Matt, being the barefoot type, just jumped in the bed and gave the overhead advice. Eric was calculating how much time we had to get out of there. This long day was just getting longer. We made it to the start of the next stage, anticipating the final two stages, which had been re-arranged. We were going to run this one twice. Decisions were made at that point to only run this stage once, with a two minute start interval to let the dust clear between cars. We walked around, chatted with the other drivers, and generally enjoyed the fact that we actually had a tailgate to sit on. We were informed that the bull was last seen at 1.60 miles into the stage, which gave us a little to ruminate on. Stages like this, everyone just mills around, talking and joking, and it really doesn't seem like anyone is competing with anyone else. Maybe that's because it's too dark to see the classes on the sides of the cars Downed a package of Sour Skittles in an attempt to rev myself up for this last stage. My only rule of rally snacks is "no chocolate". Chocolate always gets all melty-melty. I stick to pure sugar. Finally stage up at the start. Fire up over five hundred watts of tightly focused lights. The idle drops, but we'll soon be at five thousand RPMs, so no worries. This longest stage of the day quickly gives us a taste of what's in store: DUST. Full acceleration to full braking in the middle of the road, nearly stopping several times as vision dropped to zero. We had our third off of the day with a right hander that we carried too much speed into. Slid off into a drainage cut. Drainage cuts in this area are a little over a foot deep, follow the road for a period, and then turn downhill into the woods. This was one of those impacts where you are still going down the road, so that it felt like you hit something going directly sideways. Dirt from the bank flew up over the windshield, and both of the driver's side wheels were trapped in the ditch. We had slowed a lot; I took first gear and got on it. Lots of wheel spin, the passenger side drive wheel probably had very little traction, and we were dragging the skid plate on the edge of the road. I couldn't steer out of the rut, but I wasn't about to stop, for fear of losing momentum. Got up enough speed to get into second gear at exactly the same time that I saw the drainage cut was about to turn and head into the woods. It suddenly became very clear that there was only one chance to escape this scenario. Kept the wheels straight and barreled straight toward it. At the last second, with what I hoped was enough speed, jerked the wheel to the right and popped the front wheel out of the ditch. The rear wheels hit the end of the cut, and bounced out onto the road. "Woooooo!!!!!" Back in it! Started nearing the end of the stage. Little mistakes were starting to creep in as general exhaustion took its toll. Misjudged one corner and tagged a gate, cracking our front left turn signal. Misjudged another and cut it completely early. Saw that there were no obstacles; decided this was not the time for finesse, and just went with the overland route. Now it was also getting exciting: the end of the last stage was the same as the start of the first stage, only run backward. We knew the character of that road, we knew that we would be running right by the service area, and we knew that Jeff and Matt would be on the side of the road spectating! Blasted down the straight, through a gentle S curve, running about 75 MPH with lights blazing! Saw Jeff and Matt, and Carl and Mary E., as we passed the stables. Some quick turns and we were done. Wow! Another rally complete, and vehicle still in one piece. Pulled in to our service area, everyone grinning. Jeff inquired at this time, "How did you get the flat?" "What?" Turns out we completely deflated the left front impacting the bank about four miles back. Those Silverstone tires are pretty sweet; they felt fine for the rest of the way. The crew jumped on getting a spare mounted for the return trip to the hotel, and advised me that a shower would be most invigorating before the pizza and awards ceremony. Naturally, they proceeded to then hog the shower Being hungry, impatient, and slightly euphoric, I made a command decision. "There aren't many women here. My odds are pretty good" "Hello???" Yoink. I must say that the women's shower was much more luxurious than ours. By "luxurious" I mean that someone left behind a sliver of soap, otherwise it was identical to the concrete shower I had already coveted. Over to get some pizza, where I chastised other drivers for not being civilized enough to clean themselves up before coming out to a party. I conveniently overlooked the fact that I was wearing neither my formal shorts nor my formal t-shirt. Lots of handshaking, laughing, talking, and some story swapping. We took second place in class, an excellent finish that showed how the whole team really came together to persevere through some tough situations, difficulties, and some tricky driving. We were dead tired by the time scoring was completed and the trophies were handed out. I threw the keys to Eric and announced, "I don't care who gets in what, but I'm not driving anything home!" The next morning was made complete by Matt and I sneaking off for a proper breakfast at the Huddle House. Waffles, eggs, and lots of "Ohhhh, this is so good!" Our short and sweet two hour tow back home was filled with recounting tales of the event and thinking up improvements we could make for the next event. I can't wait! I would like to thank the following local businesses for their support and good work:
I would also like to thank Charles Sherrill who organized the event. This kind of thing takes a huge amount of work! An SCCA Performance Rally consists of anywhere between thirty to one hundred and twenty cars and trucks blasting down gravel roads. Generally national forest or logging roads are used, and they are closed to the public for the race. The cars race on a series of "stages", which can be from three to thirty miles in length. A rally can consist of up to 250 miles of competitive racing. Each car leaves a minute behind the next, to speed along a road the driver has never seen before. Each vehicle also has a "co-driver" or "navigator" who describes the road coming up from a book provided by the organizers of the race. All vehicles are based on production cars, but require standard safety gear such as roll cages, racing seats, and 5-point harnesses, while the driver and co-driver are required to wear racing helmets and fireproof suits. The harsh roads take often damage the vehicles, and each pit-stop, or "service", lasts only 10 to 20 minutes, during which the crew may do anything from simply gassing up to replacing an entire transmission. Lina Racing, named after its home state of North Carolina, is owned by Anders Green and based in Cary, NC. For more information about our races and pictures of these events, go to www.linaracing.com To contact Anders Green, use anders@pobox.com or 919.303.0218. Also visit the Sport Car Club of America, who sanctions these events, at www.scca.org |