I did it again. In my never ending quest to find out if I can still pilot SOMETHING at speed, I competed in the annual Backwards Enduro at the Badger Kart Club this past weekend. The results were less than expected.
Rewind one weekend ago and you'll find me attempting to actually enter a race in a class that I would belong to had I had a kart of my own. HPV Senior. The name alone conjures up thoughts of older guys like myself who either still have it, or are still convincing ourselves that we do. On the contrary the class age requirement states "16 and up". Sixteen years! Senior? Somehow the two of them don't coexist in my vocabulary.
I quickly put to rest the notion that I could even stay up with these younger "Seniors" and concentrated on anyone with as many wrinkles in their face as I have. After failing to find many of these drivers, and failing to just keep the kart on the track, I began to work on me and me alone.
Seven sessions out on the track and an equal amount of spins and crashes finally dictated that my time was up for the day. In hindsight I feel session three should have been the quitting point but you know how stubborn middle aged men can get. I felt I had some unfinished business to take care of but quickly realized what was unfinished was my ability to spin in EVERY corner and hit just about everything on and off the track. Kart and driver were still in one piece at this point so I retired for the day while I was still ahead.
When Sunday morning came I was so sore I could barely get out of bed. I was in such bad shape physically (and pretty much demoralized) that I had prayed for the forecasted rain to come early so I could avoid looking like a Nancy and pack it up for the day.
Be careful of what you ask for is how the saying goes. As luck would have it I rose to the occasion, sucked it up, and had an unbelievable practice session. I took my normal spot at the back of the pack and as we left the grid I found karts off the track everywhere. In one lap we lost more than half the field, and I was still standing! I went on to record my fastest time of the weekend and managed to save my son from running a half mile to rescue my stranded butt. All of this would be in vain though as the rain literally came while we pushed our karts to the grid for our race. They called the day's events shortly after.
Fast forward one week and a better rested, somewhat wiser version of me is ready to face the music all over again - But in the wrong direction.
Tracks are built to go in one direction. Proper runoff areas are designed to restrain rogue vehicles, saving driver and equipment in the event of a crash. Or an "Off" as we like to say in the business. When you change the direction of travel on the course these large runoff areas are now in the entrance to a corner. What greets you at the exit in most cases is a very small area for mistakes. The club does a nice job of moving hay bales and pillows around to accommodate this but they're still very intimidating when they are that close to you on the track.
My trouble for the day began when certain parts of my anatomy were growing at a much faster rate than my intuition. I kept pushing the limit of how close to the edge of the track I could take my kart to at the exit of the last corner. If I could get this right and carry all of my speed through this portion of the track I could be so much quicker overall. I had to get this right if I was to survive a twenty minute enduro with guys much more experienced and a good deal faster than me.
Le Mans starts are required at events like these, and this year I was a bit late in getting myself on the track. Once I finished stuffing myself in the seat, and Sam got my engine started, I assumed my ever familiar position at the back of the pack.
I worked for what seemed like an eternity at establishing a rhythm where I began to feel like I wasn't going to get run over by everyone. Three different classes were competing in my group so we were never spread out very far from one another. Every lap I took myself further and further out to the edge of turn eleven in hopes of carrying as much speed as possible through the fastest part of the track. In a couple of cases I got my left side just off the track surface and scared the living hell out of myself.
The third time would not prove the charm as I came through with my left side fully in the grass. And like a tractor beam had locked on me, I was collected in an instant with nothing to do to avoid the imminent impact. I went through the pillows, through the hay bales, and through the timing beacon. The hydra barrier was the last line of defense between me and a chain link fence. My day was over and there was only one minute left in the race.
So with that I brushed off my ego, cleaned the kart up a bit, and called 2008 a wrap. Even though I totally choked with a minute left I had a great time. It's my only time behind the wheel every year so whatever comes of it, outside of death and/or mutilation, it's a plus for me. I know now that the smack talk my son tosses at me from time to time is well deserved. I may not see a podium in my near future but I'll be happy to keep working at it. Even if it is only one weekend a year.
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