The hardest part of becoming a race driver might just be figuring out how to become licensed. The next hardest part might be shifting. That's a small part of what I found out recently at Bertil Roos Race School at Pocono Raceway in Pennsylvania.
I love racing for many reasons, but one is the people you meet who share the same passion. Fred and Alex, very like-minded comrades, took up my challenge to get ourselves to race school and get licensed. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. Alex just turned 45 and I was about to hit 44. We know we aren't going to be paid to have a go in an Indy Car anytime soon, but there comes a time when you either check things off your bucket list as done or cross them off as not going to happen. I'd always prefer to be able to do the former.
I chose the Bertil Roos race school (there are other options - Bondurant, Skip Barber, etc) primarily because of the person who runs it, a man named Dennis. Dennis is one of those guys whose appearance lies in stark contrast to what you come to understand to be the actual person. I first met Dennis at the Palmer race track in Massachusetts where he was invited to speak to us all about how to drive a track that is new to us (and to everyone since it was brand new). In the most affectionate way, Dennis appears to be a guy who has lived many of his years outdoors developing a tough, leathery patina. But then he begins speaking. And you come to understand that Dennis is a professor. His command of language is impressive with impeccable delivery even while preferring "shock statements" - calculated, surprise elements that hope to be memorable even while your students are barely listening. Learning from Dennis is it's own adventure and I can't recommend it highly enough!
As we drove into the "Tricky Triangle" donning the school-provided tattered race suits that have seen the fear of many a student, we were amazed at the sheer vast majesty of Pocono Raceway. I had never seen a tri-oval before, and really haven't spent too much time at major oval circuits. It's probably nearly a mile across! I don't think you can see the other side due to the curvature of the earth! I came to know later that it was built on land that was once a lake bed. If you've ever seen a dry lake bed, you have also seen that they are not flat. They have beautiful, water-carved hollows and depressions, dips and swales that make for an excellent, if somewhat deceptively complex, topography.
We quickly came to love the jovial gentleman who manned the entry booth to the track. Seeing his smiling face each morning and trying to think of some crazy question to ask him each day became one of those rituals to calm the fears of men going into battle. "Why is it called the tricky triangle?" "Oh, it's tricky alright. Very tricky. See this turn [you enter via a tunnel under turn 2], that's a tough one!" "What's a good place for lunch around here?" "You asking me? I live in this little booth over here. Oh, but Woody's around the corner. They do a nice lunch." We intentional steered clear of Woody's. Guys like this are the real heart and soul of a track and we loved him and his Pocono. I hope we made him a little happier, too!
The course itself runs either 3 days or 5 days. The extra 2 days are real wheel-to-wheel racing and provide eligibility for a full SCCA license. The three day leads up to it and allows for SCCA vintage licensing eligibility as well as most club racing entry. Due to time constraints, Alex and I did the 3 day. Fred, amazing guy that he is, had his foot to the floor for the full 5.
"None of you are going to impress me, so don't try. All I ask is that you don't scare me. And most of you will." That's how Dennis led things off. He explained our cars - Scandia F2000 formula cars, 2 liter 150hp motors with carbs, 4 speed manual non-sychronized transmissions with clutch, about 1200lbs wet, up to 2 G's of cornering force, 125mph top speed based on gearing. It's funny that I didn't think too much about the machine we'd be using to learn on. I would have been happy in a Spec Miata probably. But I came to love the feeling of sitting low in an open cockpit in a tiny car. Our feet were well up into the nose cone working pedals that were stiff to the point of requiring very deliberate effort to actuate them at all. Our shins were in constant and painful contact with the steering tie rods as we tried to work the pedals. You quickly learned how to adjust the seat to try to minimize your bruising. The seat was just a fiberglass shell barely suspended in a metal box frame with aluminum sheets keeping rocks from flying up into your rectum. Fred was tall so he didn't even get to use a seat, instead sitting on some thin, loose pads directly on the tub. Each shift with the right hand forced our hands to smash into the fiberglass body work on the side of the car with enough force to break the skin even when wearing gloves. This was not for the faint of heart. At speed, you notice none of these quibbles and just love the experience.
Getting into the car and belted-in was a two-person (minimum) event. You had so little space that you couldn't get leverage to tighten the belts from inside the car. Each time you got into it you followed a plan - check the seat location and adjust, pull belts out of the way and make sure they are loosened, stuff your gloves into the steering wheel and place your helmet on the side pod, step over the bodywork and stand on the seat, crouch and use your arms to suspend your body over the cockpit so you can slide your feet under the wheel and steering linkage down to the pedals, pull the belts back out that have inevitably now slid under your butt and search your crotch for the submarine belt that always goes hiding, link up your five-point belts in their specific order and click the lock mechanism, get your partner to tighten up your waist belts and shoulder belts, pull off your sunglasses, have partner put your helmet on your head, tighten it and put sunglasses back on, put on gloves, check that you are in neutral, wait for signal to start engines, pull out the power cut off switch, hit the starter button to fire the motor, rev it a few times and listen to the glorious open exhaust, let it sit idling to warm up, finally start thinking about driving while you breathe in the smell of the exhaust from the car in front of you. Amazing how natural it became in just a couple of days. And how badly I want to feel it again.
Our classroom sessions began largely rehashing many of the things that are taught at nearly every high performance driving event each time. Dennis has a bit of a twist in that he likes to de-emphasize braking. By his calculation, you spend maybe 5% of your lap braking. So he has a good point. It's also where you can screw up the worst by trying to brake too late. He's a very smart, experienced guy. We talked a lot about "ocular driving technique" (looking as far ahead as you can) which sounds easy, but it is, biologically, the reverse of your self-preservation instinct. You want to look about 20 feet in front of you, especially when scared. In yet another display of Dennis' deep analysis of racing, he explained that our human natural top speed is about 17mph and our body is normally geared to that speed. When traveling over 100mph, we have to be two seconds ahead or we are "driving into history" - we won't be able to react in time since our physiognomy won't allow it! Fascinating stuff, really. It's great to have some scientific basis for understanding why looking far ahead is so critical to being safe and fast. And why it's so hard to do every time.
Once of the most unexpectedly cool instructional tools at the school are the patented slide cars. These are cars that have rear wheels that are forced into steering in-phase with the front tires when you turn the steering wheel, making it feel like you are sliding sideways but at very low speeds. What makes these amazing tools is how well they magnify any mistakes or bad habits you have. Not looking far enough ahead? You'll be way too slow correcting the line and you'll spin. Too abrupt with your inputs? You'll miss your marks on track badly and probably spin. Some folks actually crashed slide cars - at about 20mph!! They are that tricky to drive. Maybe that is what our gatekeeper meant about the "tricky triangle" moniker?
After running the line in normal street cars and being humbled by the slide cars, we finally hopped into the formula race cars. It's an incredible feeling to be in one. It is absolutely unique. The view from inside instantly brings to mind all the in-car video from the driver's perspective that you've watched for your whole life. You can't help but feel like Senna in his Marlboro-Maclaren or A.J.Foyt in his Indy car. But the nerves. Oh, the nerves. I watched the car in front of me stall about 8 times before being able to work out the abrupt clutch bite point. I'll admit to chuckling a bit, mostly because he kept trying to restart the motor while in gear. And then it was my turn to go. Stall. Only once. But again, humbling. The starter made a point to mention how he saw my stall coming.
Then you get onto the track. The wind directly in your helmet pushing your head around. The brakes are phenomenal and direct. The steering feel is so accurate and precise that the closest analogy would be a racing kart. There is no assist. Every control is raw and direct and set up to feel like it's just your body magically rocketing down the road.
But then it is time to shift. Dennis explained the theory of synchros in our briefing. Briefly, synchros do the magic of equilibrating the engine and wheel speeds as you push the clutch and work the pedals. Everyone has heard of heel/toe rev-matching and such. It's kind of like that, but not having synchros means you have to be perfect every time. Get it wrong and one of several things will happen. You will hear a very nasty grinding noise. Or you may not be able to get it into gear at all. Or you may find yourself in neutral with no drive. Or a combo of these. After two sessions on day one, I was petrified that I'd never be able to successfully execute a downshift!! Doing 120 into a chicane and not knowing whether you can bang out your two downshifts...very humbling. The first day taught us that driving a real race car is not nearly as simple as you might think. These cars are purposely used in the school because they are about the hardest things to drive you'll ever experience. "If you can drive these, you should be able to hop into any racing car and be ok." Point well made.
The whole night after day one, I kept playing the shift sequence in my mind. Off gas, pull car out of gear (without pressing clutch) and into neutral, push clutch, uprev the motor, pray it goes into the gear you want, clutch up and gas. If you have to think about these steps in the car, you've already borked your shift. It has to become natural. And shockingly, on day two, it almost did!
Day two had our full attention. It was cold and we were scared and humble. The classroom focused on learning "the system" - a repeatable way to approach a track, figure it out, and build speed safely. It was a lot to digest. On track, we started with more driving the line in street cars. And then heading out in the slide cars. Finally, it was time to get back into our race cars and drive a few sessions. What a relief it was to finally start to get a couple of shifts done without sounding like an input shaft was going to fall out the back of the car. It was critical to get downshifts done early under braking into a corner - or you couldn't really focus on how to take the corner. Or be fast. So getting those shifts right was a huge milestone.
We ended day two with a track walk. At the end of a long day in cars, you might think that a track walk is about the last thing you'd want to do. DON'T EVER SKIP IT! In a car, at speed, I'd venture that you're seeing maybe 20% of what you see when standing still. The elevation changes, the camber changes, pavement changes, curbs, the line. You haven't seen it until you are on foot. And Dennis added a new dimension - the "parachute" or safety system. Where are the hardest turns? The ones that fool your eyes. Hint: look for the skid marks both on the track and off the track. I won't give away his secrets, since, "I always lie to my competitors." And the stories Dennis told were worth the price of entry alone. Get out and walk the track and really look at all the telltale marks left behind. Silently, they tell lurid stories.
Day three had some new scares in store for us. Dennis was going to teach us how to fix our mistakes on track. And what to do when we couldn't. And how to f'up safely - by spinning the car on purpose! If you've ever crashed before, you'll know it isn't a fun event. And it happens so quickly but then goes in slow motion. You remember so many details. And here we were doing that on purpose! Dennis' funny story for the day was about watching Danica Patrick throw her hands up before hitting a wall. So many praised her. I certainly would have. Dennis said, "Hell no! Never give up." And preceded to tell us a story about a big shunt he was in where he could have given up and was initially inclined to do so. But at the last second, he saw that he was going to land ("there is no grip in the air!") with a few feet of track left, allowing him to add just enough steering to hit the wall at a more favorable angle. He went from 2nd to 6th as his car dragged itself across the line, but it may have been the difference between walking home and being at the medical center. He did look back to see if the person who caused him to crash was in a ball of fire. He's a competitor, right!
We got into our cars and finally saw some decent speeds out there. I was hitting close to 5000 revs in 4th on the long, curved, banked "straight". And I was practicing different entry speeds and lines through some of the harder corners. I was even getting some throttle- and brake-induced car rotation in the slower corners to minimize steering and maximize speed. I was starting to love those little race cars. And the feeling has not gone away since.
Fred stayed for the next two days where you run simulated race days including qualifying and 20-lap races. Despite never having driven on a race track before coming to the school (but lots of autocross), Fred snatched second in both of his races! For anyone who doesn't think autocross is good preparation for racing and great practice, I think the data begs to differ. We had some young hotshots in our class. Some had dirt experience and karting. Fred's performance shows that brains and car control experience are worth quite a bit on a track. Well done, Fred!!
I'm actively searching the classifieds for a used Formula car. If you see one for sale, please send me the info!
Amazing thanks to our wives and families who suspended their fears and disbelief that we would do something this insane. They let us go live out a dream and see exactly why otherwise normal people would strap themselves into a rocket for fun. We love them even more for the fact that they understand that we had to give this a try. Make the most of every day!
And thanks to Dennis and his team, Taylor, my instructor and to the mechanics who kept us all running!
Here is one of my victims at the track. Autocross isn't the only place to kill cones. Yes, I did get black flagged for this one!