I wanted to share with you how I met Chris Harris.
He would write an article for out local news letter. I have attached his last one.
Godspeed Harris, Godspeed.
THE RACER’S CORNER: Chris Harris August 2004
You know, kitty litter can mean a lot of things to a lot of different people. To the cat lover, it's a necessary evil to absorb what a cat no longer needs to function. To a sloppy mechanic, kitty litter is a valuable tool to absorb errant fluids from a car and it's oozing cavities. And to a race car driver, "kitty litter" is the pool of gravel at particularly dangerous corners to stop a race car that has, for one reason of another, decided to leave the racing surface and propel itself towards an even more dangerous area.
Gary, Jack, Stephen Trenery, and I made the trip to the new Barber Motorsports Park in Birmingham, Alabama last month. We had intended to go last year, but since Edith, the little engine that could, passed away, we were still in mourning. That means...no go, no show. This year we had made it a plan that we would keep.
Jack had gone to a Porsche driving school at the track in June, so he was a wealth of information on the nuances of the course. One of his comments was that the course was very technical and somewhat tight. He also said that the grounds and the facilities were awesome. He couldn't have been more accurate on either account. The course is designed for motorcycle racing rather than cars, but is more than sufficient for either. In fact, there have also been several professional auto races held there along with a few professional go kart races, besides motorcycle races. The grounds and facilities were indeed, absolutely beautiful. The course is sculpted from a valley cupped in the hands of the hills surrounding the Talledega National Forest. To say that it is "awesome" is a little too NASCAR. Even the restrooms are in the three star hotel category. There is air conditioning where others have fans. There are elevators where others have stairs. And there are stairs where others have no need. All around are sculptures, lighting, walkways, and gates. Everything, and I do mean everything is built and designed for a purpose, and that purpose is to be beautifully functional. No plant is there by accident. It was either left in place during the excavation or planted there by a master landscape architect. No bare spots in the grass here. It has a complete staff of attendants, janitors, grounds keepers, security, etc. The price to build and develop that I heard was in excess of $100 million. Kind of dwarfs the effort of the dedicated ITC driver.
We met up with some of our racing buddies for a weekend of fun, B.S., and racing. From the start, we knew we were in for a challenge. For Gary, the other two of the fastest ITC car/driver combos in the country were in attendance. For me, it was a chance to race with the big boys in a field of eleven cars. From the outset, we knew things were going to have to change as the SCCA rules would only allow 58 cars on the course at one time, and our group had 72 entries. Even the ITS and ITA group had 60 drivers entered. By race time the order of natural selection had taken place due to no shows and breakage, and our groups had been trimmed down to the maximum 58. As an aside, this is an opportunity to lobby against cloning. There are now way more Mazdas racing in Spec Miata than have ever been built by the factory. I have it on good information that this is verifiable fact. And they are driven by three types of drivers...the blindingly fleet, the half-fast, and the slugs. Sadly, the course was not designed with Gary's car, and it's horsepower curve in mind. Short straight's and tight turns are not his forte'. For my car, the course was great, but, as always, Judas was there, so that sort of screwed the pooch.
Our first session was run for two complete laps behind the pace car to familiarize us with the course. Rather like a funeral procession with open exhausts. Once we were let loose to drive at speed, I was ready to boogie...not to be. Finding myself on totally the wrong line of a blind uphill, downhill, late apex, decreasing/increasing/decreasing radius with a flat out chicane entrance and heavy brake, downshift, right/left combination onto the main straight turn...I spun...big as s.... Engine dead but no other harm done, but I waited forever until traffic cleared enough to let me back out on the track. I completed the turn to see the checkered flag that ended the session. One lap! Oh, well, I've done worse!
Qualifying wasn't much better as I drove conservatively in order to learn the track and get a time. What a time...eighteen seconds off the pole. The race began as fun with a few of us "sleds" having a good race at the rear of the field. As we hit the aforementioned turn in a tight pack, two of us, once again, got it wrong and slid off the track in a fury of dust and tire smoke. This time we both saved it, and made it look like it was choreographed. Two laps later, we repeated the same stunt at the same place. This time with much more spectacular results. I was told that on videotape the spins would have gotten a maximum Olympic score on technical, style, and originality. At one time or another, we were side by side, nose to tail, nose to nose, and tail to tail...on and off the track. At least three different times I saw and felt us hit, but we never touched. I ended up headed the right way with the engine running so I beat-feet in pursuit of the pack. The other guy stalled, so I picked up a position. My race was done and my position set for a couple of laps until, at the same turn, the car I was chasing went off and hit the wall. One more position. Finishing sixth and having taken nine seconds off my lap time, I accepted the result.
After some hair pulling, gnashing of teeth, and self abusing, we made some positive changes to both our cars. Sunday, Gary and I were primed for a good qualifying session. Gary ran better, but so did the competition. They simply had the horses for the course. I got in a race for qualifying that worked for me, for once, and I took another three seconds off my best time. Now we were getting to the point where we could actually see the other ITC cars on the track. The start of the race was not one of my better ones, but some of what I had planned did indeed work, and I remained in touch with the ITC field and pulled away from those behind me. One of the best passes of my life occurred at the end of the front straight and a left hand kink where the track simply falls out from under you. Even though it didn't stick, and the guy got back around me two turns later, he had to work so hard to do it, that he missed his braking point, and I passed him again. Judas was to have nothing of my fun and held me back so that I could be re-passed. A pretty bad accident put the field under the pace car for four laps, which broke my momentum. The restart saw me lose contact and get passed by two of the slug Miatas. In an attempt to regain position, I tried a late braking maneuver, which had been shaky in the past laps. No good! Locked brakes, greasy tires, left, right, backwards, straight, then sideways...into the kitty litter...buried to the tub...wheels dangling in the rocks...four laps from the end of the race. As I got out of my stranded car, my competition passed me and waived a robust "thank you". I had to settle for a next to last finish and the contentment that I had taken another second off my fastest time during the race. Oh well, we did have fun and learned a lot about how to drive. My final lap times improved by almost 13 seconds from the first qualifying session to the fastest race lap. Have to be content with that.
Next stop...Sebring, Florida...home to some of the most famous sports car racing in the United States racing history. The new carburetor is finally here, and we are preparing to do battle like never before. Nothing but blue sky, great apexes, and checkered flags ahead.
