ChrisCairns
Senior Member
- Joined
- May 24, 2001
I like to jump in my daily driver and take trips on whims. Last Thursday I decided to go to Boise, ID and see the Boise gang, consisting of Ron Neisler (Buickron), Shawn Miles (IdahoGN), and Steve Murdock (Snaperhead).
Steve was busy doing girlfriend stuff so Ron, Shawn and I went racing on Saturday at their local track. It's a gorgeous track, well prepped and not too busy that day even though it was great weather, albeit slightly hot.
Shawn was driving his new TTA, mid 13 second car, Ron was in his normal race car, a low 12 second ride and I was in my daily driver that I'd never had at a track since I don't want to break it. I really didn't even want to race since I was 500 miles from home but Shawn assured me he would trailer me home if anything happened to my car. (And he would have...Shawn's that kinda guy).
So on the first pass it was still warm out...musta been around 80 and I get to the line to do some spoolin'. Not much, in fact probably around 1 psi, when the light comes down and I leave. Talk about neck whipping. Or don't talk about it as I don't think anyone else is. The whole pass seemed kinda slow, one of those slow motion things that happen during catastrophes and people describe what happened, only this one WAS a slow motion pass. Pickup the time slip and it was a blistering 15.50.
FIFTEEN FRIGGIN FIFTY????
I hung my head and crawled back to the pits. Once I told the guys the times they were good natured about it, simply saying things like, "Ya make Buick proud" and "What a pansy." At least they understood and showed compassion.
I got mad. Opened the cutout. Increased the boost from 14 to 15. Checked the fuel pressure and increased it 1 lb. Now I'm ready for anything the track could throw at me.
2nd pass. Staged, building boost....GO. Ahhhhh, this time I KNOW the TR is living up to it's reputation. Collect the time slip. 15.03. Schit. Fukin car.
When I got back to our pit Shawn and Ron had moved. Took me awhile to find them but I recognised them even with the paper bags over their heads.
We calmly discussed what the problem might be; Shawn contributing things like "I'm gonna puke" and Ron being much more diplomatic by actually puking.
We did notice some damage to my car from the extremely harsh launches though. The phony GNX fender vent on the driver side had cracked. Musta happened when the front tire was laughing.
3rd pass. Dialed a 15.00. Ooh, what a daredevil.
And this time it actually did spool up a bit. Even felt better going down the track. I win, I win. Pickup my time slip....I'd broken out with a 14.77.
I swear the car doesn't even know it's a pusssy. It drove home as sweet as pie, holding it's hood bulge high.
I'm going to part it out.
Oh and one more thing. Shawn, just to rub it in, won the bracket and got a trophy, flaunting it in front of us.
We played poker at Shawn's house later that night. I saw he had put the trophy on the mantle.
Betcha he doesn't even know it's missing yet.
Steve was busy doing girlfriend stuff so Ron, Shawn and I went racing on Saturday at their local track. It's a gorgeous track, well prepped and not too busy that day even though it was great weather, albeit slightly hot.
Shawn was driving his new TTA, mid 13 second car, Ron was in his normal race car, a low 12 second ride and I was in my daily driver that I'd never had at a track since I don't want to break it. I really didn't even want to race since I was 500 miles from home but Shawn assured me he would trailer me home if anything happened to my car. (And he would have...Shawn's that kinda guy).
So on the first pass it was still warm out...musta been around 80 and I get to the line to do some spoolin'. Not much, in fact probably around 1 psi, when the light comes down and I leave. Talk about neck whipping. Or don't talk about it as I don't think anyone else is. The whole pass seemed kinda slow, one of those slow motion things that happen during catastrophes and people describe what happened, only this one WAS a slow motion pass. Pickup the time slip and it was a blistering 15.50.
FIFTEEN FRIGGIN FIFTY????
I hung my head and crawled back to the pits. Once I told the guys the times they were good natured about it, simply saying things like, "Ya make Buick proud" and "What a pansy." At least they understood and showed compassion.
I got mad. Opened the cutout. Increased the boost from 14 to 15. Checked the fuel pressure and increased it 1 lb. Now I'm ready for anything the track could throw at me.
2nd pass. Staged, building boost....GO. Ahhhhh, this time I KNOW the TR is living up to it's reputation. Collect the time slip. 15.03. Schit. Fukin car.
When I got back to our pit Shawn and Ron had moved. Took me awhile to find them but I recognised them even with the paper bags over their heads.
We calmly discussed what the problem might be; Shawn contributing things like "I'm gonna puke" and Ron being much more diplomatic by actually puking.
We did notice some damage to my car from the extremely harsh launches though. The phony GNX fender vent on the driver side had cracked. Musta happened when the front tire was laughing.
3rd pass. Dialed a 15.00. Ooh, what a daredevil.
And this time it actually did spool up a bit. Even felt better going down the track. I win, I win. Pickup my time slip....I'd broken out with a 14.77.
I swear the car doesn't even know it's a pusssy. It drove home as sweet as pie, holding it's hood bulge high.
I'm going to part it out.
Oh and one more thing. Shawn, just to rub it in, won the bracket and got a trophy, flaunting it in front of us.
We played poker at Shawn's house later that night. I saw he had put the trophy on the mantle.
Betcha he doesn't even know it's missing yet.
