Nevada Insanity
Wait..I
actually think that's redundant.
By far
the most dangerous “race” I ever ran was the Virginia City
Hillclimb. This is a 5.2 mile route which climbs 1200 feet with 21
turns, run on the route between US 50 and the old silver mining
“Comstock” historic town. The route uses NV 341, with the cars
returning from the top of the course to the start via NV 342.
At
first glance you would think that a public road might actually be
safer than a purpose-built race course, with safety features such as
no off-camber turns, guard rails, etc. But this is rural Nevada, and
such is not the case. Not only does the route have the antithesis of
those specific features, near the end it also traverses an overpass
crossing 20 feet or so above the tracks of the Virginia & Truckee
Railroad. I once watched a guy in a real factory Daytona convertible
wipe his car against both sides of this bridge as he forgot to
compensate for the change in surface from asphalt to concrete.
I also
once watched Alessandro Pedani, a Maitre'd at a well known SF
restaurant, crawl out from under the bridge with his girlfriend, both
in their underwear, when they should have been “on guard” as
corner workers. Alessandro was quite a character. Italian to the
core, he spoke with a pronounced accent and was fluent in the
language. He used to parade around in a mock (or perhaps it was real)
red and very official looking Ferrari driving suit. His ruse was so
successful he once managed to talk his way into the inner sanctum of
the Formula One team's headquarters when Long Beach ran an F1 street
course, even meeting and chatting with the team drivers.
At many
points on the course there is a cliff on one side and a fairly sheer
drop of several hundred feet on the other, with gravel and dirt
typical of the high desert and thus lacking any sort of grip if you
should misjudge and get a wheel off the pavement.
The
event started in the mid 1970s under the management of the Ferrari
Owners Club, Bay Area Region. When the Board and members of that
group migrated to become part of the Ferrari Club of America the
event continued with their management. In the 70s the Shelby Club
were regular invitees and participants, and these two performance
oriented groups also ran other speed events jointly, including track
days at Riverside Raceway...a story for another time.
While I
was in the FOC I not only participated in the event, a time trial
where you ran in class against the clock, but also volunteered as a
starter, corner worker, and transport for workers, but also, on at
least one occasion, helped put together the steps needed to make the
event happen.
The
latter is no easy task. Not only is the event run on a public state
highway and uses part of another for return from the finish to the
start line, but the course crosses the county line (between Douglas
and Nye counties I believe). Thus there are two county governments,
two sheriff's departments, and the Nevada Highway Patrol to
coordinate with for permits, safety, road closure, public
notification, securing communications through a local ham radio
group, getting ambulance and towing support lined up, and a host of
other requirements...not the least of which is soliciting cooperation
of homeowners along the route to minimize the number of times the
course has to be shut down to allow them egress and ingress to their
property during the weekend.
I
clearly remember one time riding up to Nevada in Doug Fonner's 308
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| 308GTB |
The
course has one truly evil turn on it...it shows as #16 on the latest
map from the event web site...
which is worth a
visit:https://www.virginiacityhillclimb.com/.
Be sure to watch the video, though it does not show more than the
start line. I do have an “in car” VHS shot through the windshield
of my car around here somewhere, and I really should get it converted
to dvd one of these days. If I do I will add it to this blog. If I
can find it that is.
I've
got a lot of memories of the event. John Lewis ran it in his AC
Bristol.
This
picture was shot in the local school parking lot used as a staging
area. Adin had ridden up and back from the Bay Area with John, and it
was so cold across Carson Pass and the Sierra summit that on the way
back he was curled into a fetus position in the passenger footwell
with John's car cover pulled over him. Don't laugh...the bare
aluminum floor of an AC can get hot enough to melt rubber shoe soles!
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| The Best 2 liter sports car ever? |
Poor
John was frozen. I offered to switch with him for awhile so he could
warm up in the relative comfort of my 2+2 but he decided to “tough
it out.”
I
also remember “caravanning” to the event with a half dozen other
cars. We went via CA88, and when we hit the Nevada line everyone
stuck their foot to the floor. Nevada had no speed limits back then,
but as my car hit better than 120 the rest of the group just walked
away from me. I think I saw 140 just before we hit the outskirts of
Minden and Gardnerville, the fastest I ever reached in the car.
On
these trips the group usually stopped for a lunch and “stretch”
break at some point in the mountains. Despite limited luggage space,
we all brought everything needed for a picnic, and there were
numerous clever solutions to packing as much as we could in as little
space as possible. But there was also an element of whimsy involved.
Though, as I have indicated in earlier posts, this was the antithesis
of a snobbish group, there was more than lip service paid to the fact
that we were driving cars which were viewed by much of the world as
little more than status symbols.
Accordingly there might be, in our picnic supplies, china plates, sterling silverware, and real wine glasses (to this day Sherri refuse to drink wine in plastic cups). But it quickly escalated into what was called the “Wretched Excess” award, with white linen cloths and napkins on the picnic tables and, finally, silver candelabras and lobster with drawn butter pulled by the Joneses out of their 246GTS. How they got that stuff into that car remains a mystery to me.
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| Where would you put two candelabras in this? |
Then
there was the time where the rock I placed against my front tire as a
“parking brake” failed. I had started the car to warm it up and
there was just enough vibration so the car climbed the rock and
“parked” itself against a stone wall. Not much damage and
actually a good thing as absent that stopping it the next item was a
black 512BB.(pic)
Everyone thought the car was just anxious to get to the hill.
One
of John's runs was less than successful. Sherri and I were working
one of the early corners...from the map I think it was #4, when John
overcooked it and slammed the side of the AC against the rock wall.
To
keep the schedule moving each successive car is started as soon as
the one before it is perceived to be far enough up the hill that the
new competitor cannot catch up to him. But of course in this case the
incident meant shutting down the course until it could be cleared.
The next car happened to be...a 427ci Cobra!
This bit of Carroll Shelby's insanity was driven by Dick Smith, a
bail bondsman from Fresno who had been national SCCA champion in this
very car for two years in a row in the mid 60s.
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| Dick Smith's Cobra National Champion Really Good Guy |
I
could feel, no
less hear him coming. Dick was one of the very best drivers I have
ever seen handle one of these beasts. Most people go through turns
with them in a series of short, jerky little “straights” until
they line up at the exit and then just “stand on it,” relying on
the car's tremendous power to make up for any time lost.
Dick,
on the other hand, was so smooth you would think the car was just a
sweet little pussycat to race rather than something that could bite
it's own tail with any instant failure of driver talent.
So
I grab the red flag, start to wave it...and the cloth leaves the pole
and sails up the hill. Apparently the staples pulled out...and at
that point I was standing there staring at a bare pole. Sherri had
the presence of mind to hand me the yellow flag, and though that
indicates “caution” and “no passing”
Dick realized that the latter had no meaning in this type of event
and instantly shut the car down, thus avoiding what might have been a
disaster for both John and himself.
Joe
Alphabet once spun off the infamous turn 16 in a 308. I once asked
Joe about his unusual last name. I don't recall his ethnicity, but
his family immigrated from what at the time was, best I recall, one
of those “stan” Soviet republics. At Ellis Island the Immigration
Officer took one look at the name, declared there were too many
letters in it, and (who says these folks did not have a sense of
humor?) declared that from now on the family would be called
“Alphabet.” At the time I knew him Joe had a very successful
business selling after-market motorcycle exhaust systems:
http://nostalgiaonwheels.blogspot.com/2011/06/alphabet-header-pipes.html.
Scroll down to the June 30th
entry and be sure to follow the link there for pictures and other
“Joe lore.”
He
had, as many do, misjudged the off-camber turn and spun off
backwards, past the “scenic overlook” turnout, and ended up with
his 308 sideways and halfway over the cliff. If not for the fact that
significant rain had fallen within the last week and therefore the
ground had more purchase than usual, we would have been scraping him
out of the desert floor. Somehow Sherri and I wound up as part of the
recovery effort...and Joe was still in the car when we got there in
my 2+2. But he had made up his mind to exit...except he crawled out
on the downhill side as that was the way the driver's side of the car
wound up. I understand that he did not want to risk destabilizing
things further by trying to crawl back to the uphill side...no mean
trick in the cramped cabin of a 308, but it scared the hell out of
me. I told him he was one lucky man.
Dr.
Steve Tillum was the head of the Neurosurgery Department at Kaiser in
Redwood City. We met Steve in an earlier post. I believe I told the
story of him adding a full case of oil to his newly purchased but
badly leaking 275GTB/C Competione. I had no familiarity with dry sump
systems then and was staggered by the sheer thought of where 10
quarts of oil was going.
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| Yeah, I know I used this photo before But this has always been one of my favorites A sleeper of a non-factory racer and wolf in...another wolf's clothing Note the identifying "shark gills" behind the rear wheel |
Steve
flipped the car, though I no longer know where on the course this
occurred. So I'm not going to be able to blame it on turn 16...but
I'll still harbor the suspicion.
At
any rate, Steve's home was in upscale Atherton, pretty close to our
own much more humble abode in San Carlos. We also happened to have
the only (marginally) four place Ferrari headed anywhere near his
place. He was understandably quiet and no doubt somewhat shook up
(and not only financially) but gladly accepted our offer to drive him
home.
I
no longer recall if he was able to change his clothes, but I'm sure
he was not able to shower, as he reeked of the gasoline which poured
over him when the car upended. It was pretty nauseating, yet much too
cold to risk opening the windows...and the rear ones in the 2+2 were
wing type and not roll down anyway.
Trying
to make light of it...I suggested that his new deodorant might bear
reconsidering.
My
own near disaster occurred the same year John hit the wall...claiming
he smelled Sherri's home baked chocolate chip cookies, which he
loved, and was distracted by them. Like me he also won his class, but
unlike me was given the “Big Wheel” award...a ride on one of
those child's toys
granted to the person with the biggest screwup of the weekend. I was
never in favor of making light of crashes, particularly on what is
really a pretty dicey course. I hope the FCA has abandoned the
practice.
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| You also had to ride around the restaurant in it |
In
Saturday's practice turn 16 reared up and bit me. I either entered
too hot or too early...perhaps both. The car 180'd and spun into the
scenic overlook, coming to rest backwards. As I got out it was
apparent that in another six feet it was I who would have been
scenically “overlooked.” It was certainly instantly sobering. I
think my time for my best run up the hill was in the area of 4:28. I
know in places I topped 100mph.
At
Sunday night's banquet Jules Moritz came up to Sherri and me and
asked what the noise was in my run on Saturday. Sherri looked at me
and said “weren't going to tell me about it, were you?'
“There's
nothing to tell,” I replied. I have no idea what happened or why,
but after that the turn became 2nd
gear (which is still good for well over 85 in the car, BTW) rather
than 3rd.
I screwed up, and made sure it would not happen again.”
I
don't think I ever ran the event again, but not because of fear. Once
I got into vintage racing I no longer did track or performance runs
with the Ferrari and, over the years as the club changed and there
were fewer and fewer older cars seen, there were likewise fewer and
fewer times it made sense to use it. From six or seven of us blasting
down some empty two-lane and, inevitably stopping to help someone
whose car had broken, it became 30 or more cars pushing the envelope
in significant traffic, and reached a head when I asked the guy ahead
of me in the lunch line at the annual picnic which car was his and
was told it was far too valuable to drive.
That
pretty much did it for me and I left the club and, years later, sold
the car. More about that in another post sometime in the future. I
would not hesitate to run Virginia City again if I had something
appropriate with which to do so...but I would do it with a lot more
driving knowledge, skill, and (hopefully) maturity as well as respect
for its dangers than I had when I and the world were younger.
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