Through the Corkscrew...Again

Through the Corkscrew...Again

You might be able to tell by now that I have spent literally decades driving Laguna Seca. When we lived in San Carlos, twenty minutes south of the San Francisco airport, the drive to Sears Point was marginally shorter, yet I always have considered Laguna “home.” There is just something magic about the place.

Of course the iconic Corkscrew...the steepest drop in the shortest distance on any racetrack in the world, would be enough on its own to make the place special, but there is much, much more. The beauty of the hills, the sheer peacefulness after the track shuts down or on non-race days, the hawks circling slowly over the slopes...even the cold wind driven fog rolling through at night which can be so heavy it looks like rain going sideways.

Or maybe it is just that I have so much history there...so many races, so many Ferrari club track days...so many nights camped in tents or sleeping in the bed of a pickup...so many days with friends who became closer than family in that they shared what is, after all, a dangerous pursuit that is hard to logically justify...my younger son grew up there and developed his own deep love of the place as well as respect for ancient and beautiful works of art executed in sculptured metal...meant to enjoy in movement, smell, and sound as well as sight.

I was there before the paddock was paved and we all fought to get there early enough to pit under the one tree. I was there before they put in bathrooms with running water and we all stood around in awe looking at them. I was there when our track events had the “whump” of live artillery shells to punctuate our own exotic exhaust notes. I was there chatting with Paul Newman when Newman/Haas Racing was headquartered there. I was there when Adin had become a young man and we shared a three day Skip Barber racing school together. I was there when Phil Hill and Bill Morton both pretty much breathed their last at the track. I could wish no less for my own passing from this earth.

It was during the Ferrari Owners Club track days following the earliest Monterey Historic races that I first worked up the nerve to drive the track. By the time I decided that I could somehow afford a “modest” vehicle with the Prancing Horse gracing the hood the Historics were a year or two old and the FOC had a large tent up by the scoring trylon with food and drinks...a comfortable place to get out of the sun and noise when the intensity of both became too much.

For a true novice like myself the club paired me with an experienced driver...I'd like to believe it was David Love, as I am sure he later was one of my instructors when I got into vintage racing, but I actually think it was a pro instructor who was also a club member. I remember he had a 330GT 2+2 and even remember the sort of metallic blue color but have forgotten his name. I do recall him riding with me and coaching me for several laps..telling me how to manage a car that was big, heavy, and, due to the engine being pushed forward to allow for two back seats, had significant understeer...in fact, it was largely due to his information that, for the first time, I began to truly understand the term.

Within a year or so I was at least adept enough to get around the track in a lively manner without risking damage to myself or the car. 40 years later I will say, as I told my partner at the Barber class I mentioned above, that in that time I probably have taken every turn on the track perfectly at least one, but have never ever done all of them that way on a single lap.

Wahoo!*

But 40 years on it still gives me chills to think of how lucky I have been to have the opportunities to try.

*Note the young lady's hand grabbing the outside of the door. A definite no-no. This was Lois Ott and her first time on a race track. She got so hooked that she became a regular competitor in FOC track days and very active in event management and driving her and her husband's 308GT4