Learning Curve, 13 October

by Troy Arnold III            Posted 2014 Nov 10

When I stepped out of my room at the North Paddock at Virginia International Raceway well before dawn on October 13th, it was very dark and very wet. Not even the birds or insects were making noise. It was just the sound of soggy. I looked up and down the front straight, trying to see as far as I could, which wasn’t far. It occurred to me exactly what I was going to do that day — I would be driving a rain-drenched track I didn’t know, with a group of drivers I didn’t know, in an antique car whose limits and drawbacks I didn’t know. Besides that, it was going to be a breeze, right?

My somewhat-modified-but-not-exactly-dedicated-track-car, a 1980 Porsche SC, which I had driven down from Richmond in the rain the day before, was sitting in the parking lot under a lamp, water droplets running off the light silver paint. The interior had fogged up, thanks in part to no climate control in the car, and no sealed cabin either. But it started right up on the first crank, as if eager to warm up, dry out, and run. I rolled down to the tech inspection station and went through, just to ensure the lugs were tight and the car had four wheels. As the day began to dawn, drizzly and gray, we headed into the bright room for our first driver’s meeting. We had introductions and thanks yous and then got down to the business of learning the track. It was apparent most of the crowd had had some experience driving at VIR. I suppose for the advanced groups it was all old hat. Almost all of my track experience had been at Summit Point, in various cars over the years — some serious track cars, and others, basically bread trucks. But VIR is another story altogether — a world-class road track loved by some of the best drivers in the world. So we listed intently as a knowledgeable and enthusiastic Peter Krause explained about the line, apexes, vehicle dynamics, and the like, all the while driving the track in our minds. Perfectly, of course.

The faster groups got in some laps, and then suddenly it was the novice group’s turn. We lined up in pit lane, engines idling. I noticed with some trepidation that most of the other cars were much newer, more expensive, faster, and generally more capable cars than mine. But I patted the dash of my little SC, and smiled at the happy exhaust burble. An older instructor sauntered along the line and got into my passenger seat, as if I was giving him a ride to the drugstore. And then we were off. The first session was a blur of a) my “antique” wipers trying to clear drizzle and spray off the windshield b) my instructor telling me to accelerate and c) the gut-clenching feeling of the front and back end slipping and sliding as I tried to keep the car under control in the turns. I cared very little about going fast — my only desire was to avoid skimming off into the grass and having to be towed out, like the first contestant who gets voted off the island.

The next two sessions saw the sky begin to clear and the track dry up significantly. Watching the advanced run groups between sessions was fun and instructive. A veteran, who was driving his own track-modified early 70’s 911 in the advanced group, was kind enough to ride with me on the next session. His expert advice about how to drive the track, especially in an “old-school” (shifter and 915 transmission, traction control and ABS-free) 911 quickly erased my novice jitters and replaced them with increasing confidence. The tail-weighted SC was really starting to stick, and I was getting more and more enthusiastic about pressing the accelerator to the floor. At one of my favorite points, coming out of Turn 5 into Straights 6-9, the car absolutely launched forward, and I began to follow the cars in front of me much more aggressively. The SC was coming into its own, and its driver was learning.

Finally it all came together. The track was dry. The sun was out. Well, kinda. At least the visibility was now excellent. After four solid sessions I’d begun to learn the fundamentals of this famous course. And most importantly I’d begun to learn what my 34-year Porsche was capable of. We lined up again, but this time I was solo. (All the instructors were great, but it occurred to me briefly that it wasn’t the worst thing to remove 170 lbs from the passenger seat…I mean, weight is weight, right?). And then they flagged us out. My car felt lightweight and nimble but well planted. I accelerated strongly out of Turn 1, tires squealing the whole way, headed for the red flag on the roof at Turn 3, navigated Turn 4, then increasingly on the gas all the way through Turn 5. Heading down Straight 6 and 7, engine screaming up to 6100 RPM, shifting into 4th gear, then blasting up the hill, blipping the throttle at each rumble strip was an absolute blast. Tap the brakes and downshift back into 3rd at Turn 10, dive down into the valley at Straight 10 and then back up the hill to the infamous Turn 11 and 12 combo. Remember the line! Follow your novice inclination — or perhaps the rookie in front of you — and you could be in trouble, or at the very least, sloooooow. Brake straight before Turn 12, then turn in tight and get back on the gas as hard as possible into Straight 12 and 13. Get up to top speed in Straight 13 (I have no idea what that was because my 85 mph speedo was pinned!), up the hill fast, roller-coaster over the crest, then down the backside and on the brakes before Turn 13, steer left, brake hard and straight, then ease into Turn 14, then Turn 15, down the hill, drift left. When you realize between Turns 16 and 17 that your tiny tire patch going to hold and that you will NOT be piloting earth-moving equipment on THIS lap, you make your apex at Turn 17, and pour on the power to keep the back planted and accelerate like a slingshot bullet out onto the front straight and blast through the finish line!

This was my first time driving VIR, but it certainly won’t be my last!