gaijin
06-27-2005, 05:23 PM
A LAP AT LIME ROCK WITH BUTCH LEITZINGER
Braselton, Ga. - I love Lime Rock. Of all of the circuits that I've driven, it's my favorite. I love everything about it. I love the track. I love the bumps. I love the park-like setting. I love that we have Sunday off, so that we can spend a civilized day exploring the local shops and restaurants. I love that it's only five hours from my house (four and a half if I'm really on it). Others may complain that Lime Rock is too small for cars of our size and power. Rubbish. Lime Rock is what our cars were made for.
I wouldn't normally make such an openly affectionate declaration, especially about an inanimate object. But I've been asked to write a piece about what it's like to drive a lap of Lime Rock, and it seemed appropriate to establish that I am not a disinterested party.
I've been coming to Lime Rock since I was 3. All of my Fourth of July holidays were spent on the hill outside Turn 1, watching the fireworks. I've raced all sorts of cars at Lime Rock, from Showroom Stock Nissans to a NASCAR Busch North Thunderbird to the Lola that I'm driving this year for Dyson Racing.
With all of that experience, you'd think that it would be a breeze to write this. The problem is, I've seen some essays that other drivers have written on laps of other tracks, and they include everything: their braking point, entry speed, gear position, calories consumed and relative position of the planets at the point of throttle application. I don't remember any of that.
Some drivers have photographic memory. I think that I have impressionist painter's memory. I have a pretty good idea of what's involved; it just gets a bit fuzzy when you go into much detail. Do I remember which way to turn at the end of the front straight? Yes…right turn, definitely a right turn. Do I remember what gear I use for it? Umm…third? No, wait, fourth. Maybe second. Luckily, it all comes back as soon as I take to the track on the race weekend. That still leaves me with this essay to write. Well, I'll see if I can fake my way through it.
Going down the front straight to begin a lap at Lime Rock, everything is lovely. To your left you can see the spectators on the hill, sitting on their blankets, having a nice day watching the races. At this point I'm in a gear (we'll call it sixth), and enjoying myself immensely. Shortly after passing the pit lane on the right, a feeling of danger creeps in, which I'll soon realize is due to the fact that the straight is reaching it's end, and that I will have to turn (to the right). Survival instincts kick in at this point, and I press the brake pedal very hard, and go down two (or maybe three or four) gears, and turn right. I should mention that the first turn is officially known as Big Bend. When I was very small, I thought that it was called Big Ben, but then I found out that that was the name of a very large alarm clock in England. Anyway, if all goes well, I emerge from Big Bend unscathed.
This brings us to the short chute leading to the Esses. When I come out of Big Bend, I line the car up heading straight for the restroom in the infield. Speaking of which, be sure to tip the attendant. The Esses consists of a long left turn followed by a right turn. It is directly below the main spectator area, so if you make a mistake, you can be sure that the maximum number of people will witness it.
The Esses then lead to No-Name Straight. It seems fairly odd to me that someone would go to the trouble to name a straight No-Name Straight. Not to mention that it's not even a straight, but a right-left bend. Apparently New Englanders enjoy their sense of irony.
Next up is the Uphill Turn, which used to be a fast fourth (third?) gear turn until John Morton did a back-flip, which brought in a new chicane. As chicanes go, it's not bad. This exits to the West Bend, which has the distinction of being the only turn where I have not spun out, crashed or otherwise messed up on the circuit. The reason for that is that when I went to driver's school here, the instructor said that everyone who goes off at West Bend crashes into the bridge, which never sounded like a good idea to me.
The last turn at Lime Rock is the Diving Turn, which is very fast (I'm pretty sure that it's fifth gear). As the previous paragraph insinuates, I've crashed here. If you were going to plan to crash somewhere, this would not be the place you would choose. There is a large bump just before the apex, which if you hit wrong will unsettle the car enough to send you into the grass, giving you a sickeningly long time to contemplate your errors before you eventually hit the wall.
But if you get through the last turn, you come out onto the front straight again, and get to enjoy the passing countryside once more, if only for a few seconds before it all begins again.
The New England Grand Prix, Round 4 of the American Le Mans Series, is set for 3 p.m. July 4 at Lime Rock Park. SPEED Channel will provide live coverage, along with American Le Mans Series Radio at www.americanlemans.com.
Braselton, Ga. - I love Lime Rock. Of all of the circuits that I've driven, it's my favorite. I love everything about it. I love the track. I love the bumps. I love the park-like setting. I love that we have Sunday off, so that we can spend a civilized day exploring the local shops and restaurants. I love that it's only five hours from my house (four and a half if I'm really on it). Others may complain that Lime Rock is too small for cars of our size and power. Rubbish. Lime Rock is what our cars were made for.
I wouldn't normally make such an openly affectionate declaration, especially about an inanimate object. But I've been asked to write a piece about what it's like to drive a lap of Lime Rock, and it seemed appropriate to establish that I am not a disinterested party.
I've been coming to Lime Rock since I was 3. All of my Fourth of July holidays were spent on the hill outside Turn 1, watching the fireworks. I've raced all sorts of cars at Lime Rock, from Showroom Stock Nissans to a NASCAR Busch North Thunderbird to the Lola that I'm driving this year for Dyson Racing.
With all of that experience, you'd think that it would be a breeze to write this. The problem is, I've seen some essays that other drivers have written on laps of other tracks, and they include everything: their braking point, entry speed, gear position, calories consumed and relative position of the planets at the point of throttle application. I don't remember any of that.
Some drivers have photographic memory. I think that I have impressionist painter's memory. I have a pretty good idea of what's involved; it just gets a bit fuzzy when you go into much detail. Do I remember which way to turn at the end of the front straight? Yes…right turn, definitely a right turn. Do I remember what gear I use for it? Umm…third? No, wait, fourth. Maybe second. Luckily, it all comes back as soon as I take to the track on the race weekend. That still leaves me with this essay to write. Well, I'll see if I can fake my way through it.
Going down the front straight to begin a lap at Lime Rock, everything is lovely. To your left you can see the spectators on the hill, sitting on their blankets, having a nice day watching the races. At this point I'm in a gear (we'll call it sixth), and enjoying myself immensely. Shortly after passing the pit lane on the right, a feeling of danger creeps in, which I'll soon realize is due to the fact that the straight is reaching it's end, and that I will have to turn (to the right). Survival instincts kick in at this point, and I press the brake pedal very hard, and go down two (or maybe three or four) gears, and turn right. I should mention that the first turn is officially known as Big Bend. When I was very small, I thought that it was called Big Ben, but then I found out that that was the name of a very large alarm clock in England. Anyway, if all goes well, I emerge from Big Bend unscathed.
This brings us to the short chute leading to the Esses. When I come out of Big Bend, I line the car up heading straight for the restroom in the infield. Speaking of which, be sure to tip the attendant. The Esses consists of a long left turn followed by a right turn. It is directly below the main spectator area, so if you make a mistake, you can be sure that the maximum number of people will witness it.
The Esses then lead to No-Name Straight. It seems fairly odd to me that someone would go to the trouble to name a straight No-Name Straight. Not to mention that it's not even a straight, but a right-left bend. Apparently New Englanders enjoy their sense of irony.
Next up is the Uphill Turn, which used to be a fast fourth (third?) gear turn until John Morton did a back-flip, which brought in a new chicane. As chicanes go, it's not bad. This exits to the West Bend, which has the distinction of being the only turn where I have not spun out, crashed or otherwise messed up on the circuit. The reason for that is that when I went to driver's school here, the instructor said that everyone who goes off at West Bend crashes into the bridge, which never sounded like a good idea to me.
The last turn at Lime Rock is the Diving Turn, which is very fast (I'm pretty sure that it's fifth gear). As the previous paragraph insinuates, I've crashed here. If you were going to plan to crash somewhere, this would not be the place you would choose. There is a large bump just before the apex, which if you hit wrong will unsettle the car enough to send you into the grass, giving you a sickeningly long time to contemplate your errors before you eventually hit the wall.
But if you get through the last turn, you come out onto the front straight again, and get to enjoy the passing countryside once more, if only for a few seconds before it all begins again.
The New England Grand Prix, Round 4 of the American Le Mans Series, is set for 3 p.m. July 4 at Lime Rock Park. SPEED Channel will provide live coverage, along with American Le Mans Series Radio at www.americanlemans.com.