In June of 1997, while working at Papyrus Design Group, I was notified that I and fellow employees Rick Baker, Dave Matson, and Kasson Crooker would attend the Buck Baker Racing School at Rockingham, NC. For those of you who don't know, the Buck Baker school is a NASCAR Winston Cup training program that has seen the likes of Jeff Gordon, John Force, Johnny Benson, Ward and Jeff Burton, and many many others. It is held over three days at a variety of Winston Cup race tracks. The track we were to attend is widely known as one of the most demanding tracks on the Winston Cup circuit -- which is why it is known as "The Rock."
To say I was excited goes too far into understatement to describe. I have been a racing fan all my life, and I am particularly obsessive about NASCAR. In fact, I moved my family 2500 miles to Boston just to work here, just because Papyrus does racing simulations. I thought that was as close as I'd ever come to really racing. Was I ever wrong -- now I had the chance to hop into a real stock car on a real track... and go really fast!
We left
Papyrus on Thursday July 10th and flew into Raleigh. After
picking up our rental Monte Carlo (ask Rick how well it drove,
then duck), we headed off on I-40 to US 1, aiming for Southern
Pines and the Hampton Inn. For those of you who like golf, that
area hosts the Pinehurst links, as well as about a hundred other
courses. On our way down, we got a great view of classic Southern
Americana (remember, I'm a Yankee tried and true) -- lots of
trucker motels, churches, a few tobacco farms, and even a barn
boasting a whole wall of hubcaps. I never knew there were
"Biscuitville" restaurants. And I'll never forget
seeing the exit to "Colon Road" with a construction
sign saying "Two Way Traffic."
We got in kind of late to Southern Pines. The Hampton Inn is situated just as you get into the Southern Pines shopping area, right next to a Winn-Dixie (which was heaven for a Mark Martin fan like me.. more on that later). We grabbed a pizza after checking in at the hotel, then went to Food Lion to stock up on water and Gatorade for the next day. As we put the styrofoam cooler into the trunk, we accidentally crunched off part of one side and cracked it all the way down the side. D'oh! Secretly, we all believed it was the fault of the black dog-thing (a singularly hideous sight that can only be described as... "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT THING!?") that wandered in front of our Chevy in the parking lot.
We woke up at 7:15am on Friday. Most of us were
insomniac due to our excitement and nerves, so we didn't have to
do much waking up at all. After scouring the town, we finally
decided on "Mac's Breakfast Anytime" (which,
ironically, is only open from 5am to 2pm). One word -- GREASE! We
were to find that most restaurants served things much greasier
than we were used to, we being Yankees and all. After loading up
on some malted waffles and eggs, we headed out to Rockingham.
Rockingham is about 15-20 miles south of Southern Pines on US 1. It rises up all of a sudden on the horizon -- first thing you see is a big yellow Prestone billboard on top of a big bank of grass. As you round the corner to the right, Rockingham is on your left, and the Rockingham Dragway is on your right. We pulled into the parking lot and, after about five minutes of searching, found the access tunnel to the infield. We piled out of the car and took a few pictures of the track. It seemed smaller than I imagined it. From a distance the turns don't seem very banked or very wide. But I knew from hearsay that images like that are deceptive, so I reserved judgment for later. Our first meeting was in the infield cafeteria, so we headed there.
At 9am we met Dick Emerick, our "den
mother" for the weekend, and Joe Poindexter, one of our
instructors. Joe gave us a quick introduction, and then dived
into a "what we'll be doing" speech. All of us were
pretty sober as he told us all the ways we could screw up.
"This is not a driving 'experience,'" he said.
"This is a racing school. You are here to learn to do what
the pros do. Some of you will go on to the advanced course and
eventually make it to the big time. There will be a million ways
to get yourself hurt out there -- we're not going to coddle you.
So be patient, start slow, and get to know your limits."
After the speech, we went around the room and introduced ourselves. We were the only real Yankees besides Alex and his business manager, and we quickly got nicknamed "The Boston Racing Team." Among the group was a Japanese fellow called Hiro who was there to get ready for the NASCAR exhibition in Suzuka in November, and Alex Padilla from the Indy Lights racing series, who was entertaining the idea of trying to make the inaugural Busch race at the new California Speedway in the fall. Not to mention the two building contractors from Florida with their pre-fabricated wives. I'm telling you, those two women had more enhancements than the Bionic Woman. Dave called them the "Implant Chicks." Add to the mix a surly kid named Michael Benson, who seemed to hate everyone and let his dad/grandpa/relative do the talking for him; a thirty-year-old mother of two named Cynthia from Kansas; and a dirt tracker from Tennessee named Jerry whose spray bottle/electric fan kept us cool for two days.
Following introductions, we went out and walked the
track to get the feel for the racing line. The banking up close
was INCREDIBLE! Standing on the apron, the asphalt is like a
black wall that reaches up about three or four stories. Turns one
and two are banked at 22 degrees, and three and four are 25
degrees. But it sure looks like more when you're standing on it
trying not to fall over. Joe gave us all a lot of information
that mostly went in one ear and out the other -- it was hard to
really capture what he was talking about just by walking the
track. Made for some good video footage, though.
Once we got back from that, we went for a drive in a minivan with Joe to get a driver's feel of the line. Going into the turns at 60mph in that van was unsettling. The van is top-heavy and doesn't like being at that angle. But it gave us a good reference for when we eventually got out there on our own. Following that we had a quick overview of the cars -- harness system, water and oil temperature, oil pressure, tach, and ignition/starter systems. It went pretty well, except for me -- I bashed my arms on the roof and window ledge trying to get in. Next, we got fitted for driving suits and helmets, and then it was time for the instructors to take us around the track. We had heard the cars out on the track getting warmed up and we couldn't wait to get in there and try it on for size.
I was the first one to go out. I won't lie -- I was scared out of my mind. Joe was my driver and we were going out in a replica of the Mark Martin Valvoline car. Even the thought of driving in my favorite driver's stock car didn't make me feel any less nervous. I wedged myself into the right-hand seat of the car and fastened my five-point Simpson harness. The car smelled like high-octane gas, exhaust, and rubber -- a very sweet combination. I noticed my seat didn't have rib protection; Joe told me to wrap my arm around the center rollcage cross-bar for support. He took me out for a five lap run, starting out at 3000 rpm which is roughly 60-70mph. It was much different from the van -- the car stuck like glue to the track and you could feel the G-forces pulling stronger in the turns. The first two laps around were slow so I could get the hang of the line and the cockpit procedure -- exit turn, check mirror, check a gauge (water 180-200, oil pressure 60-80), set up for turn. Then Joe put the spurs to it, and instantly my brain flew out my ears and my stomach fell to the floor of the car. We dived into the turns and I felt like I was in a NASA centrifuge. Joe was motioning for me to watch his hands on the wheel ("Steady, no movement -- just smooth"), but I could barely hold on. After the fifth lap we dropped low on the backstretch (there were two other cars out there at the time), Joe waved his arm and tested the brakes, and then we dropped off the banking and into the pits. I was sweating getting out of the car, but I was PUMPED! It had to have been the most exciting thing I'd ever done. I asked Joe later how fast we were going. Since our reference was tachometer readings, he told me we hit about 6800rpm at the end of the backstraight. To give you perspective, Winston Cup drivers hit 8-9000rpm (depending on gearing). Incredible!
Joe and I switched places after everyone had had their rides, and I went around for about 5 laps (driving the 6 car! YES!). The car was still running, but I was afraid I'd stall it going out of the pits. Not to worry -- I slid out of the pit stall like I had done it for years. During my run I had a death grip on the wheel and only went 3000rpm, mostly out of fear that I would do something wrong. Joe would reach over and adjust my line with the wheel as I went around to give me an idea of where to lift and where to accelerate. Afterwards, he said I was "very tense," but that I "seemed to know where I was going." That gave me a confidence boost, and I hoped for better things during the two solo sessions later in the day.
After lunch at Wendy's in Rockingham (which, by the
way, is like a NASCAR shrine), it was time to start the driving
in earnest. At Buck Baker, they kick you out of the nest VERY
quickly. Your first solo is with five other students on the track
at a time -- and we had about 5 laps in these cars, total!
Talk about intimidation. I learned to my joy that I was assigned
the 6 car for Friday and Saturday, so I climbed in and strapped
in. After the instructor mounted the steering wheel on the
column, I flipped the ignition switch to on and flicked up the
starter switch. The motor roared to life, and I must tell you it
was the most heart-stoppingly adrenalizingly cool sound I'd ever
heard. The instructor pointed at me, and off I went. It was a
different experience this time. I felt completely at home in the
car by myself, and I hit every mark on my line. I made it up to
about 3500rpm during the first 10 lap run. Thanks to a cloudy day
and a good breeze, it was only about 100 degrees in the car -- it
was quite comfortable. I couldn't believe I was at the wheel of a
Winston Cup stock car, but it was happening and I felt wonderful.
The car seemed to have limitless power and would go anywhere I
put it on the track. The car actually felt better at higher
speeds.
My
second 10-lapper was a bit more intense. Kasson was ahead of me
in the #87 Olds, a Hutcherson-Pagan car that was Cale
Yarborough's last Winston Cup ride. I was coming up on him in
turn three, and I was hoping to set up a pass on the front
stretch. I had shifted from first to fourth coming out of the
pits on this run, so I wanted to make up for it by having a
technically good session. Kasson went into turn three too low --
he forgot to check a gauge on the backstretch and tried to do it
quickly in the turn. He clipped the apron of the track with his
left front, which got the car way out of shape. About four car
lengths behind him I was sighting my marks in turn three. I
looked up to see Kasson shoot up the banking and shuffle along
the wall. I didn't have time to be startled -- I rolled gently
out of the throttle, chucked the shifter into neutral, and dove
down pit road to avoid him, just as Joe waved the yellow to bring
everyone in. Kasson was okay -- he just took some paint off of
the right side of the car. But he left a big black tire mark on
the wall -- all of us looked at that the rest of the weekend to
remind ourselves that it only took a little bit to get in over
your head.
Although I was pretty shaken at having a near miss on my first day, I was elated at the progress I had made. My best lap was a 45 second lap. Sure, it was 20 seconds slower than the qualifying record, but it felt fast to me. All of us were eager to get on with some faster laps the next day.
Day
two was basically a two-driver session for the Boston Racing
Team. Kasson was still hesitant to leap back into the car, so he
decided to take a day to think about it. Dave had been
reacquainting himself with his dinner from the previous evening
all night, and at lunch we took him back to the hotel to sleep it
off. So it was basically Rick and me for most of the day.
While waiting for our first runs, the Papyrus group talked a lot with Alex Padilla. He and his business manager, John Morgan, were very open and friendly, and soon took to spending a lot of time with us at the track. They were big fans of NASCAR 2 and IndyCar 2, and when Alex was not driving they would hang around with us and do the cock'n'bull. Alex has raced with a lot of notables (Buzz Calkins, Gualter Salles, Jerry Nadeau, and others) and we had a great time schmoozing with him. We told him about GPL, and when we mentioned it he got a gleam in his eye and told us he'd be by the office to try it out soon. He was VERY cool, incredibly laid back and just a great all-around guy. Not to mention a fast driver -- he consistently had the best session times and was signed up for the advanced course, which was one-on-one with Randy Baker (Buck's son) on the track.
Buck wasn't feeling well on the first day, but on Saturday he was fit as a fiddle. He regaled us with stories of racing the Southern 500 with a pair of vise grips as his steering wheel, of landing an airplane in the Rockingham infield because he was late for the race ("They told me to disassemble it to get it out of there. I told them the only way I'd disassemble the sumbitch was on the turn two wall as I flew it outta there."), and a million other stories. He is an incredibly tough guy. A couple years back someone came to the school with a custom-built bus-style motor home. Before anyone knew what was going on, Buck had the bus on the banks and was running laps with it. Joe, our instructor, was with him, and he told us it was the most scared he'd ever been in his life. But ol' Buck at 78 is tougher than anyone I've ever met.
To illustrate -- during one of the sessions Buck climbed into a Craftsman Truck that Randy had been testing that morning. Buck shuffles along very slowly when he walks and spends most of the day in the air-conditioned van instead of walking around. But once his helmet is on -- LOOK OUT! Before the poor students on the track knew it, Buck was passing them high, passing them low, and with one poor fellow who was getting a reputation for ignoring his mirrors even trading paint in turn three! He was driving like a wild man out there, but you never questioned if he had control or not. After he slowly exited the truck, he had a big ol' grin on his face. I could only pity the guys that were on the track and privately thank my lucky stars that I wasn't out there during that session. At class pictures, Buck put up an "OK" sign but told us, "This don't mean you're okay, it means you're a bunch of assholes." Everyone was a "sumbitch" or an "asshole," but somehow you would take it as a compliment. What a guy!
I built my speed up steadily during the four runs I had on Saturday. Although I had a problem of entering turn one late, the instructors told me that I had a solid and consistent line. I told them I'd better have a consistent line after doing lap files! Someone was timing the laps and told me that I had worked down from 45 seconds to about 38 seconds. I was running in the region of 4500-5000 rpm in the straights. Not a blistering pace, but faster than I'd ever hoped to go in my life. I could tell that I was going markedly faster -- the G-forces were starting to pull on me in the turns. But the car was still rock solid and I still felt completely at ease.
During my second session, I had another scare. On the backstretch a piece of sand flew into my left eye and blinded me. I was at a point where I couldn't slow down to pit, so I was forced to hold my line through the turn with only one eye available. On the frontstretch I went low and waved the cars behind me on by, but I couldn't clear the sand out of my eye. Somehow I made it back to pit road without incident. How Ernie Irvan did it at race speeds wearing a patch is beyond me -- I had a handful at 4000rpm.
After class was over, Alex told us that Buck had invited him to dinner, and he asked us if we wanted to come along. Well, we couldn't turn that down for anything. We went to the Lob Steer Inn, a favorite hangout for NASCAR drivers when they're in Rockingham. Buck and Joe sat us down and Buck called the cook to the table. Buck told him, "Give these sumbitches whatever they want to eat." After the cook left, Buck said, "Sometimes I let that boy come out to the track and run so's I can get good food here. The sumbitch can't drive worth a shit, but he sure can cook." Buck only stayed through about half of dinner, but he spent the whole time telling us stories about Joe Weatherly, Curtis Turner, Tim Flock, and some famous drivers who had been through his school. He told us that John Force "could drive 500mph on the straights, but when a turn came up he didn't know what the hell to do." He also said that ARCA is the best inroad to Winston Cup, not Busch -- I found that particular tidbit interesting.
After Buck and Joe left, Alex picked up the tab and suggested we head over to Mini-Pines, a mini-golf/kart track nearby. We got lost, and on our way back Alex got pulled over for speeding. I guess the cop didn't believe Alex's story about being an Indy Lights driver, so Alex has to go back in August for a court date. Alex, of course, plans to appeal. We ran one lapping session at the kart track. We got whistled at a lot by the "officials" for rough driving, but we had a heck of a time and swapped a lot of paint. None of us could believe how genuinely friendly Alex and John were. Definitely a guy to root for come race day.
I went to bed happy with my progress but still wanting some more speed. I had the line down and was comfortable in the car, but I wasn't really pushing myself because I was more concerned with technique. Rick, on the other hand, was a rocket-driver and was one of the fastest cars on the track. Day three was shaping up to be an intense final session.
Our final day at Buck Baker saw us doing some different things. Alex and Randy were picking up their speeds a lot. They were running 6500rpms about a foot away from each other out there. We were all very impressed that our friend and classmate was doing so well coming from open-wheeled racing. The advanced exercises Randy was putting Alex through took our breath away. It really highlighted the chasm between professionals and amateurs.
Dave was feeling better, and Kasson decided that it was time to get back into the driver's seat, so the Boston Racing Team was at full strength. Most of the one- and two-day students had gone home, so it was us and about 8 other people left to run lapping sessions. Joe promised us that today we'd do something a bit different than just hotlapping -- we didn't care. We just wanted to be in the cars as much as possible.
Our first of four sessions was a pitting practice. We were to run a normal 10 lap run, but when we came into the pits Pineapple (another instructor -- he grew up in Hawaii in case you were curious) would be holding a pit sign. We'd have to hit our marks in the pit stall and tap the left front fender of the car on the pit board to get it done right. I had switched cars from the 6 car to Kasson's #87 Olds, which had only gotten paint damage. It fit me a whole lot better than the 6 car but it had a very sensitive throttle and steering. My whole 10 lap run was trying to get a handle on the car. When I got the white flag from the flagstand (and yes, you can see things VERY clearly from the car) I pulled low and dove for the pits. Once on the apron I threw it in neutral and coasted down pit road. There were about four cars in the pits and Pineapple was holding the sign between two cars. ACK! I made it into the pits without crashing, though, so I was happy.
The
next new item was passing practice. Until now we had been passing
only on the outside on the straightaways -- the slower car would
move down low and wave the faster car past. Now we were
instructed to go out in pairs, four cars at a time, and make
passes on the low side of the track. I was paired with Rick, who
was wicked fast out on the track. For this session, I was put
into yet another car, a Lumina, while Rick took his normal ride,
which was the #23 Smokin' Joes car. I could never get comfortable
in the Lumina -- there was a dead spot in the steering wheel and
the throttle didn't seem to want to roll out smoothly in the
turns, so I had a handful for the whole session. Not to mention
the fact that Rick had me outclassed in the speed department! He
had agreed to take it easy so we could get used to passing, but
immediately I found that I could never catch him on the straights
in time to make a safe, clean pass. The first couple of times I
tried a late pass, but I would enter the turn WAY too hot, and
the second time I tried it I smelled burning rubber as I whipped
up the banking. So I decided I'd only pass if I had position on
him, which turned out to be a total of four times in ten laps.
After the session, Rick very generously told me that he was sorry
I couldn't catch up -- I was too humiliated to really answer
intelligently.
During our normal sessions, we were all very gratified to see Kasson get back into the car. He took it really easy, and none of us blamed him. But we didn't care -- he was back in the seat and out on the track and that was all that mattered. We could tell Kasson was pretty happy with it too.
Our final session of the school was a fifteen lap run. Joe warned us that even five extra laps would be a lot, and if we got tired we should park it immediately. I wasn't about to do that -- this was my chance to really show myself what I could do. Thankfully, I was back in the 87, and by the second lap I had gotten the revs up to 5500rpm at the end of the straights. One of my problems throughout the weekend was the frontstretch; Rockingham is a "D" shaped track, and the frontstretch curves around in inconsistent sections of wall. So if you try to "chase" the wall, you'll end up in it really quick. On the other hand, if you take the stretch too low, you end up at the entrance of turn one in a very bad position that forces you to wrench the wheel over and dive into the turn hot. The way to get through it is to sight on a section of wall out of turn four, and then straddle a seam in the asphalt that runs the length of the straightaway. If you do it right, you can hold the wheel motionless at 10 and 2 and the car will drive itself in the perfect line all the way down, with the stagger and setup doing the arc for you. I had never hit it exactly right all weekend -- only one or two others had, really. I was always too low, probably because I didn't trust the wall. On my fourth lap of the session, I suddenly hit it -- I swung out of four solidly on the seam and forced myself to hold the car there. The wall came up on the right side of the car, and then dropped away. The car did just what the instructors said -- it walked itself right down the front stretch and plopped me in the perfect turn one entry line. It was GREAT! After that, I started pushing a little harder. At one point on the backstretch I looked at the tach and it read 6000rpm. The G-forces were really yanking on me by now, but the car stuck wonderfully on the track. All too soon the white flag was waving and I had to come down pit road. It was 94 degrees outside, and before my run I had sat for 15 minutes baking in the car. After the run the in-car temperature was easily 130 degrees. And after I pulled the Nomex suit off, I found I had burned my right leg slightly on the bell housing. But I could have run a thousand more laps -- I wasn't even tired, and I was putting down my best laps of the weekend. I timed Rick's laps and he was running 32 second laps -- I'd guesstimate my best lap at around a 33 or 34 second lap.
All too soon it was over. The instructors thanked
us, invited us to come back, and then we were headed to the
parking lot. We got pictures of us with Alex and John, took some
photos by "The Rock," and then we headed back to the
hotel. We stopped for dinner at the Lob Steer again and then
camped out in our rooms, already homesick for the track. To
console myself I went to Winn-Dixie and bought 20 bucks of Mark
Martin memorabilia, including a Chek Cola can and some Cheez Bits
with Mark's picture on them (the cola and crackers cost me 54
cents).
The school was over far too early for our tastes. In those three days we had gotten closer to Winston Cup racing than most people will ever get. We were in the driver's seat at one of the toughest tracks in NASCAR and we acquitted ourselves admirably. The school fulfilled a dream I never thought I'd realize -- racing a Winston Cup car. I gained a whole new perspective on NASCAR racing -- those of you who haven't experienced it just can't comprehend how difficult it is to just keep the car on the track, much less do it in heavy traffic at those speeds. I think all of us pretty much agree that Buck Baker's school was the coolest thing we'd ever done.