I had discovered a few things over the course of the day. First was that there was a helicopter chasing me everywhere I went.
That pipe, coming out of the header (from my number two cylinder) in a J and leading right into the used section of an older, less-well-constructed 90-degree turn had rotted through.
1-4-3-POW!-1-4-3-POW! Not a good sound. I rigged the pipe together and closed the gap with baling wire and started the car while I was in the infield. I weighed the risk factor to benefit ratio and listened to the repair job, and the POW! had been muted somewhat. I couldn't feel a noticeable blowby on the back of my hand with the pipe immobilized to several points, and decided to risk it anyway. No harm done, but I think there could have been a better way to go about it.
Water under the bridge now, and it's being fixed. More on that later, when I have pictures from today's happenings in the shop.
I lined the car up with the others in the infield and waited for the tech inspection. It was pretty easy; "Helmet?" "Yup." "Okay." They looked for seatbelts, too. Done, I moved into the second line of cars.
There were all kinds of VWs in the lineup. I watched these guys, some of whom were probably club racers, as they negotiated the cones. The rear-engined guys especially had a hard time of it, most notably going low to high on the course. I couldn't see why, and I didn't feel it until it was my turn, but I think I understand what was happening. As I came out for my laps, I had to make a left turn and get on the gas.
The first two times around (they let you out for one, in for everyone else, out for one, in for everyone else again and then your third; you're done after that) I didn't really gas the car as much as I should have to get to the start/finish line. I don't know what I was thinking, but maybe I could have improved my times a bit if I had. It was the strangest feeling I've had in the car since we got done with major construction and put it on the streets for the first time.
You guys already know this, but the cars aren't huge. Two cones, 10 feet apart, shouldn't be intimidating -- and you'd think I'd be able to nail them first-time, every time. Not so. You'd also think that driving it as much as I do I'd have a better idea of how it handles than the next guy, who maybe races his car for a couple hours on weekends. Again, not so.
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