Oct. 15, 2005 - One Lap of America
Actually one and a half laps...
Back in '87 I was sitting in the office minding my own business when I got a call from Ali Lugo D'Armas, a fellow who was fielding a team of Alfa Romeos in the IMSA Firehawk Endurance Series. Ali was in a bind and looking for an experienced rally navigator/co-driver and knew I had done a bit of rallying. I made a call to my co-driver, Boyd Smith, and asked if he would be interested in doing the One Lap. The answer was in the affirmative, and arrangements were made for Boyd's adventure.
A few weeks went by and I got another call from Ali. Seems he needed a driver as well. Would I be interested? Sure, why not? An all expenses paid works entry in the One Lap sounded like a lot of fun actually.
I was getting progress reports on the car in the days leading up to departure for the start, and things sounded pretty good. Roll Cage fitted, rally computer wired up, road and track wheels and tyres sorted, support van ready. They were testing the car just to make sure all systems were go. Great. It was reassuring to know that thing were being professionally prepared. Arrive and drive...
Departure. Up at 0400 in Boston for the trek to the west of Mass to join the crew with the car and and van and head to Detroit for the start. Nice drive out the Pike in the early morning hours, no Police spotted and the 930 ate up the miles with ease at a respectable speed. Beautiful sunrise behind me. What a way to start the trip!
Arrived at my destination expecting to see a large country house with outbuildings and garages filled with historic race cars. I was looking forward to perusing Ali's collection which included a D Type and vrious other rarities. Drove right past, but out of the corner of my eye caught sight of a wrecked Alfa Romeo Firehawk car. Surely this little cottage can't be the place! Must be the gatehouse or something...
Drove around a bit, found nothing more likely, pulled in and tried the door. It was unlocked. A few guys were sleeping on the couches, and downstairs in the celler garage I could hear noises. There was Boyd, wiring up the rally computer, a job I was assured was done weeks ago. Hmmm...
Next to the car sat the roll cage. Interesting, as this had supposedly been installed weeks ago as well. Turns out the cage wasn't even for the Milano, but came from the crashed GTV in the yard. It was rather bent, and even if straight would not really fit the Milano. We had our work cut out for us now.
I noticed that Boyd was attaching the Hall sensor to take a reading off the drive shaft. That would have made for some interesting moments late on, as the Milano had a transaxle. We decided to take the pulses off the two front wheels instead.
Fitting the cage involved some serious work with the acetylene torch, sledge hammer and come along. We then had to shim it up some as it was a good six inches too low. A lot of drilling and a stack of metal plates, some threaded rod, and we had something that at least looked like a proper cage.
The clock was ticking away all the while, the start was scheduled for the following day, and we had a good ways to travel. It turned out we had three drivers: Boyd, myself and the young pretty boy dickhead retard who presented himself to us sometime during the day. This guy was special. Words just don't seem to describe him, but he informed us that he was the track driver, the job which I had be chosen for, and he would also be the model for any photo opportunities. In addition to being a profesional driver, he was a male model, a helicopter pilot and had an exceptionally high opinion of himself. Oh well...takes all kinds.
Ali himself appeared and gave us his girlfriends credit card to use for all our purchases. Interesting. He assured me that dickhead was just along for the ride and would spend his time driving the support van, and that I would be driving on the tracks. He figured the kid would throw a hissy fit if we told him now, possibly dropping out so we left for Detroit, twelve hours late, with him thinking he was the star of the show. We really needed the extra driver as Boyd had been up all night.
With pretty boy driving the van and me driving the Alfa with Boyd co-piloting after an all nighter building the car we headed north for the Mass 'pike. Pretty boy headed south for Lime Rock in the van. This was to become a recurring theme. We managed to catch him with the SB radio and get him pointed in the right direction, at least temporarily. I was starting to doubt his stories about helicopters already. When we got to the 'pike, for some reason he wanted to head east... Every time we had to turn for the next ten days or so would be a repeat.
We stopped for petrol soon after setting off, and got another little surprise, although I really was not about to be surprised by anything at this point. The card that Ali had provided to us didn't work. We are heading off for ten thousand miles with a duff card. Great. Looks like mine will be getting a workout. I'll be reimbursed so no problem...
After a few hours of driving the van, pretty boy stated whinging. He wanted to drive the Alfa to "get a feel for it". We pulled over and traded places. Of course neither of us would ride with him, Boyd was still rather sleepy and we had some distance yet to cover. I reminded pretty boy that radar detectors were illegal in Canada and that he was to grab my Passport off the windscreen if he saw a cop.
Of course the next thing you know he was stopped by the RCMP and the cop simply grabbed my Passport and thanked him for it.
We arrived at Windsor and drove through the tunnel to Detroit. Pretty boy had managed to get lost. He was tailgating us as we entered the tunnel but somehow manged to miss it and proceeded to the water's edge. We had to talk him through a couple approaches and he finally managed to enter the tunnel. I'm not sure how he managed to do it, but he came out the other end as well!
We arrived at the hotel to meet Richard Hughes, who was a one lap veteran, having competed the previous year with John Buffum and Grimshaw in an Audi. Richard has an aversion to clothes and was in his usual attire, or lack thereof when we met him in the hotel room. He then told us that things wer even more complex than we thought. For complex, read FUBAR. Seems that Ali had entered into an agreement with this Massimo fellow from Italy, an older gentleman with some racing experience.
Massimo had sponsorship from West cigarettes and a pile of decals to go on the car. He had been sold the bonnet, and virtually the entire car. Seems the bonnet had been sold twice, as Richard had a monstrous decal for it as well... Between the One Lap official decals and the West Decals, we needed at least one more car.
Oh, and by the way, Massimo was going to drive the car on the tracks.
One more twist: Massimo spoke not a word of English. I rang an Italian friend in Detroit and asked him if he wanted to come along as interpreter. He jumped at the chance so problem solved.
There was some serious to-ing and fro-ing with regard to the decals, who had paid for what, and threats of pulling the entry etc. I decided to grab a little shut-eye and let things solve themselves. At this point I couldn't be bothered. I don't think that Brock Yates was overly impressed with the carry-on.
The car was stickered up, teched, and we took the start. Not an auspicious start at that. Boyd, Richard and I were in the Alfa, Pretty Boy, Massimo and Interpreter in the van....
To be continued
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