The Laguna Seca Curse, Part 1
I know what you’re thinking. That I crashed a car. I did. But this story really isn’t about that. It’s about what not to do after you ball it up.
The weekend was going to be great. Two full track days at Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca completely gratis. With parents living 45 minutes away, there wasn’t even a hotel bill to pay. And it would be my first real Laguna Seca experience, because the previous time ended on the 2nd lap of the 2nd session at turn two when the brake rotors broke off the hubs. That should have been a sign.inkjet definition oem software Download OEM Software The Logo Creator MEGA pak 3.6financial planning software australia Buy Cheap Oem Software Buy cheap photoshop cs 2 buy cheap photoshop cs 2 software 473.”iCorrect EditLab Pro 4.52″ Buy cheap OEM software software oem cd line business, Viagra 100 Mg
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Although I was a little nervous about Laguna’s ignominious walls, I tried not to worry about it lest I develop object fixation. The weather was seemingly perfect, which generally meant not so hot that my 1991 300ZX twin turbo would detonate. But it did. Detonation haunted me ever since I turned the boost up, so it wasn’t surprising, and during the lunch break I topped it off with anti-ping juice, $6 per gallon 100-octane gas. So I went out right after lunch, started feeling more comfortable with the track, and started giving it more gas. Until turn 11 that is, where my Z became inextricably attracted to the inside wall. Crunch. Smoke.
The session was black flagged until the tow truck came to drag my yellow hulk off the straight and back to our spot in the paddock. They threw a little kitty litter down where my car was bleeding out its life. After all the grief, Superhero Boyfriend jumped into action.
Soon he had a single-axle Miata-sized car hauler loaned by a racer friend, and a crew cab Ford F350 dually another friend used to haul a trailer full of motorcycles. Trucks and trailers were unhitched, shuffled around, and re-hitched. All that was left to do was load the Z and haul it back to my parents’ house.
But the Miata-haulin’ trailer was barely suitable even for a diminutive roadster. The door/ramp didn’t have what one might call structural rigidity. Somehow, with a combination of two by fours and cheap Harbor Freight jacks, we supported the ramp enough to get the 3,500-lb wreck squeezed into the trailer. Exiting the car necessitated climbing out of the window. That wasn’t so bad.
Bad started in Salinas, only five miles from the track. Clunk! Superhero Boyfriend ground the getup to a stop and we bailed out of the truck like delusional Ricky Bobbys. Our fear was that the trailer jumped bail. It did. The nose of the trailer was on the ground and some excellent scrapes on the asphalt led up to it. Well, the safety chains work. Naturally, there’s no photo evidence from here on out.
After raising the front of the trailer with its useful motorized lift, we hitched back up as tightly as possible and carefully went on our way. Every bump unnerved us, and Superhero Boyfriend was driving more smoothly than I’d ever seen. Going up and down the hills of Highway 101 wasn’t an ideal route, but there was no other way. Finally we reached Gilroy, 75% of the way home. There we opted to leave the freeway in favor of lower speeds on city streets and back roads.
Approaching a stoplight the trailer decided to free itself from the truck once again. This time it scarred more pavement and stopped itself on the truck’s rear end. The little electric motor that raised the trailer hitch wasn’t useful anymore. The truck bumper and tailgate also bore casualties. Not good. These weren’t ours to screw up. Traffic was heavier and piling up behind us.
While I went in back to wave traffic around, Superhero Boyfriend scrambled into the trailer and extracted the Harbor Freight jack. Jack, jack, jack. The jack wasn’t big enough to raise the trailer to the receiver hitch height. Right about then is when the police officer showed up. After a brief explanation and proclamation that we were fine, he was satisfied with us blocking the road and left. Back into the trailer for the big steel manly jack, more frantic jacking, and success!
We were driving again, this time being even more careful with starts and stops. Why was this happening? Were we that trailer-hitch incompetent? Everything seemed locked down. Boyfriend surmised that the weight of my car wasn’t properly balanced over the single axle of the trailer. Maybe it was too far back, pulling the tongue away from the ball hitch. After 10 more miles we pulled over again and cinched the car as far forward as space allowed, which wasn’t much. It was a miracle the whole rig made it up the 1,000 foot climb to my mom and dad’s place.
And that was only the beginning. When Mom saw the Z, I think she was more upset that it was wrecked than I was. That’s just what we needed to have around as the unloading began – a raving mad mother.
To be continued…