Some Thoughts on Vintage Racing... I remember that little impromptu vintage race they had prior to the 12-Hour race over at Sebring back in the late 70’s. That small group of enthusiasts evolved into the SVRA, (then the Southeast Vintage Racers Association), CARE, and a few other fledgling organizations, into Vintage Racing as it is today. Being an SCCA Club racer and a Vintage driver myself, I see a big difference between the two. True, the purpose of a race is to win, but Vintage requires a little different mindset. My feelings on Vintage Racing are best summarized by this article written by BS don’t-leave-your- race-car-keys-lying-around Levy back sometime in the mid 80’s. I clipped it out of a sports car magazine then and framed it; it’s been hanging on the wall in my office ever since, and I still read it often. The article may old, but the words are as true today as when they were written. I hope you enjoy it. PURE B.S! “A Crash Course in Track Manners” By BS Levy (reprinted with permission from the King of the Ride Mooches hisself) Racing, as it is practiced in the SVRA, is quite a bit different than any other kind of racing. For this we should all be thankful, because vintage racing encompasses several unique conditions. First, there is the beauty and value of these cars. And the laws of physics being what they are, two solid objects still have a tough time occupying the same piece of track, especially if they happen to be a NART Ferarri Daytona and a Corvette Split-Window Coupe. The inescapable fact is that you can’t dial up JC Whitney & Co. and have them pluck new bits & pieces out of the parts bin and ship Next Day Air. Noooo. These lovely old hulks need to be treated with a little respect.   Which does not mean that vintage drivers are supposed to go puttering around on the idle jet, sooting up the plugs & waving to fans. These cars were bred and built to race, and to bring them out to a racing circuit and not put your foot in it is almost as disrespectful as flinging them into the guardrails. The whole idea is to enjoy the cars, to get the oil hot and blood pumping for car and driver alike.   Which brings us to special condition number two: No-where else in racing is there such a wide variety of talent, skill, and experience (or lack thereof) as in Vintage Racing. At one end of the spectrum you’ve got people like Bertil Roos and Brian Redman who make their living with steering wheel & shifter. Then there are many people like Patsy Bolin & Ed Henning and so many, many more who are excellent, excellent drivers, the kind you can go door-to-door against with the confidence that they will respect your piece of track and your piece of mind. At the next level down are the journeymen drivers, the majority of whom have the wisdom to place the value of their cars above the value of a tin cup and who, moreover, have a realistic view of their own limits. At the far edge of the spectrum, there are the drivers “on the edge.” They may be rookies testing the waters for the first time or two, or they may be experienced drivers who suddenly find themselves strapped into a car that is too much for them, or they may be simply good drivers who, in the heat of competition, fall victim to “the red mist” and venture beyond their limits.    The key here, as has been stated in every SVRA drivers meeting that I have attended, is to go out and have fun. Drive hard, but drive well, and don’t prang any of that wonderful equipment. To this end, the SVRA “Crash-Out” rule is both fair & responsible. The idea that “winning isn’t all that important” makes great policy & even better conversation, but the fact is, when you buckle up, flip your visor down, and fire up the horsepower, the adrenaline starts pouring out both ears and it’s kind of difficult to maintain that lovely detachment. Which brings us to the heart of the matter.   That little island inside your helmet (…as the field thunders around on the pace lap, weaving back & forth to heat up the tires, checking your belts & gauges, sneaking a look at the guy next to you on the grid…), that place is the most private, solitary place in the universe. Racing is a supremely individual sport, and all the gladhandling chatter in the paddock and pitlane disappear like a vapor when you are inside the beast. Alone.    And yet, here in the hollow center of this inner sanctum of isolation, you are a part of a blood-serious secret society, your fate intertwined with every other driver on the track. This is the cornerstone of the camaraderie that is racing. I will try to beat you, and you will try to beat me, but we will take care of each other, so we may do this again another day. It’s not something you consciously think about, but it is there, always. And it should be.    Which brings us, in a round-about way, to the point: Given that the performance envelope for cars in SVRA racing varies greatly, and given that the variety of driver ability and experience varies even more, a driver (especially a good one) must make allowances for ”the idiot factor” when the green is out. This is not to say that inexperienced drivers are idiots, but they are not likely to do what the experienced driver would do in the same situation. If a driver is out there for the first time with his guts in a knot and a death-grip on the steering wheel and his eyes the size of buzzard eggs, he is somewhat past the limits of well-considered thought. In fact, he is over his head, and should probably ease off, point the pursuing cars past, try to fall in line on an empty piece of pavement and get into the program of learning how to race. But, as we observed, you really don’t know what this fellow is likely to do (which figures, as he doesn’t know either) but you can be pretty sure that he is busy and probably not in touch with his mirrors.   And, the thing of it is, until you have a mental “book” on every car and every driver (which may be impossible in SVRA racing), you don’t know which car/driver combination may fall into the “idiot” category. This means that you have to treat every car with a certain, extra care, particularly on those first few laps when the field is bunched and the drivers are really keyed up. If an accident occurs because the rookie driver does the unexpected, the experienced driver who gets involved is equally to blame. He didn’t consider “the idiot factor.”   There is difference, in racing and in life in general, between “fault” and “responsibility.” If a rookie driver doesn’t see you making your move to pass and introduces you to the guard rail, it may well have been his fault, but it was your responsibility If you fail to realize that 8/10ths for you may well be 11/10ths for some one else, you are not practicing vintage racing. You are practicing Blood Racing. There is nothing wrong with that kind of serious competition, but there are many other places to practice that manifestation of the sport. Try the Barber or Russell series or Sports Renault or buy a Formula Ford and order up a big slice of humble pie.    Vintage racing is something unique. It includes the competitive spirit , but it should not be slave to it. Many of these cars were driven the greats in their heyday: Fangio and Moss and Hill and Shelb and all the rest. We may never attain their skill, but perhaps we can follow the example of their judgment. The most important thing is to respect the limits of the car, of self, of track, and of fellow racers.                                 BS Levy's Home Page
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