Racin' Small

05/23/96

I knew my car was headed for the wall the second it happened. It was a rookie mistake, a momentary lapse that I might've gotten away with anyplace but on a racetrack. Just as a faster car was going by mine at the end of the main straight, I turned into the sweeper, a few inches too soon. Inches. It was just that close. Bang! He clipped me going by, just hard enough to change my Mini Cooper's course. As the wall loomed, I barely had time to utter the racer's prayer, "Oh, sh*t!," before the Cooper slammed against the wall then careened back onto the track.

Instantly, two Turn Marshals jumped over the wall and rushed to my car. The steering was jammed, but everything else seemed all right. It was just the front tires wedged against the bodywork and with a little prying, they sent me off again. Hey, it was okay! The car seemed to run great and I was quickly up to speed. Then darned if I didn't do it again, this time on my own. Just steered that sucker right into the wall. Remarkably, it just bounced right off and I managed to finish the race. After a couple more "offs," that is.

Fortunately, I wasn't driving my 29-year old Mini Cooper. No, this was my ignominious first attempt at racing an R/C (Radio Control) car. My son Chris, a veteran R/C racer, just smiled and shook his head. Okay, so I wasn't brilliant, but it was, I had to admit, a heck of a lot of fun.

The occasion of my disastrous R/C racing debut was a recent special event at L.A.'s prestigious Petersen Automotive Museum. Called the Petersen-Hobby Shack Parking Lot Race, it came out of discussions about a year ago between then-Museum Director Dick Messer and R/C car racing entrepreneur and goodwill ambassador Dan Moynihan. When the 10-store and national mail order company Hobby Shack came on board, things fell into place. The idea was to stage an event that would expose a new audience, R/C racers and their friends, to one of the most unique automobile and motor racing displays in the country, and at the same time, offer museum patrons and the general public the opportunity to discover and participate in the family sport of R/C car racing. From what we saw, it was a rousing success.

"There were over 180 cars competing," Hobby Shack's Mike Greenshields told me afterwards, "Pretty close to the largest field we've ever had." He should know. Hobby Shack regularly puts on parking lot races all over Southern California, recently even staging one for Navy personnel on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Boxer, in Long Beach. The "blue crew," employees in blue-colored Hobby Shack shirts, travel to a location, set up a track, timing equipment, registration, tech inspection, and support booths, conduct a full program of races, along with a miniature concours for the best looking show and racecars, and pack everything up in one day. It's sort of like a traveling circus.

When we arrived in the Mini, the real one, at 8:00am, the "blue crew" already had two tracks set up on the third level of the Petersen's parking lot, one for competitors and another smaller "try-me" track, where guests were invited to try out R/C cars supplied by the organizers. I, of course, ignored this "amateur's" track like a bike with training wheels and affected my best racer's swagger over to the REAL track to sign in.

Chris and I were among 120 enthusiasts competing, at $7.00 per car, in 22 different classes. As in full-size racing, we could advance to our main events through heat races. I was to run the "Rookie Stock" class with a brand new 1/10th-scale Mini Cooper made by Tamiya. We decided that Chris, being experienced, should sort the car out before I went out for the first time. Trouble was, that when it was time for me to go, the battery was flat - a charging mistake on our part. "No sweat," said I, confidently, "I'll just wing it in the first heat." Had I been more perceptive, I might have interpreted the almost-perpetual smile on Dan Moynihan's face in a different way this particular time.

It seemed simple enough. The steering was a small wheel on the side of the pistol-grip controller. Turn it right, the car goes right, left, the car goes left. The throttle was the "trigger." I'd grip the controller with my left hand and twist it sideways so that the wheel was up for my right. Hey, piece o' cake, right? Wrong. Until you get used to it, working throttle and steering together is like patting your head and rubbing circles on your stomach.

I've started races before without a clue about the track or the car, so I just thought I'd do what I'd done then, just follow the pack around until I scoped things out. It worked great until we got to the first turn. I followed the pack into the turn, backed off just a hair on the throttle trigger - and promptly spun. Lesson number-one: when you're driving a front-drive car like the Mini with a wheelbase of 8 1/4 inches, trailing- throttle oversteer is inevitable, immediate, and disastrous. I confirmed this revelation about four feet farther into the same corner, once again spinning. My clever solution? I determined to just take the throttle out of the picture. I'd leave it full- on, let my little front-driver "push," and deal with it through steering and line adjustments.

Well, it worked like a charm - until I got the Mini through the following turn. Now it was headed back toward me and for the first time, not going the same direction I was looking. From my point of view, to make it go left, I had to steer right. Then, of course, every time the course changed directions again, you had to switch back to the other steering orientation. Back and forth, back and forth. Impossible. Soon, I got so confused and disoriented, I never knew what direction I was going in, or which way the car would turn when I steered it - even on the straightaways. You know how racers zig-zag on the warm-up laps to heat up their tires? Well, speed that image up and that was me. But, what the heck, at least, I finished.

"Hey, you made the main!" said Chris of my 4th-place. His father's pride was diminished only slightly by the fact that the other three cars in the race were miles ahead. After all, it WAS my first time.

Everyone who raced was issued a free one-day pass to the museum. The fact that Chris and I are Petersen regulars didn't stop us from taking advantage, as the museum is constantly adding or changing displays. This past month, for instance, front- engine, Offenhauser-powered Indy roadsters from the '50s and early '60s, have been featured, most of which, incidentally, were One of the highpoints at the Petersen-Hobby Shack event was the opportunity to watch the "pros," experienced fully-sponsored racers, go at it, in this case, with four-wheel drive German DTM series-bodied cars. Their precision and control was absolutely amazing, just like great drivers in full-size cars. It's easy to see why many automobile racers, among them, 1995 USAC Midget, Sprint, and Champ car champion, and now, IRL superstar, Tony Stewart, are rabid R/C enthusiasts.

On our way out, Tamiya Sales Manager Kathleen Winnie, told us of a party given by RACER magazine a couple of years ago at which an R/C track was set up for all the guests, including a number of Indy car drivers. Emerson Fittipaldi and Paul Tracy were there from the Penske team. The fastest of all? "Retired" Rick Mears, smooth as ever. Flat dusted everybody. "You know what they say," smiled Kathleen, "the cream rises to the top." In view of my dismal performance, I could only force a grin and nod affirmatively. Oh, well, maybe I'm the exception that proves the rule.