There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.-Ernest Hemingway
The first day on the track for Project 911S was not spectacular. Anti-spectacular would be more accurate. Actually, it sucked. Mind you, the poor performance had nothing to do with the car, its preparation or its equipment. It had everything to do with the driver.
In my own defense, the day was cold, windy and interrupted by an occasional bout of rain that thwarted any serious sprints around the high-desert racing circuit of Willow Springs International Raceway in Rosamond, Calif. Yet, while I would like to blame the weather for the miserable showing, I cannot. The trouble was inside my helmet.
In theory, an early lightweight 911 equipped with the competition components of this project car, along with its potent 2.7-liter mechanically injected motor and aggressive racing rubber, should have easily circumnavigated Willow Springs in about a minute and a half. Similar cars have done so repeatedly with a few slipping below the 90-sec. barrier. I could not, however, crack the 1:37 blockade.
Make no mistake, road racing is incredibly demanding, not only on the equipment but on the competitor as well. Unlike most sports, there are no huddles in which to catch your breath, no time outs, no seventh-inning stretch. The contest is not over in 3 seconds or at the end of a quarter mile. Nor is the track a smooth oval where the greatest demands on the driver is to keep his right foot extended and turn left.
Driving a GT-class race car, even in practice, requires total concentration 100% of the time. You have to be committed to the moment, as the car is often at its limits inches from others which are moving with the same velocity along a narrow, twisty roadway specifically designed to screw you.
Thus my dilemma. The car was prepared. I was not. After spending 2 1/2 years building the 911S racer, I was somewhat hesitant to probe its boundaries. Let me rephrase that: I was terrified to test its limits for the simple reason of not yet knowing exactly where those limitations lurk.
There was also the fact that the photographs of the S in its dashing livery had not been taken nor had I written the 20th installment. The thought of lobbing the car into a cement safety wall or missing a shift and churning the valve stems into spaghetti prompted my automatic gag reflex.
Prior to running the car on what is affectionately known as Willow Spring's "Big Track," I did have the chance to shake the S down at the facility's smaller road course, the Streets of Willow Springs. Speeds at the Streets rarely top 100 mph, and the spillways are broad with nary an obstacle in sight. Here, I was far more comfortable driving the project car closer to the edge.
Participating in one of the short-track events held by the local Porsche Owners Club, the car managed to generate times only a few ticks off the fastest laps of the day and kept the class leader within striking distance.