CHIMNEY ROCK MEMORIES

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Spectator… and now a Hillclimber

My story of Chimney Rock begins in the late 60’s with my Mom taking me to watch the race, way to young to fully understand all of what was happening, but I remember wanting to be able to drive like that! I ordered the Cobra from Ford with the plan to race it at chimney rock. However life seemed to get in the way, my daughter was born on hill-climb weekend.

So I was doing the Momma thing with her for most of the 70 and 80’s. I finally
went to the last one with Ray and secretly said goodbye to the dream of ever running a
hill-climb. I guess my favorite moment has to be finally getting to meet the legends I
had looked up to as a child. Now, I am getting the chance to race on the same hills with them and it is unbelievable. All of those guys are truly what hill climb racing is all about.Thanks
for the memories. – Sheila Cockrell ESP #66

                   

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Back in the early nineteen eighties, I decided to try “The Rock”, (Chimney Rock was called that long before Rockingham Speedway was built) having tried all the “Flat” SCCA sanctioned race courses in the South East, it was time for some excitement. Previously I had been running Street Radials on Road courses since they were the only tires available other than Racing Slicks, which were not legal for my class. B. F. Goodrich had just developed a new DOT legal, soft compound competition tire that promised to be the traction fix I desperately needed. Working through my BFG tire distributor and the BFG marketing representative, I was able obtain a promise from the company to supply a set of the new Comp R1s in time for the upcoming CRHC. In anticipation of the arrival of my new tires, I had some full treaded street radials (that had previously been run at Roebling Road), dismounted from my favorite rims. As the Murphy’s Racer Law would have it, my new Comp tires failed to arrive when needed. Having run out of time, I was forced to take the recently dismounted tires back to the dealer for remounting. Due to a tight schedule, I wasn’t able to pick up the wheels until after work that evening on my way to Chimney Rock.
Arriving after dark at the paddock area and finding that the only available space consisted of a muddy, sloped area, well away from any paved roadway or light, drove home the wisdom of arriving early. Being motivated by the prospect of running the famous Hill Climb in the morning, I soldiered on, changed my wheels to the “Race Rubber” and did whatever was possible to make sure there were no mechanical issues needing attention. Race Day! I’m on the starting line ready to take the wave from the starter. I had driven slowly up the course early that morning to see what I was going to attempt and had decided it was going to take a few more trips to remember the turns.
The signal to go is given and I nail it. The trees line the side of the road and meet overhead to give the impression of driving in a green tunnel. Exiting the darkness of the shade, the full light of day glares on the windshield and the spectators lining the meadow on my left are a passing blur on the approach to a high-speed right hand turn. I’m momentarily distracted by the number of spectators standing or sitting in folding chairs on the dirt bank a few feet above the road waving beverage cans and making so much noise I can hear it above the sounds of the Chevy V8.
As I down shift and get on the brakes while starting a turn to the right, I realized something was big time wrong. The tires had suddenly lost grip and I was in a four-wheel slide headed toward the spectators located on the outside of the curve. Not knowing the cause of the slide, I reacted with my first in a short list of options and released the brakes, turned into the slide and accelerated. What a relief! It appears that I’ve made the right move when the rear tires bite enough to launch the car away from the crowd and into the opposite direction. Then I realize that I’ve traded one problem for another. The car is now in a slide to the right and all I can see out of my passenger door window is a very large tree that seems to be in the middle of the road and is rapidly approaching. Just at the last moment, the right rear wheel impacts a large stone that covers a drain pipe on the roadside and straightens the car allowing enough control to drive around the tree and continue on course.
By now, I’ve convinced myself that an earlier fluid spill had not been noticed and cleaned up, and was the source of my adventure, therefore the remainder of the course was probably okay. Wrong! Having made uneventful progress to the sweeping left hand turn known for the house that it arcs around, I decided it was time to get going and as I made my left turn apex, I did. Right into a ditch and the Ivey covered dirt bank. Coming out of the turn and accelerating was all it took to once again lose all grip and allow the car to slide off the turn. Not wanting to destroy the right side body panels by slamming into the embankment, I got back into the gas and spun the rear tires enough to push the car forward as it dropped into the ditch. I was lucky, only the corner of the rear bumper made contact with banking and the car was moving forward fast enough to pull itself out of the ditch and continue on. I was only too happy to cross the final turn to the finish line and proceed to the parking area to catch my breath. While driving up the remainder of the mountain to the parking area people were turning and pointing at my car, while pondering this I was surprised to hear my name and car number called out by the announcer and assumed he was making comment about the sloppy run I’d just made up the hill. After I shut off the engine and was getting unbuckled from my belts, a worker came over and congratulated me on being the fastest car up the hill for the day. While letting that sink in, I walked around the car to see what the damage was, as I reached the right rear corner, I saw why people had been pointing. The end of the bumper had dug into the Ivey covered dirt bank and had captured a thick twenty-foot streamer of Ivey and was dragging it like a tail. As I started to remove this trophy the announcer came back on the PA to declare the second car up the Hill that day to be the new “King of the Hill”.
Every story has a Moral; as does this one: NEVER assume that a tire technician is going to follow your instructions. ALL WAYS check to make sure that they do not mount your tires outside in!                                                                                                                           Brian Gause – BSP#1

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