I ran my first autocross in 1977. Back then, a 10-second zero-to-60 run was pretty quick. Disco was so cool. There was no AIDS pandemic. No cell phones. No personal computers. Health insurance was 50 bucks a month. You could still buy an “old” VW Beetle new. My first road race was in 1985. I have run well over 500 races, many 24 hours long, and I’m gaining on 100 pro wins.
My point to this egotism? I’m a lousy instructor.
I can’t remember what it was like when I knew everything—meaning back when I was learning how to race a car. That was so long ago that now I take most of my driving knowledge and race-day routine for granted. I don’t really think about the steps involved, they just happen.
That is, until I ride with someone else. I’m a lousy passenger, too. Each variation from my norm instantly pegs my internal scream meter. “Arrrgh, how could you do that?! Geez! It is so obvious!”
As a gentleman, I keep these thoughts inside—about half the time—but I’ll share some of them with you. Here are eight strategies I now take for granted.
8: Drink Up
I start drinking the night before a race and stop an hour before the green flag. And I drink water only. No caffeine, no sugar.
Caffeine is a diuretic: It drains fluids from the system. Coffee and Coke are dehydrators. Oh, and refined sugar quickly delivers energy—too quickly, though, as it’s followed by a blast from our body’s insulin pumps. The result: a low-blood-sugar sleepyhead just as the pace lap rolls out.
Also, use the restroom before strapping in. In World Challenge, over an hour separates the march to the grid from the standing start. Last-minute swilling will make you need to pee like a draft horse 5 minutes after buckling up—mighty unpleasant, and if there’s a crash a burst bladder is a toxic and real concern.
7: Strap In
Every time I’m ready to take a car on track, I strap myself down as well as my equipment can manage: tight belts, good seat, sturdy dead pedal. Early on, I didn’t realize the importance of this one in terms of control, and perhaps even more in terms of safety.
Allowing race seats in Showroom Stock was a great move, and it’s also a good idea for your track car. To feel what the car is doing, you must be firmly strapped to it. You can’t just hold onto the steering wheel for dear life.
If the seat and belts are squishy and vague, I put some weight on the dead pedal and press my knees into the door panel and center console. Once I’m tied to the car, I can drive with just a light touch on the wheel.
6: Easy Back On
If I drop a wheel off course, I take my time and ease it back onto the pavement. If you’re not careful, the edge of the track will grab the tire and try to spin you to the inside. This is a very common street crash, too, and another reason to run your teen through a real driving course like the B.R.A.K.E.S. program (putonthebrakes.com).
I had a firsthand experience with this phenomenon back in 1985 during a VW Cup race at Lime Rock. I came whistling out of the Downhill, and the left-rear tire fell off the pavement. I knew I was close to the edge, and I was fighting her a bit trying to stay on.
Quick as a wink, the car snapped sideways. I shot into that wide, grassy area, disappearing from the sight of my stalwart crew guy waiting on pit lane. All that runoff room gave me the chance to save it and return into his view. I was down a couple of positions but still in the game.
That area is now the pre-grid, and the wall is much closer to the track. I shudder to think what would happen if I tried that maneuver today. It would’ve been the end of my VW Golf as well as my racing career.
Life is a game of inches and circumstance. These days, I give it up sooner if I know I’m close. Ease it off the road, ease it back on.
Here’s another important lesson: When in doubt, both feet out. Thank you, Skip Barber, for teaching me that one.
When I’m in trouble and sliding too much—fast hands working to save a potential spin—I stay away from acceleration. I go even-steven on everything involving the feet. Power only makes you crash faster.
You claim that you power out of trouble all the time? Well, guess what: You haven’t been in that much trouble, and you probably saved yourself with your hands. Or maybe the racing gods reached in and saved you, and you are just taking the credit. They will get you for that disrespect. Don’t ask me how I know.
By the way, this technique does not always apply to front-drivers. Power can and will save you there, but you’ve still got to get your hands right—or you’ll power into that wall even harder, just like the guy in a rear-driver. Four-wheel-drivers can go either way.
There’s a corollary to this one: If I spin, both feet in. Brake and clutch, automatically.
5: Slow Hands
Always use slow hands on the wheel. Unless the car pushes like a mother, I don’t throw it around. I make-ah love to de cahrrr. Slow hands for speed, fast hands only for catching slides. Slow hands when all’s well, fast hands when I’m in trouble.
Once in a while, however, my slow hands get me in trouble. This happened at Long Beach this year: I never dreamed that my four-wheel-drive K-Pax Volvo would snap loose under power—even in a first-gear hairpin. By the time I felt it happening, it was too late for those smooth inputs. Hello, wall. Goodbye, qualifying.
4: Brake Hard
Get on the brakes hard. I move from full acceleration to full braking as quickly as possible, especially in a car with some aero.
The faster you’re going, the harder and faster that initial squeeze of the pedal should be. I picked this up in autocross, too, back in the dark ages. There’s no time for pussyfooting around on a 40-second run—or on any fast lap, in fact.
Release the brakes slowly. I definitely do not think consciously about this anymore, but man, is it important. I see this as a very common issue holding back mid-level drivers.
Keeping your foot on the brakes keeps it off the gas, which is usually a good thing early in a corner—you’ll find out why in Tip 1. The tighter the turn, the more important this is. Main reason? Weight management. Braking transfers weight forward—onto the wheels that are directing you into that corner. Hard on the brakes, easy off.
3: Ease the Throttle
Squeeze the gas oh so gently. Invisibly. After taking forever to release the brakes, move lightly to the gas—like a butterfly landing on a leaf—and slowly roll it on.
Why? Because I know my tires can’t put a lot of effort into two things at once, and any time I’m coming off the brakes and going to gas, I’m right at the cornering limit.
Can you see how Tips 4 and 3 go together? That’s finesse: slowly off the brake and lightly on the gas. I aim to make that move undetectable. The tire must not feel the transition. Smoooooth.
That means easing into the power as I ease out of the steering. Slow hands, slow feet, assuming my car is handling correctly.
Poor-handling cars must be chased—wrestled, even. They need fast hands and big, quick inputs, which means driving like a bull-ridin’ rodeo cowboy. Some of you guys drive like that all the time. I’ve seen you. Entertaining to watch, good TV material, but easy to beat and not the best long-term plan.
2: Proper Cornering Speed
The more powerful a car is, the slower it must be in the corner. This is why your Miata is still so much fun, even though it needs the entire straight at Road Atlanta to achieve a mere 110 mph.
For comparison, my 500-plus-horsepower K-Pax Volvo gets there by the time it reaches the peak of that little hill on the same straight. But, I must flat stop for the corners. I don’t think about it, I just park it.
It feels slow, but it lowers the lap times. It’s way easier than the Miata, and there’s lower risk—no hairball drifts skimming the curbs.
Have you noticed how the Miata seems so much more desperate than your M3? That’s because max apex speed is the Miata’s utter lifeblood. It lives or dies on that ragged-edge apex.
A World Challenge GT car is much calmer in the turn. No, really. All that acceleration demands a straighter exit. When we pour all that torque to the tires, the corner ends. Power straightens the line and that’s it. God made it that way.
The flip side is that the fastest turns become straights in a Miata. At Road Atlanta, my home track, that’s the Esses and Turn 12, and I do miss that. Drop into those Esses after a short shift to fifth in your M3, and you’ll find a ragged-edge drift not unlike the Miata low in third through Turn 7.
Powerful cars in fast corners are driven just like low-output cars in slow corners. This is why autocross is so valid as a learning tool. It teaches patience on the throttle.
1: Patience, Patience
So, what’s the number-one driving habit that I take for granted? Patience on the throttle.
Yep, waiting. Just sittin’ there letting the car get turned. The slower the corner, the longer I wait. So simple, yet so hard to do.
As driving guru Terry Earwood says, “If the car’s not going where you want, why would you want to go there faster?” This is also my number-one speed secret, by the way.
Your car is like a gun, and the throttle is the trigger. Pull the trigger only when you know you are pointed at the target. Use the horsepower for leaving the corner, not entering it. If the car is nervous when you turn in—a little tail-happy—then, okay, use some early power to stabilize it, but save acceleration for the apex. Then pit and adjust the car if it’s too loose on entry.
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