Sebring International Raceway is the birthplace of American endurance racing. It is North America's oldest permanent road racing facility, established in 1950. Lost in the orange groves and cattle ranches of Central Florida, Sebring International Raceway has hosted the legendary 12-hour endurance classic since 1952. The 3.74-mile racing circuit is on what was originally Hendricks Field, a WWII US Army Air Force base. The road surface of Sebring's front straight is the original concrete poured in 1941 for the military base.
07May21; Fri. We reach the Sebring Diner just at sunrise and have breakfast there, and it is excellent as usual. I buy three Sebring Diner souvenir coffee cups, for driver's Jamie & David, and one for myself. Shutterbug Jim (team photographer) doesn't drink coffee.
Seven miles down the road at the track, we fill out Sebring's COVID-19 wavier and LeMons registration gate sign-ins, and in the early morning sun and flanking palm trees, drive to the long main building and Pit 38 on the access road. We're early. Most of the pits are empty.
Juan Manuel Fangio, El Maestro, from the Argentine. He dominated Formula One racing, winning the World Drivers' Championship five times. and took 1st overall here in 1957 for Maserati.
It feels really good to be back at Sebring. This old airport track is flat as a table top, and right beside the current civilian airport. History is physical here. It is sacred ground for the spirits of drivers such as Fangio, Moss, Behra, Ken Miles, Shelby, Dan Gurney, and for makers Porsche, Jaguar, Ferrari, Alfa Romeo, Maserati, and Aston Martin, just to name a few.
Herbert Brundage took 11th overall here in 1952, at the first 12-hour, with an 1100cc VW Special. Brundage Motors of Miami was to become Brumos of Jacksonville, Porsche factory surrogate in the US, my employer and entry into the professional sports car racing world.
NSF (friendly antagonists) to RetroRacing's Johan is soon pitted beside us, running a red Chrysler Sebring convertible. We set up our pit with tires, spare parts, and tools.
A nice surprise is Team JB Bugs, (Paul Ripa out of West Palm) has his beautifully prepared number 54 Super Beetle there, with big Webers and a stroked engine. That gives us a competitive apples-to-apples reference.
The Blitzwagen fails tech. Our driver's harness is too old. We do have a new set on hand, and Jamie swaps out the belts quickly. The sky is blue, the colorful pennants wave, and as more people arrive, our old school air-cooled Blitzwagen draws strolling passerbys, with quotes such as "This Bug is serious!" or "Really really cool, good luck."
I sit aside in my folding chair. LeMons cars and teams are not professionals. They are more like the guys who raced here back in the day. Hot shoe drivers and volunteer mechanics, at a time when romanticism exceeded organization.
Drivers Johan, Dr. Steve, and Justin drift in, booked into the Seven, the swank on-track hotel. Very fancy indeed. Everybody works to organize the pit, layout the tools, and make sense of Jamie's packing reasoning.
David, Jamie, and myself eat sunset dinner at the hotel, bouncing there on the golf kart. David, Jamie, and Jim the photographer and observer retire to the tow trucks and trailers camp, ours being air conditioned with a generator.
I sleep outside that night on my cot in the open pit beside the Blitzwagen, on a folding cot.
08May21; Sat. Race Day #1.
I am laying awake at dawn, my favorite time of a race day. The slanting sunrays dissolve the shadows, prisming through windshields, glinting off rear view mirrors. Engines are still. There is no tool box clatter. I hear a few birds calling, then muted voices as crews wake up, and footsteps rasping sand on the sidewalk concrete that leads to the rest rooms and concession stand.
Jamie shows up with hot coffee, and I sip it as I, like all the others, gradually make the mental shift from rest to blood sport competition. Soon we will be racing among the palm trees, warehouses, chain link fences, and parked aircraft.
We are Class-C. 59 cars are listed to start. This is a low LeMons entry field. COVID-19 is obviously part of the reason, but LeMons itself is not well represented in south Florida. In fact, LeMons has only just once before rented Sebring (2014), and drew just 30 to 40 cars. LeMons took over the smaller tracks in the southeast, and left the big ones (Daytona, Sebring) to the now defunct Chump Car series.
The weather is hot and clear. We decide to put Jamie out first, to test the new computer-timed catch can to dry sump tank electric pump oil return system, watch the oil temps, and check out the handling. TP 24-26. 34mm venturis, 160 main jets on the Solexes.
The Blitzwagen fires into life when prompted, the stinger baffle only just taking the edge off the exhaust blast. Jamie steers out to the too-long, slow circuitous path it takes to loop around the pit building and enter the track. Loudspeakers are vibrating out something incomprehensible.
The great (Sir) Stirling Moss smiles at us from a time afar. He would be knighted for his impact on motorsports. In a D-Type he was invincible.
The cars are lapping, confirming transponder pings. Our X2 transponder is finally working, having been replaced once, and now is holding a charge and registering.
Yep, that's Ken Miles. He won Daytona, Sebring, and LeMans all in 1966, in Ford GT's. A rules technicality took away his overall first at LeMans, but give credit where credit is due. He really won. Screw the technicalities.
The green flag waves from the tower at 1000 Hrs. Jamie is very disciplined. Our standing order is to go long, not fast. He cruises. We have many hours ahead of us.
The transponder soon shows Jamie's 3:13 laps. 3:00 would be fast. But fate intervenes, just to keep us from getting too cocky. Our trick engine startup pre-oiler reservoir comes loose and is swinging on its hose under the left rear fender. The preoiler makes sure the big dual 96-plate oil coolers under the rear wing deck are filled so we get quick oil pressure right away on ignition. Oil is hitting the exhaust and making smoke. Jamie gets black flagged at 1100hrs.
The preoiler is separate from the oil catch tank overflow system. In the overflow system, a computer timer chip turns on a pump that periodically empties the 1-gallon catch tank back to the dry sump. So far that's working. We just remove the preoiler reservoir. It had somehow vibrated loose from its clamp strap.
Jamie turns a 3:10 before he is replaced by Dr. Steve at 1130 hrs, and since Jamie was the guy who mounted the preoiler reservoir, has to take some predictable ribbing, such as "You should have used brand new duct tape!"
Dr. Steve laps smoothly. He has ice water in his veins and tequila in his flask.
Steve had reentered the field as 9th in class, and in his stint, turns a 3:14 lap, going long as opposed to fast. We are able to read everybody else's times on our smart phone app, and notice some very fast lap times across all classes. To fill the field, LeMons's has allowed in some ordinarily ineligible cars and a bunch of them are in C. We're usually leading C by the second hour. The Porsches, BMW's, and six-cylinder Nissans are common.
Jamie, resting now, reports just 210° F. oil temp at racing speed, even though we are at ambient 80°F and climbing. The twin 96-plate coolers are working. We have them mounted flat in the wing deck, ducted with an air scoop each, and we have the best oil temps ever.
1300 Hrs Saturday
Stirling Moss, Maserati 300 ghost rider in the sky, taking second behind Fangio in 1957, wafts above a Blitzwagen refuel. Justin is adjusting Dr. Steve's neck brace.
Steve brings the Blitzwagen in for refueling. He and Jamie are light-footed and barely use 5-gallons of street premium an hour. David takes the Blitzwagen out at 1300 hrs. Steve is happy. Oil temp is up to 220° F as the ambient climbs into the low 90's. "Brakes are good, handling is good, oil pressure steady at 30psi no matter what," Steve says. "The car is perfect." But Steve is sweating heavily. There is no ducted ventilation in the car. Open windows, but no ducting. Back in the day, Sterling Moss and the others raced in polo shirts and ignored seat belts.
Many drivers consider Sebring the most difficult of all races -- including LeMans -- because of the track itself. Sebring is hard on brakes, tires, drivers, and suspensions.
1305 Hrs. Saturday.
David had just started his stint, when he heard the Blitzwagen's engine go bang, and felt it lock up for an instant. He clutched, and steered off the track. The engine would not restart, loudly misfiring. So what would Juan Fangio do in a case like this? The same as David. Wait for the tow truck.
1320 Hrs. Saturday.
David is towed in by strap. Just 20 minutes on track. Justin and Jamie quickly jack up the Blitzwagen, rotating the engine with a big wrench on the fan belt pulley. Something is broken. Off come the valve covers. Both EMPI chromoly pushrods on cylinder #2 are mushroomed and bent.
"OK! Engine swap, now!" I say. Jamie has prepared for this. Both our 2.2 litre engines are identically wired and plumbed for hot swaps. The only difference is the backup engine has a W140 full race cam as opposed to the W125 hot street cam engine we're dropping, and no stinger baffle.
David Scott, Johan (driving suit), and Jamie do their engine change expressions. You have to hold your mouth just right.
1415 Hrs. Saturday.
Finally, the W140 cam engine is slid in and the aft crash cage reinstalled. Fuel and oil lines are reconnected, all are AN fittings. We've lost a minimum of the Lucas 10w40 Classic Hot Rod oil we've adopted as standard.
Now it's a wrench race. We only hit one snag. The new 36hp fan housing on the W140 cam engine was never drilled for a throttle cable, and none of us had noticed it!
David corrects the problem with a sharp Phillips head screw driver and a hammer, transplanting the throttle cable guide tube from the busted W125 cam engine.
My first concern is the Solex (Kadron) carbs, again identical between engines, on the W140 cam engine havn't run for a few months and might have dirty idle or main jets.
1530 Hrs. Saturday.
David is back on track. The front straight is full of howling cars flying by in groups, then a breath, and one lone contender will buzz by. We hear David's engine as he laps, breaking up at 4500-5000 RPM as he upshifts.
Each year's 12-Hr winner gets a pennent sign. Porsche has the most.
1540 Hrs. Saturday.
David drives back to the pit. We see the throttle is sticking. It's a quick hammer fix. We're already lost too much time in the engine swap. Jamie is anxious. He wants to swap carbs from the W125 cam engine. Many things are running through my head. We can lose the race on a bad call. I have to rule against the swap. I know the Solexes well, having written the only manual there has been on them to date.
"The carbs are dirty," I say. The plugs are probably dirty too. Get out there and rev it!" I don't really know this for sure, but its likely, and I have to wean the crew from wanting to stop and tinker until everything is just right. We do not have the time.
David nods and roars back out. He's pushing it now, drifting a few turns, hard braking, revving to 6000. We have big aluminum dual-piston Wilwood calipers and enduro pads up front and single-piston cast iron ATE-style rear calipers with R4 Porterfield carbon kevlar pads in the rear, all working on Wilwood 570° F. racing fluid.
Oil temp and pressure have been holding steady. Handling has been excellent. The Blitzwagen's suspension really likes our soft compound Nitto Neo 205/50/R15's.
The carbs have improved, but not enough. There is still some breakup on acceleration at the 5000 RPM level. But no time to pit and retune. Today's race ends at 6:00 PM (1800 hrs), and we have to make laps.
Suddenly David becomes aware of oil droplets blowing around inside the cabin. There is an oil mist in the air, surfaces are dripping. Ordinarily, this would mean pit, but David is under the "Stand On It" imperative and he keeps racing and sweating.
I wonder how Fangio, the Master, withstood the heat here in 1957, when he and Behra won 1st overall in a Maserati.
1700 Hrs. Saturday.
Refueled, Johan zooms away from the pit. David staggers out of pit road to a folding chair. His helmet is actually glistening with oil dew. During the refuel, Jamie saw what was wrong. The dry sump tank vent (a paper air filter cap) had been allowing over-pressure from inside the tank to "burp" out.
David is gasping for breath. The afternoon heat (mid 90° F. now), lack of cabin ventilation, and breathing oil vapor for an hour has taken its toll. We presume the catch tank oil had been dumped back into the dry sump oil tank by the digital timer pump at the wrong moment, just as David had the Blitzwagen screaming, and it caused the burp.
1800 Hrs. Saturday.
Johan takes the evening's checkered flag. We have made it through the day, we are tired, hungry, and grateful. David, Jamie, Jim, and I bounce back across the side roads on the golf cart to the Seven hotel. Johan and Dr Steve stay behind to party in the pits. We are underdressed and feeling too race-track gritty for the Seven on Saturday night but this is a on-track hotel. Dinner conversation is about adjustments, repairs, plans.
On thing we'd noticed today was JB Bugs shiny blue Super Beetle returning to the pits too frequently and staying in the pits too long. They seem to be having fuel delivery problems.
We take pizza back to Johan. He has given Jason (a friend with another team), a full-sized plush donkey suit with NSF . The donkey is highly inebriated, fast, and cartwheel acrobatic. It creeps Jim Allen out.
Later Saturday night, edging midnight, David and Jamie work on the Blitzwagen. They install new Wilwood enduro front pads, fix a minor leak in the brake bias adjuster, and rejet the Solexes to 170 mains. I stand in for David when he slumps from exhaustion, bleeding brakes for Jamie as he pumps.
We have all day tomorrow to go. Anything can happen.
09May21; Sun. Race Day #2.
The cars deploy to the track. The weather is hot and clear. Thin, high, rapidly moving clouds. No rain, and God can it rain at Sebring.
0900 Hrs. Sunday. Green flag waves vigorously from the tower. Justin is out first. We're on the backup engine, so the "just make laps" rule is in full effect. We can count on Jamie and Steve to cruise, but hot shoes Justin and David are a maybe. Johan is a wild card.
We watch Justin go round, and eat egg sandwiches from the snack shack, washed down with bad coffee. The unbaffled stinger is in full ear-splitting song as the Blitzwagen zips past us on the front straight, causing wildlife around the track to get the hell out.
1000 Hrs. Sunday.
Justin brings it in. Dr. Steve is out smoothly and quickly. Sweaty but pleased, Justin reports the 4500-5000 RPM breakup is still there (actually we could sometimes hear it) but still pulls past 5000. Oil temp at steady 220° F., oil pressure at 30 psi steady. The 170 mains seems to have helped a little, but not enough. We are not using a rev limiter that might fail, and the ignition coil was causing no problem on the W125 cam engine.
1100 Hrs. Sunday.
Steve brings it in safe and Johan races out, swapping pit demons for track demons. Still an average gas consumption of five gallons per hour.
1145 Hrs Sunday.
There is a double yellow out for about 15 minutes. From the pits, we can't see anything. We hear that a car has violently spun out and had to be flatbedded off the track. That means he broke something.
1230 Hrs. Sunday.
Johan pits, refuel goes quick, David straps in and exits at full throttle. We're placed at 34th overall and gaining, but not close enough to think that if we keep going as we're going, we'll take C-Class. The engine swap robbed too much time, and this field of cars is quick. There have been some fender benders, including NSF. Right rear fender caved in. Taillight smashed.
Johan's energy pills kick in
Johan has been running at about 3:10 per lap, showing immense restraint. Lots of cars pitting for repairs. Most of them do make it back out.
https://youtu.be/2ACUBH5A6QQ
David drifting into Turn 17
1345 Hrs. Sunday.
David in. We refuel mach snell like a factory stop. Justin goes out. I am impressed. This crew has it together. We are still ahead of JB Bugs. The race ends at 1530, 3:30 PM. That's over an hour plus away.
Justin exited with a full tank of gas (12 gallons), and to save time, he is going to try and finish the remaining race all on his own. We burn an average of five gallons an hour, same as most other 4-cylinder 2-litre cars here. You do the math. It will be close.
Justin passes our garage bay, on the way to the black flag impound.
We watch the clock. The laps and minutes click by toward 1530 Hrs. Suddenly, with only about fifteen minutes left, Justin stops coming around. Our heads are on swivels. Then we see him. He is driving down the inside pit road! Coming back to our garage cubicle. Oh no ... wait ... he passes us. "Must be a black flag," Johan says. "Let's go!" and he and Dr. Steve take off running toward the penalty compound. But by the time they arrive, Justin is already on his way back into the race.
Midafternoon is the hottest time of day. That's 91° F. right now. Justin feels like he is pouring out as much sweat as the BlitzWagen is consuming gas.
Then it happens, the engine stutters, sputters. Justin rocks the car hard left to right to splash what fuel he can to the pickup.
The engine quits. The black flag fakeout took what few extra ounces of gas Justin had. He is not far from Turn 17 and the front straight and tower. In 1966, Dan Gurney, driving for Shelby, actually had trouble at the same spot and pushed his Ford GT MkII over the finish line. He was disqualified of course, but the crowd loved him. Team mate Ken Miles took the win in another Ford GT.
1525 Hrs. Sunday.
A tow truck hooks a strap to the Blitzwagen's airdam tow ring and pulls Justin over the finish line. It counts.
1530 Hrs. Sunday
The checkered flag whips overhead as the cars cross the flag tower. The Blitzwagen has already triggered the transponder.
We placed 31st overall and were on track 14 hours & 34 minutes, logging 194 laps. 7th in Class.
The engine swap cost us about 45 laps, almost exactly how many laps it took for the C class-winning 4-cyl Datsun 2188cc to beat us.
Our best lap time was 3:05. Remember, our drivers were told to go long, not go fast. JB Bugs finished literally right behind us at 32nd overall, clocking a single best lap of 2:57, with 187 laps total, but set a slower average lap speed of 75.7mph, against our 80mph lap average. By comparison, the Class-A winning 350Z had an average lap speed of 85.6mph.
The NSF Chrysler Sebring took 24th overall.
All that's left now is to pack to go home. The spirits of Sebring stay here. I walk back in the dark to our truck and trailer, stepping around the fading images of Porsche Spyders, Ferraris, Mercedes Gullwings, Cobras, and D-Jaguars that crowd this paddock. The Blitzwagen channels them all to us.
PS: What broke? Back in Birmingham, we took both heads off the W125 cam engine. The Spiral Lock wrist pin retainer on cyl #4 had failed, and in escaping from the wrist pin, jammed the movement of the piston and physically stopped the crank from rotating for an instant. That smashed the #2 cyl push rods. Spiral Locks are ordinarily very dependable. We're never had one fail.
The W125 Engle cam engine has 1.25 rockers, 94mm pistons, 78mm stroke, 3-gallon dry sump, aluminum race case, H-beam rods, and dual Solexes from KaddyShack. Kitchen sink wire mesh drain screens attached inside the velocity stack catch the odd dropped nut or bolt.
The End
