A story from the Fuji 1000 Km run

[rheinaoi]

Here goes my semi-dramatic write-up. I hope you enjoy it.

So here I am, petrol and burnt rubber in the air, the ambient nose of the crowd already settled over us all. My hands thump the steering wheel as I wait for my crew to send me back out there. I’m ready, even as I hear the roar of a Sauber C9 coming down the main straight. Damn, he must be doing around 200mph at this point.

“Come on guys I’ve got more fuel than I need for the next stint, hurry up and get me back out there…”

I can already feel my tiny lead evaporating.

So how did I get here you might ask… Well, as with most matters like this it started with a little bet between fellow racers. Testosterone, determination, calculations and a good chuckle tend to make for interesting race days.

I’ve been doing laps on Fuji speedway 90’s for quite some time now, so much that it’s become one of my favorite venues. Like a home track far away from home if you will. For the longest I’ve tried to get a racing M3 GTR to run with the LMP’s here. It was always close, but tire life and lack of horsepower were always the death of me. The local racers, having grown tired of my ranting goaded me into bringing something with a little more punch in the wheels. A Chaparral 2J or overblown 2D was suggested, but I politely refused. I wanted a pretty exhibition race not an all out slaughter.

Clearly annoyed now, the local racers decided to have that little laugh with me. Indeed, what they had in mind did have 940hp and was definitely a racecar if only a very badly disguised one at that. A 2J it is was not, but how blocky and laggy it was still! I must confess; I had a good little laugh myself when my mates suggested I run the ever so unique Cadillac Cien.

Though after I got to really thinking about it the thought became less and less funny.

Race day came and to no one’s surprise really, I caved into the bet and found myself sitting in my Silver Chariot of Doom on the starting grid and in the company of racing greats (more so great cars than great drivers sadly&#8230 and as usual I was sitting in last place.

I’ve driven this car quite a bit early on in the game. It’s bitten me hard many times and tried to kill me a couple more, but a few months ago I had just gotten it dialed in. Though still nothing was going to save me from that God-awful gearbox. To this day I still have nightmares about first and second gear.

Since I was running the supercharger set-up and had an extra hundred pound-feet of torque on hand, I thought it’d be prudent to start the whole thing off in third gear.

The signal came and we all pull the hammer down. In my Chariot of Doom the revs dropped to the floor and she bellowed as the engine roared angrily clawing, impatient to sing its high note at 9000rpm. The rears hooked up and as the speed kicked in, glued me to my seat and pushed my heart a few inches back, I realized I was actually keeping up.

I ate the Corvette C5R for lunch, zipped by the Nissan R390 wiggled around the Nissan R89C and by the end of turn one found myself in the draft of the Nissan R92CP and was well within striking distance of my most worthy adversary; the Mercedes Sauber C9.

I came down on him hard under breaking for the big chicane but didn’t have the right track position. We came out onto the main straight each of us pulling an excess of 140mph around the final turn.

I tailed him all down that long straight. I was doing well over 220mph when I passed him and dived into the braking zone. I saw his nose bobbing up into my rear view and made note of where he was strong. I came to the first chicane and again saw him come up on me under breaking. I calmed myself, made note again and mashed it in third gear and made him disappear.

And I kept on disappearing. About five laps in though I checked the tires and was beginning to feel all of that 1200+ kilogram weight. A lapping of the poor Vette and 25+ second lead was mine, but that would all go away as I had to duck into the pits for fresh rubber.

The Cien was out and about again, now in fourth place and around 9 seconds down on the C9.

I clawed my way back to first and found myself re-lapping the Vette and with a good 10 second lead, only to give it up once more with a mandatory pit stop on lap 12.

The monsters of the group, the C9, R92CP, and R89C finally come for their first pit stop at the end of lap 15. This is precisely the time I decide to go for a brief rally session at the big left hairpin before the second chicane. I recover, but at this rate I’m counting all the seconds I could have had on these guys at the finish.

For an hour I’ve been at this, rubber banding, jumping into the lead by great leaps and bounds. 55 laps in now and here I am sitting in the pits, my hard fought 20 second lead evaporating. I’ve started to pull away with the top three and I’m pretty sure the Vette is well over a lap down at this point if not much more. I can’t be sure because I see him so often lapping him and re-lapping we might as well be teammates. As for the R390 I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. He’s all but driven through a phantom corner and gotten caught by gravel trap in the Twilight Zone.

At this rate I’m not sure if I’m building any substantial lead, but I must admit it’s been an interesting and draining hour.

And I’ve only dropped down to second gear twice for the entire race thus far.

The Chariot of Doom is set down to the tarmac and the road is open. I’m off again!

And here are some stats off a paused game screen for the more technical at heart.

My Chariot of Doom :
Cadillac Cien
940hp (supercharged)
Wing installed (down force settings coming when I finish the race)
Tires: R3’s front and rear
Laps completed: 55 or 228
Fastest lap at moment: 1:14:354
Total Time at moment 1:12’35:250

My worthy adversaries
Sauber C9
Nissan R92CP
Nissan R89C
Nissan R390
Chevrolet Corvette C5R

 

[Smallhorses]

Like your writing style, easy to read and dramatic enough to keep the reader hooked. Look forward to reading the conclusion of this race!

 

[dkstz]

Like your writing style, easy to read and dramatic enough to keep the reader hooked. Look forward to reading the conclusion of this race!

True. What an interesting read!! Can't wait for more... keep it up! 👍 👍

 

[rheinaoi]

Hey everyone, thanks for reading my race report and thanks for the compliments. After far too much waiting, here goes the exciting conclusion. Enjoy!

And here I am once more, in yet another one of my homes away from home; the pits. Less than a hundred laps to go now and I’m listening to the burble of my Cien’s idle. I find that for a driver, over thirty seconds of sitting in complete stillness allows one ample time to contemplate things. It’s a small eternity one has to endure sitting here being chased down, but it’s also a good time to reflect and recover some of that lost concentration.

We’re just about to cross over the three-hour mark in this race and I’m on lap 133. These past hours have been all about driving feel. Competition be-damned.

When I finally came out of the pits my lead had indeed been taken, but once I got back out there and jumped most impolitely in front of the R92CP in turn one, the C9 was back in my sights. It took over a lap of stalking him through the turns. After a 225 mph blast down the main straight and the kind of late braking that leaves harness imprints in your chest I was all over the C9 up to the big left hairpin. I dived in hard; took the inside from him. I caught the red and white blur of the rumbles in the corner of my eye and held the wheel in a death grip. I left it in third gear and buried the accelerator. A menacing growl crept up behind my shoulders as I rode a surge of bottom end torque all the way to the red and white rumbles at the right of me; all the way to that 9000 rpm redline. By the time I’d gotten back to that maddening, buzzing exhaust note I’ve come to know so well, the C9 was just a memory.

Behind the wheel time is squashed under the manic heave that comes from each stab at the accelerator. Every time the brakes are jumped on and called to do their duty and bring the car back down to remotely human speeds it’s like an act of faith at its heart, but then again the driver knows better. It is faith in the pit crew yes, but out there it’s more like the trust rising from an intimate knowledge of the car.

Strapped into that hot cramped cockpit, surrounded by the roll cage and pinned down in my seat, less because of the harnesses but more so by the laws of physics giving quite the chastising, I couldn’t be more trapped. But with the wind whipping by over the canopy, the world whirring by the windscreen and the engine wailing all down that straight, my mind isn’t confined. Every time I think, I’m not in the cockpit, but I’m out there.

My worthy adversaries whiz by, left behind. I see the R390 at last. I don’t care. I see the Corvette again. I don’t care. I’ve put the C9 and company down by over 35 seconds now and I don’t care. It’s the driving that I’m caught up in.

This track, Fuji speedway 90’s, I wonder about it. I scream down that main straight and come to that diabolical braking point, right where the tarmac darkens. I fly around turn one, a two-part complex. When you take it just right the road opens up for you and disappears amidst the blur of the red and white rumbles barely registering.

The road folds and straightens and again. Jump down on the brakes and grind the car to a 68mph halt. Diving in from the edge of the track on the right, always aiming for the left, just barely nicking that first rumble and catching it just at the right moment for the right turn immediately after. The wheels crash along the strip, teasing the gravel as the road beckons again for the accelerator to be buried; the hammer dropped.

You cling to the wheel for dear life doing well over 130mph and keep turning right as your innards want nothing more than to turn left. You can see that next right hander coming. Drill the brakes at the last possible moment, dive down deep into road and aim for the rumble, watch it fly by as the car dips back into the low end of the power-band. That growl comes up again behind your head. Even your eyes are fighting to stay right as you can feel it in your stomach the road leveling and climbing. The buzzing engine scream and transmission whine comes in and the car inches little by little toward the grass at the left. You can see it in the corner of your eye, that ever-looming threat of a runoff and a smash into the wall not far from that. Better judgment tells you to lift, back off the accelerator, but the knowledge in the car keeps your foot planted. You’re only wise enough to realize you’re dancing on the edge of the tire’s grip.

The turn softens and a moment of relief comes. You climb to 150mph with the big left hairpin in sight.

You let the car glide to the right; it’s so subtle a movement it doesn’t even feel like you’re doing it consciously. In your mind you have a vision of the perfect racing line; you can close your eyes, dream it and the car merely follows.

You wake up and stab the brakes. You can feel them heating up to over 1500 degrees, glowing red-hot under the strain. You back off for a split second and get right back on them again. The red and white rumbles at the inside of the turn grow gigantic in the windscreen and the turn flies up to your face totally inevitable. It’s the feeling of leaning closer and closer over the edge of a cliff; only the car to hold you back.

The engine drops impossibly low and deathly silent as you fight tooth and nail to bring this 940hp monster round the bend at 56mph. The outside edge of the road jumps up on you even faster than before.

Your body is hammered, rung and thrashed about as you dip down: the turn loosening its stranglehold on you. Relief comes again as you feel the slow pull of a massive swooping right turn. You can see for miles ahead, all the green hills and mountains. The motor is singing, almost in full trot, all the way up to 190mph. Compared to the road, the breadth of the horizon comes up in slow motion. You have to step back and think before it all registers. But by that time, you’ve already become part of the horizon and gone through it.

The R89C’s already come up in my sights. I glance back and forth between the world of the track and the world of hard numbers. Every time I duck into the puts the C9 come a little closer. While I’m out there the lead extends to exorbitant numbers, 52 seconds. The C9 and company always bring it back to within twenty seconds, but the C9 hasn’t regained the lead for some time and I slip back into that place where time doesn’t matter.
That final complex: that dreaded second chicane. You come thundering down into it. Again, just as you’re awakened from the swooping grace of a 180 mph sweeper, you bear down hard on the brakes. The tires roar out a low chirping squeal, the rear end wobbles and the nose bows ever so slightly under that tremendous decelerating force. You feel the car getting loose. If you’re steering input is only just a bit uncertain, you’ll come flying into this chicane backend first -and after being towed off the track from the wreckage of a spectacular crash you’ll be looking like quite the back end of something too- the transmission whine dies down and the engine falls silent; the whole car takes one giant inhale, ready, in anticipation.

You dive in, the whole body of the car slipping over the rumble. Swinging hard left, all the weight in your body ripped to right. Jump down on the brakes, watch the rumble at the next turn’s edge jump out and bite you as the harness and the car hold you back from oblivion. Feather the throttle, be gentle, you don’t want that front wheel jumping over this rumble strip. You’re wise enough to know that the car corners better with all four of its wheels on the ground.

You’ve got the car diving to the left, all the weight in the world on those right tires. The grass and wall comes up fast and the engine just waits to be set free. Whip the car hard right just at that perfect moment. It’s the most brutal kind of grace. Your body is punched and pounded to a pump, but the car; that engine sings, and she dances through the turn, charging past the apex at over 110 mph. The inside wheel just barely catches the rumble and you get a gentle hop that sends tremors down you’re spine. Careful, that’s the most warning she’s ever going give you.

Leaning out to the left and building up to 150mph, the motor screaming and ready for more, you probe again for that perfect racing line. Jab the brakes for a split second. Get back into the accelerator. You grab for the tiny inside rumble. Red and white stripes whizzing by: you know it’s time to put that lead foot to the floor. 146 mph, the engine can’t take anymore. The outside grass looms close. You give it one more gear and she takes one last breath, a fraction of a second and a brief eternity of calm. The front wheels rest and the entire car in just that moment is given the space it needs. Traction comes back from the edge as the engine’s scream flares up and you’ve finished painting the road in the most glorious of sweeping brush strokes.

All that’s left is that main straight: 220mph awaits you.

This is what a well thought out track can do to you. A hundred laps can go by as you feel it inside you: that vision of the track designer. A crushing victory is yours, but somehow that is of little consequence. You just want one more lap to see if you can get it that extra millimeter closer to perfection and go just a little bit faster.

And that brings us to our conclusion. After about lap 78 or so it really wasn’t much of a race. But as you can imagine the most fun came in the driving of the car.

Here are the vital stats.

Completed: 228 laps
Total time: 5’06’12.836
MOV: +1 lap

Standings:

1: Cadillac Cien (My Chariot of Doom)
2: Sauber C9 +1 lap
3: Nissan R92CP +1lap
4: Nissan R89C (unknown, possibly +2 laps)
5: Nissan R390 (unknown)
6: Corvette C5R (unknown, dead last)

And here are my settings

Tires:
R3/R3

Brake Balance:
8/8

Suspension
Spring Rate:
15.8/14.1
Ride Height
84/108
Shock Bound:
8/8
Shock Rebound:
8/8
Camber:
2.0/1.0
Toe
0/0
Stablizers:
5/5

Limited Slip:
not changed

Driving Aids
ASM: 0
TCS: 3

Gear Ratios:
1st 3.830
2nd 2.700
3rd 1.751
4th 1.311
5th 1.034
6th 0.900

Final: 3.800
Auto: 20

Down force:
45/65

 

[Moloch_horridus]

Excellent report - loved it, here's a red tick.

How many a-spec points were you given for this? I would imagine it was pretty close to 200 with all that weight.

 

[FERGU$_MANERGU$]

 

[rheinaoi]

Whoops! I forgot about the a-spec points The funny thing was, though I was carrying around an extra 200 kg of dead weight compared to well... everyone on the field, I still think I had a horsepower advantage. So according to GT4 logic I deserve a nifty 81 A-spec points for the effort . I'm used to it by now. Some of the most challenging races for me lately have been 1- 8 point races actually. Go figure

 

[dkstz]

Dude, what an IMPRESSIVE description of driving feel!! That's exactly how we feel when driving on the edge and you captured it on words. Awesome words

Thank you man for doing this write-up! One of the best I've ever read!