- 1,002
To start, i'll throw up a dramatized ring lap i wrote up a few months ago for an english project. more will follow.
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Calm, such a peculiar word. As I sat in the CTR, awaiting my turn at testing, calm was what I seemed to be, but hardly what I was....
I saw every bit of it in my mind. The world was a blur as the track itself coursed through me, as I glided through every corner of the 13 mile track seemingly separated from the world, in my own reality, where pavement and car, driver and track were the only beings. I was indeed dancing with the Devil himself, God watching on, waiting for his turn to step in.... The Nürburgring....designed to test every fibre of a driver's will, and ultimately his capability to withstand such a circuit
Calm was what I was to the outside world... It almost looked as if I was asleep, unconscious even.. Inwardly, I was probably giving myself a large ulcer from focus....The 'Ring was not to be treated lightly, and though I'd memorized every inch of it, the task at hand was not an easy one.
The track ran through my mind slowly, so slowly I could see the graffiti on the track surface. The world outside the pavement was a blur... The Armco a gray line, the surrounding German forest a solid blur of greens.... Only the pavement ahead, and the rumble strips were clear and crisp.....
"You're good to go.....don't crash, eh?" came the crackled voice in my ear, laced with a thick German accent.
I snapped to outside reality. My visualization had stopped just before Karussell... Close enough. It had gotten closer, then panned back rapidly, and fully blurred, much like losing sight of a dream upon first waking....
I rolled to the line... We were doing a standing start near T13 instead of a rolling start from the Dottinger Hohë straight.
"Whenever you're ready", again came the heavily accented voice, telling me, albeit in nicer terms, "Get your ass in gear".
The glare of the sun was in my eyes, and I flicked the visor down on my helmet. I knew I would be bringing it back up in places, and snapping it back down again.... It was a hassle, but a necessary one. The 'Ring has weather that changes many times a day and you can go through a single corner, perfectly dry, you've got great traction.... Then the next you're sliding on a puddle of water. Driving lines are essential. Cloud cover can be nonexistent one second, and then cause near-darkness the next, and the splotches of trees covering the road in places dont offer any aid, at any time..
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the lower brightness and dulled colour from the visor. The world had turned a strange pallet of gray and green....gone were the blue patches of sky. It was now just a single, featured grey mass above the daunting pavement. I could hear myself breathe, feel my very heartbeat, steady, and as slow as one who has slept all day. I was calm in body, not mind.
With the high-output flat-six purring just behind my right ear, I shoved the clutch in, engaged first, brought the revs up to 5500rpm, and sidestepped the clutch. With only a small squeal of protest from the meaty Bridgestone's out back, I was off.
It was a short run to T13, and I hadn't properly adjusted yet. I wasn't good through the first corner, simply because I wasn't thinking like a racer... I wasn't looking far enough ahead, I was relying on too much reactionary driving.... At the 'Ring, your vision does not go far ahead; most corners are blind, and never what they seem at first. Because of my comparative lack of experience, (on most tracks, 75 laps is enough to memorize every inch. At the Ring, that is a bare minimum) I wasnt visualizing ahead, now that I was driving.
Eventually, however, I set myself into the "mode". I flew through the Hatzenbach section, and into Hocheichen. The concrete barrier of red and white to my left, I eased off the throttle, cranked the wheel in, trusting the car to hold, and eased back on again, clearing the bend. After clearing the somewhat unmemorable short section after Hocheichen, I found myself on the Quiddelbacher-Hohë straight.
Here, I could plan ahead. In the back of my mind I was planning the lines I'd use for Flugplatz and Schwedenkreuz, two high speed bends preceded by uphill sections...
I began to climb up to Flugplatz, let off the gas, and not more than half a second later, I felt the sudden weightlessness of being in the air. My hands wanted to fly up, into the roof of the car, and for that split second, I could barely keep them on the wheel. Thinking clearly, I tapped the throttle, to keep the wheels spinning, and stay under control when I landed. When I did land, I couldn't stop my hands from slamming back into the wheel, such was the force of the landing.
Aremburg, the hairpin after Schwedenkreuz, was (as always) an experience. From over 120-130 mph to hard braking, to extreme acceleration, it was utterly invigorating. This time was not a let down. One second, I was on the brakes as hard as I dared, doing my best to avoid locking the big cross-drilled Brembos up and flatspotting the tires, and the next I was at wide-open throttle, eating up the duration of the hairpin. Despite the insane lateral G force exerted on my body midcorner, it seemed to just go from full stop to full go in an instant, the tail of the car willingly rotating, allowing me to clear the exit beautifully.
This was always a strange compromise to experience. While I wanted to stop as fast as possible, my brain telling my foot to clamp down as hard as it could, my own sense told me that I couldn't, because it would lock the wheels, screwing the exit of the corner at hand, and also making my life exponentially more close to being snuffed out in a blink.
Coming out of Adenauer Forst, the Chicane section after another uphill climb, I dove into Metzgesfeld, trail braking through Kallenhard, and rolling right on through Wehrseifen to Ex-Mühle, with no problems. I hadn't expected any, except perhaps on Ex-Mühle, where the road is excessively uneven. The car bounced and I was jolted around quite hard, feeling the harness protests at being stretched and contorted.
Bergwerk is a peculiar corner. It seems very tight at first, tricking (sometimes) me into braking far too long and hard, costing me a lot of time. On this lap, I managed to remember that fact, and took a much wider approach, choosing to trail brake for a time, and then cut inside to get more speed for the uphill section. It worked well, and I took the corner perhaps faster than I ever had before.... I was exhilarated to the fullest at this small fact. And planned to push the car harder still.
Now the sun was gone, and it was dark. I flicked my visor up, knowing that before long I'd be flicking it back down. There was never a truly safe time to do this on the 'Ring but, I knew that taking the second or less to do so was safer than trying to drive in the dark, with a visor down.
My mind wished to wander. It thought of what lay ahead, and then thought too far ahead. I could feel the tunnel vision sinking in.... The world around me blurred, the corners of my vision darkened, I could hear my own steady breath, as I wound my way through to Kesselchen.... Each shift upwards was smooth and precise. I was lost in the car, the thrum of the engine behind me.... Pitch and vigor raising with the increasing RPM of that wonderful Porsche flat-six.
I was brought back to the situation at hand at the sight of the final approach before the Karussell section ahead. This was perhaps the most demanding section of the course, every bit was downhill from here on out, except for the smallest of uphill climbs near the very end....
Once again, I was brought back the present as I entered the bowl of the Karussell. The concrete below me willed the car's back end to break loose, and it strained against me. But the Bridgestones held, and I got around cleanly, exiting and leaving the rumble and roar of the concrete bowl behind, to echo for all to hear. The stiff suspension was taking its toll. The Ring is never flat for more than perhaps 10 feet in any direction, and I was consistently being reminded of that fact through the car's chassis.
Screaming down the Wipperman section, aptly named, for it is nearly a downhill slalom, stretching from the exit of Karussell to the Brünnchen pair, demanding full rhythm and precision, especially with a car as tail heavy as the CTR. Braking and turning whilst going downhill is a guaranteed recipe for disaster in most any car, much less one that wishes to set the engine upon your back at every corner. My every move had to be perfectly calculated. On this particular lap, every move wasn't.
On the second corner in the section, I flicked inward while braking for no longer than a fraction of a second, but as I did, the happy tail found a viable way around the front end, and took it without hesitation. I felt the car begin to slide, fighting itself, as the rear tires skidded and skipped along the uneven surface.
The world seemed to zoom in, and the edges of it rounded, such as looking through a 'Fish eye' camera lens. Panic grew in the bottom of my mind, burrowing in and growing every moment. Things then took a turn for the worst as I swiveled my head to find a point of the road to attempt to aim for, the trees parted behind me, and I was blinded by the flash of reflection in the mirror before me.
Instantly I grabbed for my visor, slamming it down forcefully, also letting go of the shifter, and taking myself out of driving position. How I managed to keep one hand on the wheel is beyond me. With my last vestiges of clear thought, I prevented myself from thinking that nailing the throttle would help, as it did in front heavy, lower powered cars. This car was powerful enough to boil the drive tires through to 3rd gear under sudden throttle, and that was not what I needed at this moment.
My mind, did not think. My conscious was discarded. Everything was instinct alone. Pulling off the throttle by a fraction of the pedal at a time, I eased gently, oh, how gently, onto the brake. Trail braking to ease the wheels back into traction, and aiming for the line on which I needed to be, I trusted the cars caster to bring me steady and straight once out of the corner. As I felt the car stop fighting me, and the back wheels ceased their incessant high pitched whine, I relaxed ever so slightly.
Cloud cover had developed (again), and with the visor down I had no choice but to lift it up again as I approached the next bend in the famous road.
Seeing again in drivers vision, and leaving the panic of the last corner behind, I set my sight on Eschbach.
Clutch, down into 2nd for Eschbach, up into 3rd on exit, back down into 2nd for the Brünnchen pair. Down the long bend to Pflanzgarten, up into 4th, nealy 5th on the way down the section. Catch air for half a second, more negative G's, slamming back down, around Pflanzgarten itself, swing to the outside, nearly touch the sandtrap on the other edge of the bricked rumble strip, swinging around the Schwalbens-Chwanz pair of corners, and the mini karussell, a half bowl of more concrete.
Again my mind had no cognizant thought, and only my instincts of driving coursed through me. I was completely thoughtless, heedless of the German voice telling me to slow down and relax. I heard nothing, tuned it all out, but the roar of the car, only that mattered enough for me to hear it. Once again, both my ears were covered with empty glasses, dulling the resonance of any sound but the car itself.
Through the final corner before Dottinger-Hohë, onto the longest single straight of the track, tunnel vision truly now taking over. Flying into 5th gear, 6th gear, nearly hitting top speed, the sun coming from behind the Nurburg castle, again, I was nearly blinded. Thankfully I was on the straight, or I would have been in a good deal of trouble once more. Throwing down the visor, and resolving to not raise it again out of nuisance, I went back to the driving position I'd started in.
Through the final corner section, there were 3 bends; a right, with extreme braking involved to enter correctly, to a much slower and smoother left beside the entry road to pit lane, to another right that leads away from the F1 GP circuit, which was closed for testing by the Mercedes team on this day. After that, it was a straight line to the finish.
As I approached the first right, I started braking early. Perhaps a little too early, but after the shenanigans the car pulled during the Wipperman section, I was hardly as aggressive as I was when I'd started, though I had no thought of this. The brakes, however,had other ideas, this time taking over for the hefty rear end in trouble making.
The front brakes locked, as I'd been leaning on the pedal a bit too hard, and the car began to try to slide out. I lost the line, and only barely managed to contemplate, in my growing panic, that perhaps I should let go of the brakes.... My experience, or lack thereof, had been fully showcased 2 times. Despite these setbacks, I was determined to set this particular mistake right. I let off the brakes, tapped the throttle to save the slide, being in a high enough gear to not spin the rearward wheels, got onto a semi decent line, slowed as well as I could, and went round the corner cleanly, despite the horrid line.
The last 2 slow corners were relaxed, and I used them to cool down from the lap. Crossing T13 Start/Finish..... Those fleeting 8 minutes of my life were perhaps the most enthralling Ive ever experienced.
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----------------------------------------
Calm, such a peculiar word. As I sat in the CTR, awaiting my turn at testing, calm was what I seemed to be, but hardly what I was....
I saw every bit of it in my mind. The world was a blur as the track itself coursed through me, as I glided through every corner of the 13 mile track seemingly separated from the world, in my own reality, where pavement and car, driver and track were the only beings. I was indeed dancing with the Devil himself, God watching on, waiting for his turn to step in.... The Nürburgring....designed to test every fibre of a driver's will, and ultimately his capability to withstand such a circuit
Calm was what I was to the outside world... It almost looked as if I was asleep, unconscious even.. Inwardly, I was probably giving myself a large ulcer from focus....The 'Ring was not to be treated lightly, and though I'd memorized every inch of it, the task at hand was not an easy one.
The track ran through my mind slowly, so slowly I could see the graffiti on the track surface. The world outside the pavement was a blur... The Armco a gray line, the surrounding German forest a solid blur of greens.... Only the pavement ahead, and the rumble strips were clear and crisp.....
"You're good to go.....don't crash, eh?" came the crackled voice in my ear, laced with a thick German accent.
I snapped to outside reality. My visualization had stopped just before Karussell... Close enough. It had gotten closer, then panned back rapidly, and fully blurred, much like losing sight of a dream upon first waking....
I rolled to the line... We were doing a standing start near T13 instead of a rolling start from the Dottinger Hohë straight.
"Whenever you're ready", again came the heavily accented voice, telling me, albeit in nicer terms, "Get your ass in gear".
The glare of the sun was in my eyes, and I flicked the visor down on my helmet. I knew I would be bringing it back up in places, and snapping it back down again.... It was a hassle, but a necessary one. The 'Ring has weather that changes many times a day and you can go through a single corner, perfectly dry, you've got great traction.... Then the next you're sliding on a puddle of water. Driving lines are essential. Cloud cover can be nonexistent one second, and then cause near-darkness the next, and the splotches of trees covering the road in places dont offer any aid, at any time..
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the lower brightness and dulled colour from the visor. The world had turned a strange pallet of gray and green....gone were the blue patches of sky. It was now just a single, featured grey mass above the daunting pavement. I could hear myself breathe, feel my very heartbeat, steady, and as slow as one who has slept all day. I was calm in body, not mind.
With the high-output flat-six purring just behind my right ear, I shoved the clutch in, engaged first, brought the revs up to 5500rpm, and sidestepped the clutch. With only a small squeal of protest from the meaty Bridgestone's out back, I was off.
It was a short run to T13, and I hadn't properly adjusted yet. I wasn't good through the first corner, simply because I wasn't thinking like a racer... I wasn't looking far enough ahead, I was relying on too much reactionary driving.... At the 'Ring, your vision does not go far ahead; most corners are blind, and never what they seem at first. Because of my comparative lack of experience, (on most tracks, 75 laps is enough to memorize every inch. At the Ring, that is a bare minimum) I wasnt visualizing ahead, now that I was driving.
Eventually, however, I set myself into the "mode". I flew through the Hatzenbach section, and into Hocheichen. The concrete barrier of red and white to my left, I eased off the throttle, cranked the wheel in, trusting the car to hold, and eased back on again, clearing the bend. After clearing the somewhat unmemorable short section after Hocheichen, I found myself on the Quiddelbacher-Hohë straight.
Here, I could plan ahead. In the back of my mind I was planning the lines I'd use for Flugplatz and Schwedenkreuz, two high speed bends preceded by uphill sections...
I began to climb up to Flugplatz, let off the gas, and not more than half a second later, I felt the sudden weightlessness of being in the air. My hands wanted to fly up, into the roof of the car, and for that split second, I could barely keep them on the wheel. Thinking clearly, I tapped the throttle, to keep the wheels spinning, and stay under control when I landed. When I did land, I couldn't stop my hands from slamming back into the wheel, such was the force of the landing.
Aremburg, the hairpin after Schwedenkreuz, was (as always) an experience. From over 120-130 mph to hard braking, to extreme acceleration, it was utterly invigorating. This time was not a let down. One second, I was on the brakes as hard as I dared, doing my best to avoid locking the big cross-drilled Brembos up and flatspotting the tires, and the next I was at wide-open throttle, eating up the duration of the hairpin. Despite the insane lateral G force exerted on my body midcorner, it seemed to just go from full stop to full go in an instant, the tail of the car willingly rotating, allowing me to clear the exit beautifully.
This was always a strange compromise to experience. While I wanted to stop as fast as possible, my brain telling my foot to clamp down as hard as it could, my own sense told me that I couldn't, because it would lock the wheels, screwing the exit of the corner at hand, and also making my life exponentially more close to being snuffed out in a blink.
Coming out of Adenauer Forst, the Chicane section after another uphill climb, I dove into Metzgesfeld, trail braking through Kallenhard, and rolling right on through Wehrseifen to Ex-Mühle, with no problems. I hadn't expected any, except perhaps on Ex-Mühle, where the road is excessively uneven. The car bounced and I was jolted around quite hard, feeling the harness protests at being stretched and contorted.
Bergwerk is a peculiar corner. It seems very tight at first, tricking (sometimes) me into braking far too long and hard, costing me a lot of time. On this lap, I managed to remember that fact, and took a much wider approach, choosing to trail brake for a time, and then cut inside to get more speed for the uphill section. It worked well, and I took the corner perhaps faster than I ever had before.... I was exhilarated to the fullest at this small fact. And planned to push the car harder still.
Now the sun was gone, and it was dark. I flicked my visor up, knowing that before long I'd be flicking it back down. There was never a truly safe time to do this on the 'Ring but, I knew that taking the second or less to do so was safer than trying to drive in the dark, with a visor down.
My mind wished to wander. It thought of what lay ahead, and then thought too far ahead. I could feel the tunnel vision sinking in.... The world around me blurred, the corners of my vision darkened, I could hear my own steady breath, as I wound my way through to Kesselchen.... Each shift upwards was smooth and precise. I was lost in the car, the thrum of the engine behind me.... Pitch and vigor raising with the increasing RPM of that wonderful Porsche flat-six.
I was brought back to the situation at hand at the sight of the final approach before the Karussell section ahead. This was perhaps the most demanding section of the course, every bit was downhill from here on out, except for the smallest of uphill climbs near the very end....
Once again, I was brought back the present as I entered the bowl of the Karussell. The concrete below me willed the car's back end to break loose, and it strained against me. But the Bridgestones held, and I got around cleanly, exiting and leaving the rumble and roar of the concrete bowl behind, to echo for all to hear. The stiff suspension was taking its toll. The Ring is never flat for more than perhaps 10 feet in any direction, and I was consistently being reminded of that fact through the car's chassis.
Screaming down the Wipperman section, aptly named, for it is nearly a downhill slalom, stretching from the exit of Karussell to the Brünnchen pair, demanding full rhythm and precision, especially with a car as tail heavy as the CTR. Braking and turning whilst going downhill is a guaranteed recipe for disaster in most any car, much less one that wishes to set the engine upon your back at every corner. My every move had to be perfectly calculated. On this particular lap, every move wasn't.
On the second corner in the section, I flicked inward while braking for no longer than a fraction of a second, but as I did, the happy tail found a viable way around the front end, and took it without hesitation. I felt the car begin to slide, fighting itself, as the rear tires skidded and skipped along the uneven surface.
The world seemed to zoom in, and the edges of it rounded, such as looking through a 'Fish eye' camera lens. Panic grew in the bottom of my mind, burrowing in and growing every moment. Things then took a turn for the worst as I swiveled my head to find a point of the road to attempt to aim for, the trees parted behind me, and I was blinded by the flash of reflection in the mirror before me.
Instantly I grabbed for my visor, slamming it down forcefully, also letting go of the shifter, and taking myself out of driving position. How I managed to keep one hand on the wheel is beyond me. With my last vestiges of clear thought, I prevented myself from thinking that nailing the throttle would help, as it did in front heavy, lower powered cars. This car was powerful enough to boil the drive tires through to 3rd gear under sudden throttle, and that was not what I needed at this moment.
My mind, did not think. My conscious was discarded. Everything was instinct alone. Pulling off the throttle by a fraction of the pedal at a time, I eased gently, oh, how gently, onto the brake. Trail braking to ease the wheels back into traction, and aiming for the line on which I needed to be, I trusted the cars caster to bring me steady and straight once out of the corner. As I felt the car stop fighting me, and the back wheels ceased their incessant high pitched whine, I relaxed ever so slightly.
Cloud cover had developed (again), and with the visor down I had no choice but to lift it up again as I approached the next bend in the famous road.
Seeing again in drivers vision, and leaving the panic of the last corner behind, I set my sight on Eschbach.
Clutch, down into 2nd for Eschbach, up into 3rd on exit, back down into 2nd for the Brünnchen pair. Down the long bend to Pflanzgarten, up into 4th, nealy 5th on the way down the section. Catch air for half a second, more negative G's, slamming back down, around Pflanzgarten itself, swing to the outside, nearly touch the sandtrap on the other edge of the bricked rumble strip, swinging around the Schwalbens-Chwanz pair of corners, and the mini karussell, a half bowl of more concrete.
Again my mind had no cognizant thought, and only my instincts of driving coursed through me. I was completely thoughtless, heedless of the German voice telling me to slow down and relax. I heard nothing, tuned it all out, but the roar of the car, only that mattered enough for me to hear it. Once again, both my ears were covered with empty glasses, dulling the resonance of any sound but the car itself.
Through the final corner before Dottinger-Hohë, onto the longest single straight of the track, tunnel vision truly now taking over. Flying into 5th gear, 6th gear, nearly hitting top speed, the sun coming from behind the Nurburg castle, again, I was nearly blinded. Thankfully I was on the straight, or I would have been in a good deal of trouble once more. Throwing down the visor, and resolving to not raise it again out of nuisance, I went back to the driving position I'd started in.
Through the final corner section, there were 3 bends; a right, with extreme braking involved to enter correctly, to a much slower and smoother left beside the entry road to pit lane, to another right that leads away from the F1 GP circuit, which was closed for testing by the Mercedes team on this day. After that, it was a straight line to the finish.
As I approached the first right, I started braking early. Perhaps a little too early, but after the shenanigans the car pulled during the Wipperman section, I was hardly as aggressive as I was when I'd started, though I had no thought of this. The brakes, however,had other ideas, this time taking over for the hefty rear end in trouble making.
The front brakes locked, as I'd been leaning on the pedal a bit too hard, and the car began to try to slide out. I lost the line, and only barely managed to contemplate, in my growing panic, that perhaps I should let go of the brakes.... My experience, or lack thereof, had been fully showcased 2 times. Despite these setbacks, I was determined to set this particular mistake right. I let off the brakes, tapped the throttle to save the slide, being in a high enough gear to not spin the rearward wheels, got onto a semi decent line, slowed as well as I could, and went round the corner cleanly, despite the horrid line.
The last 2 slow corners were relaxed, and I used them to cool down from the lap. Crossing T13 Start/Finish..... Those fleeting 8 minutes of my life were perhaps the most enthralling Ive ever experienced.
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