Greeting the Armco
As some of you may have read recently this Stig has teamed up with a Rastafarian named Olevi Doctrove and also with Naftali Ayeiko from Bexley Light Car Club to form a new rather silly named equipe named Roots Racing.
We’ve decided to enter a racing series that suits our aims to raise the profile of motorsport in the black community. So it would require a half decent car, good racing, value for money and essentially – strong media presence.
There was only one option – I had thought about it last year but never sorted it all out but given the chance again I decided that the Uniroyal Team Challenge was about right.
The series for those of you who don’t know it is a European import, it’s a one make series consisting of multi driver endurance races lasting between a 3 and 25 hours!! The big draw is that all the cars are prepared by the same team and about half the grid is run on an “arrive and drive” basis. You just turn up and everything is laid on for you – even helmets and overalls if you need them.
The cars in the series are – well you know the Herbie films? In one of them, there is a mean Black and Red Porsche 917 (my favourite car by the way). Now a hidden hard core auto porn scene got cut and ended up on the cutting room floor – but it depicted Herbie getting it on with the 917. The resulting offspring was the Dubois VW.
The UTC car is a mid engined rear wheel drive single seat racing car, the tubular space frame chassis has a tuned 1800cc VW golf Mk 2 GTI engine on carbs rather than injected (I think)  and all enclosed fibreglass bodywork. From the back of the bodywork a wing sprouts. Apparently, it does generate a decent level of downforce, as does the front splitter – there is certainly a lot of grip and the steering ain’t light as you’ll find out later. All up, the car weighs 700kg which gives it an ok BHP per tonne, fun if not earth shattering.
The first round of the 2003 series took place a few weeks ago at Snetterton in Norfolk (odd county) so the Root brigade headed east the day before to take advantage of two one hour test sessions. We arrived at the track late and I was told I was first to go out in our immaculate all black car – save for some Uniroyal logos, a couple of Motorsport News stickers and those all important 7Oaks stickers.
I clambered into the car, just about squeezing myself through the door. I was bolted into the seat by the ever present and helpful team of mechanics and it dawned on me – the cog handle was on the wrong side, this car was Belgian in origin. I’d never even sat in the driving seat of a southpaw before let alone change gear. The chief mechanic talked me through all the controls – nothing too different from the Fiesta.
I had only felt my way through the box twice before the session started and I pressed the start button, (one of the mechanics had been warming it up for me but switched off before I got in).
I pushed the little black button and BLAAAAGGERRRRWHIIIRRR a loud growl burst into life like some demented animal centimetres behind my Vic Elford styled helmet. Well forget this for a laugh I selected first and drove off down the pit lane and was waved onto the track after a brief stop to show a wrist band to say that I’d signed on. The crazy growling animal followed me out of the pits and I slowly toured through the first two turns feeling my way into third, I cruised into the Revitt straight and gave it all the beans. I can’t repeat what I said as the growling animal went crazy and everything moved quickly. My words were drowned out by the hard revving engine, but followed along the lines of “This really is rather rapid!”
Braking into the first chicane – Esses - it popped a little on the over run, as I struggled to get it into the first one, at which point I realised I was driving a big Kart and relaxed. The bomb hole – fun and flat; Coram, the car gets lively and bucks like some Texas Bronco but is totally flat out; Russell, took a bit of kerb hopping and the start finish line was just a case of staring at the braking point.
I spent the rest of my 20 minutes settling into the car and learning to use my right hand. Naftali had a good run as well, Olevi got a bit het up and spun it into Russell in a silly fashion and got a ticking off from the series co-ordinator.
There was a long break till the next session, during which I found it easier and hung out a few nice consistent laps at a decent pace. An overnight stop in a local B+B and an evening out in Wymondham convinced me that being miles from the nearest slight incline (let alone a hill) makes you more than a bit funny in the head.
Raceday dawned damp and cold but by the time we arrived at the track it had cleared up.
Qualifying went well, and the grid positions were drawn out of a hat in reverse order. I was placed on pole position. Olevi was meant to start but the organisers wouldn’t let him and decided I should as I’ve got circuit racing experience.
We were held at the pit exit for ages and the engine started to overheat, even with the fan on, as did the driver. But soon enough I was out there cruising round to the grid, a thumbs up to the 76 car next to me and off on the green flag lap. Coming around to the grid again to take the start, I let the field drop away on the straight and let the cooling system do its job. I backed up the field in Coram and proceeded to pole position.

5 seconds

Red light

Green, I’m off neck and neck with the 76 car; I had the line for the first turn and attacked my way through the first corner in the lead. Into the second slower right hander I still lead as I went to select third and… nothing, no gears top be found at all. I managed to find fourth and got back underway. But lost five or so positions, and a yellow job came past on the straight. It quickly became clear that to drive out of corners in third I would have to hold it in gear with my right hand and steer with my left – which just about took all the strength I had in my left arm. I soon got the hang of it and got up to speed and started catching the yellow job – soon I was involved in an almighty scrap for position (I’m not sure which) with the yellow job that passed me. He was making time on me through Riches and Sear and was more consistent in the Bomb Hole but I was quicker than him in the two chicanes Esses and Russell, and I was a touch more confident through the big fast one, Coram.
As I caught him in Esses I was surprised to see flame was popping out of his twin exhausts, then realised mine must be doing the same – how cool is that! We exchanged places lap after lap until I messed it up. He learnt that I was making loads of ground on him through Coram and Russell so he took an ultra defensive line and I suddenly realised I’d run out of road. I was wheel to wheel with him at the turn-in point. He was running deep so I went straight on across the grass. Thinking I’d broken the front splitter I came into my box to check all was ok – it was. I headed out again to continue the scrap with the yellow job, which was right in front of me as I left the pits.
The scrap continued after my brief excursion across the Norfolk countryside until my stint ended after 40 minutes. I came into the pits, handed over to Naftali, and told our mechanic about the gearbox troubles but before I had a chance to get across the full nature of the problem, I was collared by a film crew trying to do their best Louise Goodman impression.
My second stint followed those of the other two, who both had spins and a nasty misfire brought a long stop to remedy whatever was wrong. Olevi had managed to switch the engine off on the track and lost us more time. I struggled on my second stint with the increasingly soggy box and with the left wing mirror breaking.
After two hours and twenty minutes of me behind the wheel my weekend’s driving was done but the race continued and Olevi brought it across the finish line in 11th place, but we would have finished much higher if it wasn’t for the box troubles and the other issues. Hopefully we’ll be out at Donnington for the next round and Spa after that for the 25 Hour race.

Why do VW have such long pencils, its 300mm long at least – why I ask you?

Stig of the Dump