Ferrari of Houston Track Day

I'll do a write up later. Much too tired after doing over 100 miles on the track.
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login

 

Mo pictures. I'll do a write up later.
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login

 

Mo and Mo
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login
Image Unavailable, Please Login

 

There you go again. You Libs are all alike. Instead of accepting responsibility for your bald tires, you go blame someone else.

 

Cruel, cruel. Actually, I do know the new owner, and he has given me a right of first refusal.

 

Back when I was a kid growing up in Northwest Florida (sadly about 40 years ago), one of the first things you did when you turned 14 was to get a restricted driving license, buy a Honda 90 on time, and get a paper route to pay for it.

Getting that ticket to ride opened all kinds of doors. In the Summer, we’d get up at 3:30 am, fold and throw papers, buy some breakfast, hear dirty stories about girls, watch the older guys (sic) smoke cigarettes, and generally swagger about until we finally went home around 11:00 pm or so. We knew that it wouldn’t last. School, money, work, girls, and college were all storm clouds on the horizon. But at that moment, life couldn’t get much better.

We rode those damn Hondas everywhere. Taking a 250 mile trip was nothing. (Remember, gas was 25 cents a gallon.) So what if it rained? We were cool. We learned about spark plugs and points. We tried our best to destroy those damn things, including stripping them down to the cases with nothing more than the tools in the kit that came with the bike. But mainly, we rode and rode.

We even had a circuit where we’d go by every motorcycle and sports car shop in town. Admittedly, Pensacola, Florida didn’t have a lot of cool shops, but we went to the few that did exist. We’d plant our nose on the glass and gawk at the really cool bikes and cars. We’d argue over which one was the coolest looking and daydream about owning them.

Over time, the owners of these shops got tired of chasing us away and stared letting us hang around to sweep up and wash things. If we could catch them at the right moment, they’d even let us ride some of the bikes. Eventually, some of us even got sponsored to race for them.

You see, back then, the owners of these motorcycle and sports car dealerships were enthusiasts. Almost all of them were former racers who were just trying to pay the bills doing something they loved. On Sunday, they’d be out riding or at the track, not to drum up business, but because that is what they did for fun.

But in all the times that I pressed my nose up to those plate glass windows, I never once even dreamed that one day I’d be participating in a Ferrari track event like this one. I mean, come on. Ferraris are for movie stars and Howard Hughes types. I might be a little bent, but I’m certainly not a wealthy jet setter.

But even after pinching myself, the picture before me didn’t change. Maybe 50 to 60 Ferraris and Maseratis, from GT cars to a 1997 former Michael Schumacher F1 race car. We were at an old converted NASCAR track in central Texas that has been converted into a road course. Corner workers, instructors, an EMT team, and miles and miles of quality lap times.

What was even better was how low key, but organized, everything was. Russell divided us into realistic run groups, and Harrison gave us the pep talk that no one has ever gotten seriously pranged at one of his events, and we were not going to screw up his record. He said that we might be a bunch of rich guys, but we weren’t a bunch of stupid rich guys.

From there, it was nothing, but drive and drive and drive. With so few cars, you could bop until you dropped. Particulary on second day when fewer cars showed up, there was plenty of time to work on technique. In fact, on Sunday, there were times when I had the whole track to myself. Hey, this car still has some warranty left doesn’t it?

For me, the best part was the great instructors. All these guys had thousands of laps under their belt, many of them at TWS, and were all very helpful (not to mention brave to get in a car with all these newbies). I really want to thank Jon Ward and his buddy (whose name escapes me). I don’t have Turn 2 whipped yet, but one of these days it is gonna come to daddy.

I also gotta give some kudos to Anthony Lazzaro. Anthony is one of Giuseppe Risi’s drivers in Risi Competizione. Anthony did something with a Maserati Grand Sport that I didn’t think was possible in a car. You dirt bike guys will know what squaring off a turn means. Basically, you brake very hard and then throw the bike sideways so that you “square off” a turn.

I was following Anthony when I saw him do this with a car, a four-seater GT car no less! It happened so fast that I almost blew the same turn because I couldn’t close my mouth. It was a quick left hand turn (Turn 4 on the 1.8 mile course for those of you who know TWS) that feeds into a chicane. Us mortals learn to brake hard and push through to set up for a next quick right hander. Anthony, conversely, braked so hard that the ass end of that GS unloaded. He then flicked the car to the left so that the ass took a bunny hop sideways (or so it seemed). As soon at the car was set -- bam, he was gone.

Seeing something like that makes me glad that I’m an old fart. Because I have started my downhill run in life, I don’t even have to pretend that I will ever be that good of a driver. Merely being a witness is all I need. Good stuff, Anthony.

Between sets, I got to be 14 again. I must have driven Scotty and the rest of the techs crazy with questions about the F1 car. Why are you doing that? What is this? How’s the car running? I got to swap lies and tell stories with some really great people whose driving experiences have already far exceeded anything that I’ll ever do. Being an accountant by trade, it didn’t take much effort to figure out that there was a lot of juice out there, but everybody was very friendly, very laid back. At the end of the day, this was nothing but a bunch of car guys (and a few car gals) who used to be 14-year old kids with their noses pressed on the glass -- dreaming.

So Giuseppe, Don and the rest of the crew, thank you. An enjoyable weekend was had by all.

Dale

 

Yes, you are correct. Thanks for jogging my memory. Ric was the one was really helped him with Turn 2.

Dale

ps That's also him in the Enzo.

 

Great pics. You must have gotten in the infield. BTW, if you have any of a Burgandy Maserati, I'd love to see em!

Thx, Dale