Junk yards are no place for a car guy

Growing up in south Jersey, I remember going by the local junk yards and trying to catch a glimpse of what cars might be there as my parents sped past in our Datsun. A small one nearby always had a rusty late-'60s Olds Toronado living out front among the weeds, and an even bigger yard had a pieced-together '68 Camaro perched on the roof, complete with a yellow rattle-can paint job.

To my young mind, there was all kinds of automotive gold behind those fences. Why, I'll bet there are old Corvettes, Porsches, and probably a Ferrari or two languishing in a back corner, just ready to be plucked out and restored!

When I turned 18, I set out one day in search of parts for our trusty Datsun, and was allowed to wander through my first junk yard. It was nothing like I'd imagined. I'd peruse rows and rows of milquetoast family sedans stacked on top of each other, and when I would stumble across the occasional cool car, it had been smashed nearly beyond recognition, and stripped bare by automotive vultures who had been feeding on it for years. It was really quite sad. 

But joy returned to me when I spotted a blue 1982 Datsun 310, just like mine. It even seemed to be in great shape, and I was hoping it had the parts I needed. Unfortunately, it was 12 feet above me, stacked on top of three other cars. A well-meaning employee with a forklift kindly asked if I'd like a better look and, upon seeing my smile, proceeded to punch two holes in the side of the pretty Datsun with the forks, pluck it from the top of the pile and drop it to the ground at my feet, bending the unibody frame in the process. The poor little blue car lay broken and battered in front of me. I lifted the hatchback, didn't find what I was looking for, but thanked the forklift operator for his efforts. He smiled and waved as he picked up the car, and put it in the crusher. Twenty seconds later, it was an unrecognizable blue slab of metal.

It felt like I'd left my heart in that car.

I've always had a personal attachment to cars, and while I've never been one to assign names to them, I often find myself thinking back on what the car and I have been through together. I'd look at the back corner of my old Datsun and remember it being dragged along an embankment when my father fell asleep on a family road trip to North Carolina. I'd look at my friend's Cadillac, and remember driving with the windows down and grinning while we'd blast it down a back road. I'd sit in my old Mazda3, and remember the day I brought it home from the dealership - the only brand-new car I've ever purchased. 

As I walk through junkyards, I can't help but look at the mangled, destroyed cars, and wonder what memories still lie in their chassis. Maybe that green car had an epic road trip. Or maybe someone got their first kiss in the back seat of the red one. One day, someone was overjoyed to have purchased that silver one brand-new, and drove it home full of pride. It makes me sad to think that, like most scrapped cars, they will eventually be destroyed, and forever erasing those automotive memories.

I recently had to make a trip to a local junk yard, a massive facility out by the railroad tracks. It's much better organized than the ones I grew up with, but the cars seem to be more mangled now than I remember them being in my younger days. I find myself slightly relieved when I stumble upon a Triumph Spitfire and an Alfa Romeo Spider of the same vintage keeping company in a back corner. But alas, they're both stripped bare, the Alfa's windshield frame has been cut off and thrown aside, and the rest of it has been there so long, it is nearly unrecognizable.

I try to remind myself that many of these cars will be recycled into new ones, ready to start new memories for their owners. But the romantic in me still weeps over the carcasses, and can't help but feel sorry for the now-faceless spirits languishing among the rows. 

As for my Datsun, it blew an engine and eventually found its way to the same scrapyard as that blue Datsun on the pile. I was glad I wasn't home when they came to pick it up. It turns out all those memories were only worth a total of $75.

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On a side note, my favorite junkyard relic was an old Pontiac Fiero GT that was in a yard in New Jersey. The car had obviously burned to the ground from an engine fire. However, the yard decided to keep the entire car because the driver's door was absolutely perfect.

Holladay's Used Auto Parts, where Christian found the little, blue Datsun.

Photo courtesy of Google Maps

Le Mans 2011

If you love the 24 Hours of Le Mans like I do, then this weekend is a big one for you. Friends know not to call during the (somewhat spotty) broadcasts on SPEED channel, my wife knows I won't be mowing the lawn until the race is unceremoniously pre-empted by NASCAR practice laps, and I'll be shopping for enough snacks and carbohydrates to keep me fueled for at least 20 of LeMans' 24 hours.

As the saying goes, "You can't tell the horses without a program," so every year, I like to give a little bit of a background on the race - who to watch, what to look for, and some personal opinions and observations thrown in for color.

So what should you look for? Check out the class listings below. We'll even do a race recap on Monday, so stay tuned.

LMP1 (LeMans Prototype 1 - the big, fast cars)
Once again, it's the classic AUDI/Peugeot matchup for the overall win. Both teams are running diesel engines which have proven to be fast and easy on fuel consumption. Of special note is the introduction of the new AUDI R18, which is a closed-cockpit car (which is a switch from many previous years of open-cockpit AUDIs). This means the tires are narrower, but the new roof (and ungainly trailing dorsal fin) should mean higher speeds and stability along the two long straights at LeMans. As always, we'll be cheering for Tom Kristensen, the most winningest driver in LeMans history. Currently, AUDI holds the #1 and #2 spots, with Kristensen's car in fifth, with Peugeot 908s all around.

Diesel should be an interesting race this year, since the top seven cars are all within 1/2 second of each other.

Henri Pescarolo has come close to an overall win a few times in the past, and his team is always hungry for a win, even after some real heart-breaking finishes. Unfortunately, they've switched to a gasoline-powered engine this year, and will start the race in 9th, nearly eight seconds per lap slower than the pole-sitting AUDI. The Toyota-powered Lolas of the Rebellion Racing team should have an interesting battle all their own with the Pescarolo team, and are on the grid in 8th and 10th place. Unfortunately for the factory Aston Martins, they only managed to qualify in 22nd and 25th positions (20+ seconds per lap slower than the pole-sitting AUDI), so they will not pose a serious threat this year.


LMP2 (smaller, lighter, but less powerful versions of LMP1)
LMP2 typically plays second fiddle (usually third or fourth fiddle) to the rest of the race. The teams keep making them faster, but due to the class rules, the cars end up being tremendously handicapped. In smaller races, LMP2 cars have been known to score an outright win over the faster LMP1 class, but not at LeMans. This, incidentally, is why Roger Penske's Porsche RS Spyders (that dominated the ALMS series) never participated at LeMans. The team was invited, but he declined out of protest since the P2 class was hobbled so much that an overall win wouldn't be possible.

Nevertheless, if the French TV feed decides to show some LMP2 action, enjoy it like you would a rare delicacy. All the cars seem to be within a second of each other, respectively, so it could come down to tire and fuel management to decide the class winner.


LM GTE
This year marks the first year of the LM GTE classes, which are retain 95% of the rules for the class previously known as GT2 (there is no longer a GT1 class). The vehicles are based on road-going cars and must have gasoline engines only. The minimum production number is 100 copies for major manufacturers (25 for small ones), and use an engine of which a minumum of 300 have been made. Cars with carbon chassis are allowed as long as there are a minimum of 300 produced. Engines have to remain in their same location, and supercharged engines have air restrictors.

The end result should be a great "run what you brung" series, with the likes of such enthusiast favorites as the Corvette ZR-1, BMW M3, and Porsche 911 RSR battling with newcomers like the Ferrari 458, Lotus Evora and even an Aston Martin Vantage and a Ford GT.

One of the intriguing things that has been added is the split of the LM GTE class into "PRO" and "AM" classes. The PRO class allows for three professional drivers to pilot each car, while "AM" only allows for one professional driver per car, with the other two being amateurs. Between the driving and the factory money in the PRO class, it should quickly become a game of the "haves" versus the "have nots".

Nevertheless, the ones to watch should be the duels between the Corvette Racing ZR-1s against the BMW Motorsports M3s. The Bimmers set the class lead, with the lead car being nearly 2 seconds per lap faster than both Corvettes. Also keep an eye on the silver/red Porsche 911 RSR of the Flying Lizard team, a particularly talented and fast crew, that is currently 12th in class.

The real X-factors in the LM GTE class are the new Ferrari 458s. Although a PRO team has one sitting 2nd in class at the moment with a blistering speed not far off the lead BMWs, fuel management and reliability could either put the cars out front, or bench them one by one. To no one's surprise, the Lotus Evoras are in dead last, and third from dead last.

Enjoy the show - I know I will!

AUDI R18 (LMP1 class pole position)

Photo from lemans.org

Signatech Nissan Oreca (LMP2 pole position)

Photo from ototweet.com

BMW Motosport M3 GT (LM GTE Pro pole position)

Photo from bwmblog.com

AF Corse SRL Ferrari 430 Competizione (LM GTE AM pole position)

Photo from Andrew Goldstraw on Flikr

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The Magic of Le Mans

I remember being about 14 years old when I first found out about the 24 Hours of Le Mans. I happened to catch it on some TV sports channel, and I remember watching the Sauber team running their pair of silver Mercedes-Benz C9s to an overall win. The cars were unlike anything I'd ever seen before - they were sleek and swoopy and spacecraft-like, had a great engine sound, and fire blasted from the exhaust pipes on every shift. Best of all, there was a bunch of equally wild-looking cars racing, too.

At the first commercial break, I learned that I was watching an endurance race called the 24 heurs du Mans. The premise was simple: Drive as fast as you could through eight miles of the French countryside, then do it for 24 hours straight.

Ingrained in my memory is watching those silver Mercs streak along the track, then through the fast right-hander known as "Tetre Rouge" ("redhead"), then on to the 4-mile long straight, famously known as "Mulsanne". Imagine what an 800+hp car can do when you floor it for four miles! (Ed. note: during the late 1980s, the turbocharged Porsche 962s were reportedly hitting speeds in excess of 250mph.)

To a young car geek, it was all magical. As I got older, I read even more about the race, and fell in love with its rich racing history and tradition. Here are just a few:

- Until 1970, the race was started with the cars not placed on a grid, but parked along the pit wall. When the starting flag was waved, drivers would run across the front straight to their awaiting cars, start them up, and drive away with reckless abandon! During the last year of this type of start (1969), famous driver Jacky Ickx protested the unsafe start by casually strolling across the track to his car, where he took great care to fasten his safety belt. Although he was one of the last to start the race, he eventually won.

- In 1962, Ferrari brought their new for 1962 (and darling of the ball) Ferrari 250 GTO, driven by Mike Parkes. During an altercation with an Aston Martin, the GTO ended up in the sand trap at the end of the Mulsanne straight. The car ended up completing only 52 laps before it retired with overheating issues. When the car was restored in the early 1990s, sand was still found wedged in the nose.

- During the 1949 race, Luigi Chinetti won the race in a Ferrari 166MM after driving for over 23 1/2 hours straight (his co-driver became ill after being in the car only 20 minutes).

- Even non-race fans are familiar with the spraying of champagne by race winners. This was started by Dan Gurney when he won the 1967 race with AJ Foyt in a Ford GT40.

- The worst crash in motor racing history happened in 1955 when Mercedes-Benz brought one of their 300 SLRs to the race. Near the beginning of the front straight, the Mercedes-Benz collided with an Austin Healey. The impact broke the Merc's engine from the chassis, sending it skipping through the crowd, killing 86 spectators.

Victories, tragedies, and traditions alike, it made for 24 hours of drama that only a racing enthusiast would get into. These days, the cars are still very exotic, but both the track and the cars are much safer. Fortunately, this hasn't hurt the stories that are told during those 24 hours.

To this day, I still wake up early on a Saturday to catch the first several hours of the race. I get chills watching the field roll off the grid, and hear the engines come up to speed as they come out of the last of the Porsche curves and sweep onto the front straight. I'll watch through the night, catch a nap in the early hours of the morning, then am back up at 5am to watch the last four hours. What can I say? It's my Superbowl.

This year, the race is scheduled for June 11-12, starting at 9am EST (3pm French time) and is being shown by the Speed Channel here in the States. If you find yourself around a TV, give it a few laps, even if you've never watched another race, or are a dyed-in-the-wool NASCAR fan.

There is truly no greater spectacle in motorsports!

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The Legend of Chip Miller

Seven years ago today, the car world lost one of the truly greats, Chip Miller.

I met Chip during a family vacation to Ocean City, NJ when I was 15. I was riding my bike when I came across a red, 1990 Corvette ZR-1 in the driveway of one of the many ginormous houses that sit on the beach. I'd never seen a ZR-1 in person, so I stopped to gaze at it from the sidewalk.

As if on cue, the garage door opened up, and a man backed out a loud, black Cobra. My jaw hit the ground. He must have seen my reaction, because he looked over, and beckoned me over with a broad smile. We chatted about cars while he hosed off the Cobra (which turned out to be a replica - but he had two real ones "back home"). Two of the things that struck me as instantly cool about him was that by age 30, Chip had owned a Ferrari Daytona. And he'd returned a then-new Viper because of it's overwhelming awfulness. Yes, he was a car guy's car guy.

"Have you ever seen a Callaway Speedster?" he asked. I knew there had been only 10 twin-turbo ones made, that Otis Chandler owned #1, and that they were the hottest Corvettes ever.

"Just in magazines," I said with a shrug. He beckoned me into the garage, where a second garage door was installed on the back wall that opened into the first floor of the house. He opened the door, and sitting there was Chip's Callaway Corvette Speedster, which was #10 and only had a handful of miles on it at the time. As if that wasn't amazing enough, next to it was the C4 Corvette that won the first Corvette Challenge Series race in 1988 (it was the red Doug Rippie car at the top of the link - Ed.). By comparison, the white 1987 Porsche Speedster was fairly mundane in such company. On the back wall was a Chevrolet promo model of every year Corvette, and at least a thousand books on cars.

It was all an amazing experience, not just because of the cars, but because Chip seemed like such a genuine nice guy.

I ran back and told my parents about what had happened. "So what's he do?" they asked. I admitted that I didn't know. "Well, you should go back and find out what he does that he can afford all these great cars!" It was their way of inspiring me. Their philosophy was that if someone out there was living your dream, find out how they made it there.

I admit I was a bit embarrassed to knock on Chip's door again. "Could I interview you?" I asked. He laughed, but invited me in. We sat upstairs at the kitchen table, and talked about his life.

Chip had graduated from a junior college, and was able to scrape up enough money to invest it with a business partner, Bill Miller (no relation - Ed.). Together, they bought a large plot of land in Carlisle, PA that came to be known as the Carlisle Fairgrounds. They started hosting events like antique shows, and eventually turned to the automotive world, which now is the primary focus of the venue.

If you've ever been to a Carlisle Events show, you've probably seen Chip wandering the crowd. I'd often look him up (and even ran across him at a non-Carlisle show), and was thrilled when he'd recognize me, and ask questions about things that only he and I would have discussed. To a young car enthusiast, it really meant a lot, and made you feel special.

I don't remember where I first saw it, but I was terribly upset to read of his death. Chip had been diagnosed with a rare disease called Amyloidosis. From what I'd read, it attacks the body and leads to a miserable state of life. In Chip's case, it had attacked a number of his organs very quickly, and he passed away in a matter of weeks.

My own father would pass away two years later, but at the time, I felt like I had lost another father figure. I couldn't help thinking how tragic it was that such a wonderful, caring, and genuinely nice guy would have been given such an awful ending to his life. It didn't seem to be a fair fate for such a good person.

Not long afterward, I was attending a Carlisle show and I ran into his son, Lance. I had practiced what I thought I might say if I saw him. It sounded great in my head, but instead I found myself fumbling over my words. "I know you don't know who I am, but your Dad was really great, and I enjoyed meeting him, and..."

"Of course, I remember you! You came upstairs at the beach house and talked with him. He was thrilled that someone so young would be that interested in him," he said.

I once read that one of the things that Chip wanted to do was to make a difference in peoples' lives. Chip definitely made a difference in mine, and is one of the people that I credit with making me the car enthusiast that I am today.

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For more information on Amyloidosis, and the Chip Miller Charitable Foundation, please visit http://chipmiller.org/.


Check back here for a photo soon - just need to scan it in. - Ed.


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Like A Scene From A Movie

One of my favorite parts of a movie is the soundtrack. It's one of those subtle things that can adjust the way the viewer sees the film, and takes the scene from something mundane and makes it incredible.

Just think - without the soundtrack, Indiana Jones would just be a dude in a hat. Tony Manero might just be doing stylish square dancing. Smokey and the Bandit could just as well be going for a scenic drive to Texarkana.

Sometimes in life, things come together. And you have the really cool, seemingly orchestrated moment that happens just by chance.

One night many years ago, I was driving north on I-295 from Delaware towards New Jersey. It was about 2:30am, and traffic was light. But it was one of those great, mid-summer nights, and I had the Miata's top down and the radio blasting.

Out of the radio came the surreal 1984 hit, "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths. As I sped the red roadster down the highway, I was the only one for miles on the interstate. The headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating dashed white lines on the road, only intensifiying the feeling of speed. The exhaust crackles and pops resonated off road signs and the occasional parked 18-wheeler. And while the lyrics aren't particularly cheerful, Johnny Marr's guitar wailed from the speakers right through my soul - and I thought the whole world felt streamlined and magical as I sped through the night and across the southern span of the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

All was well until about mid-span, when I spotted a set of headlights coming up behind me at a quick pace. Knowing I had probably blown way over the speed limit during my fantasy, I figured it was probably one of the bridge police catching up to me for a chat. I let off the gas, coasted down to the speed limit, and waited for the red and blue lights to go on.

But they never did.

Instead, I watched as the approaching car moved over two lanes, and I caught a flash of something un-police-car-like under one of the orange streetlamps. I quickly turned down the radio, only to be greeted by the sound of a Ferrari flat-12 engine blasting by me at full chat, contained in a red Testarossa.

And like a scene from a movie, all of it was perfect and incredible.

photo from speedhunters.com



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Ferrari shopping; and why dealerships need doormen

I can still remember my first Ferrari.

It was 1986, and the mother of a schoolmate brought their red 308 GTB. It was a rainy day, which only enhanced the red color against the grey, muted colors around it. It was stunning, and as all of us in Mrs. Cooper's fifth grade class stopped to look out the window, it was readily apparent that it was the first time many of us actually lusted after something.

As the years passed, I learned more about these legendary cars. I hung posters on my walls. I'd flip out over the sight of a Testarossa. I'd sit and list off the complete specs of a F40, then list off the differences between European and US spec cars. I was a hopeless Ferrari nerd.

Did you know that Ferrari chassis numbers on road cars used to end in odd numbers, and the race cars had even ones? I did.

Did you know that when they restored GTO #3765 (the one that Mike Parkes famously put into the sand at the end of Mulsanne in the 1962 LeMans), they found sand wedged in the corners of the nose? I did.

Did you know the original color of Kirk F. White's 365GTB/4 Daytona that Brock Yates and Dan Gurney drove cross-country during the first Cannonball Run race? I did. (It was gold, before it was painted Sunoco Blue.)

See? Ferrari nerd right here. Not as nerdy as some, but I can still rattle off some really obscure stuff.

Oddly enough, to this day, I have never had a ride in a Ferrari. In fact, it's only been within the last couple months that I was graciously given the opportunity to sit in one. It was a lovely silver 1966 330GT 2+2. Not quite the epitome of the Ferrari hierarchy, but its V12 sounded great, it's wire Borrani wheels were lovely, and the interior smelled of aged European leather. I nearly shed a tear as I ran my hands along the spindly, thin wooden steering wheel. The yellow in the Cavallino logo has looked brighter to me ever since.

This past weekend while on a trip to New York City, I happened across Ferrari of Manhattan on 55th and Park Ave. It's located on the corner, ground floor space made of large windows. The cars inside are lit with very bright lights making them appear to be the jewelry that they are.

I didn't want to bother the busy sales team, who were busy avoiding tourists, but my wife and our friend, Peter, dragged me in. All I could do was stand there admiring the scene. 2011 is a great vintage for Ferraris, and in front of me was a dark silver California, a screaming yellow 458, and a very red 599 that would have had confused vampires licking the fenders.

I probably could have taken a seat in any one of them, but they were not mine. They were ready to start their own part of Ferrari history; maybe to become the first object of lust for yet another 10 year old.

I just hope he remembers the whole odd/even chassis number thing.

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So what about the doorman comment? Well while inside, a gentleman in dirty jeans, a NASCAR shirt and a cigarette behind his ear walks in and sits down on a $1,200 Ferrari kids' pedal car. He then looks over to his wife, who's on the other side of the dealership, and announces, "Hey hon! I found MY Maaarr saydeeees!"

We left before Security was called.


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Who the heck is this guy?

While I'd like to be modest, and say, "Here's a little bit about me," in actuality, it'll be a bit more than that. You see, I've had many great automotive influences in my life that have helped mold me into the car geek that I am today. You'll hear about several of these great folks in coming posts, but just know that there's been some wonderful people who have allowed me to pick their brain, and enjoy gleaning whatever I could from them and their cars.

Growing up, my interest in cars consisted of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars. And wow, did I have a million of them. Literally. In fact, I still have a bunch somewhere in storage. They're all chipped up, some have bent axles, but they've all seen many thousands of pretend road miles. Even today, I still look into that box, and I find cars like the pink Lamborghini Countach, or the red Ferrari 308 GTB (which was a long-time favorite) and can still remember running them around my parents' coffee table. "Don't chip the table!" my mother would scream. Sorry, Mom. It was my 5-year-old's need for speed.

I always enjoyed looking at the occasional car magazine, but what made me a true car guy was the day (around age 10) I got a ride in a custom Hugger Orange 1976 Corvette that belonged to one of my mother's co-workers. It was bright orange, with brown leather interior. And it was LOUD with a 4-speed, and a lumpy cam-induced idle. I sat in that low-slung car, barely able to see out of it (that pit of an interior that is the Mako Shark '68-'82 Corvettes...), and it was life-changing. My body pinned to the back of the seat as we charged through the countryside at full-bore. It was the coolest thing ever!

Over the years, I'd get rides in a lot of cool cars, and every one of them left an indelible impression on me. From the truly great, to the truly awful, each one would get my own brand of car reviewing. In my head, I sounded like Brock Yates!

Eventually, someone planted the seed in my mind that actual people designed the cars that I had always loved. What? You mean I could do that??? And many, many pages of notebook paper and miles of pencil lead later, I'd created my own study-hall portfolio. I still remember my first "design study" - variations on the first generation Ford Taurus. I'd developed a whole series that ranged from sport coupes, to a Ranchero, to a targa-topped wagon. But supercars were the most fun to draw.

Sometime around 1993, a family friend, Don Layton, introduced me to the world of hot rods. I was amazed what could be done to existing cars using parts from other cars. The paint, the stance, the sound - it was all new and exciting to me. Don took me to my first real hot rod show in Ocean City, NJ, and introduced me to yet another automotive influence - Egon Necelis. Egon and I hit it off well, and shared another wonderful chapter in a young man's car life.

Since then, I've gone from getting rides in cars, to being able to drive them. And from having to bum rides to car shows, to being able to get myself there. I ended up doing a series of articles and show coverage for a web site called Speedoptions.com (which is now out of business). The pay wasn't much, but it was cool to finally see my work in print, and the feedback I'd get from the readers.

I still subject every car I drive to a car review. I suppose it's still that 5-year-old in me that enjoys running the cars around the coffee table - driving them the way they should be.

And enjoying every minute of it.