There are certain things that happen so quickly in life that you barely havetime to realize what an overwhelming impact those events have on the remainderof your life until they're over. What if you knew 90 days from today you weregoing to make a hole-in-one? You knew the time, what hole it would occur,even what club you were going to use. Think how much more you would savorthat event. Think of the anticipation and the reverie of envisioning it overand over in your mind for months ahead of time. This is exactly the state ofmind I enthusiastically boarded my flight to Columbus early Friday morning asa 1 in 60,000 winner in the year long LCI UltimateRide.com contest. Four (4)extremely lucky contestants were chosen to drive the LCI Tasman Motorsports1998-campaigned Champ Car and one (1) to drive the LCI sponsored ToyotaAtlantic car at the Transportation Research Center (TRC) in East Liberty, OH.

The highly coordinated schedule called for all contestants to arrive inColumbus within 30 minutes of one another and to be met by Tom Balliett,Special Projects Mgr. and Shelly Shafer, Hospitality Mgr. for TasmanMotorsports. Two young women from Florida and Minnesota accompanied by theirenvious husbands, an extremely serene young man from New Mexico, a ToyotaAtlantic SCCA Club racer from Ft. Lauderdale, and me, emerged from differentairplanes to meet at Max & Irma's restaurant in the airport to makeacquaintances. In the weeks prior I had several lengthy phone conversationswith Scott Lewis, the SCCA Club racer and winner of the Toyota Atlantic test,and we had already formed a bonded friendship prior to ever meeting. We werethe only winners with any experience in driving open wheel formula cars. Theother three were rank novices, none of which had even driven a manualtransmission road car, let alone a racing car, and it was apparent by theirglazed over eyes filled with a combination of fear and anxiety.

Tom and Shelly drove three of the winners and their spouses to our hotel whileScott and I followed in a rental car we had agreed to share during theweekend. Tasman generously provided each of us with spacious suites and theformalities of check-in were dispensed of thanks to Tom & Shelly's attentionto detail. We dropped our bags off and immediately headed to TasmanMotorsports World Headquarters for a welcome conference lead by none otherthan Tasman chief, Steve Horne. A man of few words, Steve's brief talk wasgracious and sincere, assuring all that the primary weekend agenda was foreveryone to have as much fun as possible.
 

Lined up against one of the conference room walls were (5) large,personalized, plastic boxes. Inside was our custom Sparco LCI / Tasman firesuits, exact replicas of Tony Kaanan's. Also enclosed were personalized Bellhelmets, headsocks, Tasman logo polo shirts and hats, a very cool pair of prorace car driver sun glasses, binoculars, high quality framable prints of the1998 LCI Champ Car, and an envelope generously stuffed with some walkingaround money. With everyone happy with their fire suits, and grateful for theunexpected gifts bestowed upon us by Tasman, we headed to the nerve center ofthe operation for a shop tour, seat fittings and a crash instruction course byChief Engineer, Diane Holl on how to drive an 800 hp, 1500 lb. Champ Car.

Seat fitting in Tasman shop

The gleaming red, blue and yellow racing cars stood out as if they were madeof neon in stark contrast to the predominately white, light gray and slatecolors of the immaculate interior of the shop. 30 employees dressed in theteam colors of red and blue were busy in every department, but none were soengaged they didn't take a minute to shake hands, introduce themselves andwelcome us. "We're all envious of you," was the most common comment. Just aschoreographed as the rest of the day, so went the seat fitting process.Individually we were ushered to the car and converged upon by six members ofthe team who cut and fit pieces of thick, firm, black foam under our seat andaround our back and sides. Since each of the drivers was of differentheights, lengths and shapes, pedal positioning was a challenge. Fortunately,I must be about the same size as Tony Kaanan since only a couple ofadjustments were required for me to sit comfortably inside the extremelyconfining tub. While the crew was asking me questions I should have beenlistening and answering, my eyes and mind were drifting to the view from thecockpit. The immense front wheels and Firestone tires. The sensation ofgripping the thickly padded wheel and moving the 6-speed sequential shifterfore and aft while looking at the blank data acquisition screen. I brieflyclosed my eyes to imagine what melodious mechanical sounds would erupt fromthe magnificently sculpted Honda racing engine sitting just inches behind myback. Would the ground actually shake from exhaust exiting through the eighttightly interwoven headers? "Tim, your seat fitting is done and thedimensions are recorded", the Crew Chief barked. I reluctantly surfaced fromthe cockpit and my intoxicated imagination.

While the others were being fitted I explored every detail of the car. Theside pods and engine cover were off so I had free access to ingest everyexplicit detail of this spectacular machine. There is no dirt, grease, oil,fuel; dirty shop rags or paper towels anywhere in Tasman's facility. Everytool is cleaned and put away after each use and the glowing engine bay I wasviewing reflected that philosophy. It was impeccably clean. I visuallydevoured large chunks of alloy and carbon fiber while gently running myfingertips across the cast Honda logo.

In another area of the shop an engineer was working on aerodynamic changes tothe Tasman wind tunnel car. A miniaturized version in every detail to theChamp Car I had just exited. "We're up second on the schedule next week inIndianapolis right after BAR's F1 car," the engineer said, referring to thewind tunnel facility located in that city. "I'll be happy to answer anyquestions, but there is absolutely no photos allowed in this area," he saidwhile looking at the 35mm camera dangling from my wrist. He explained how thecar is held stationary with only the aluminum wheels moving on the high-tension conveyor belt of the wind tunnel testing machine. "This car is wiredwith sensors in every conceivable area and every piece of date is continuouslydownloaded into the computer during the wind tunnel test," he said whileholding a 3" diameter socket with dozens of tiny connecting ports for me toview. "Impressive," was the only thing I could think while walking awayshaking my head unsure why I couldn't formulate more questions to ask theresponsive engineer. I was in sensory overload surrounded by all of the racecar tubs in various stages of assembly. I paused briefly to gaze upon an8-piston Brembo brake caliper mounted on a platter size vented brake disc madeof carbon fiber. "When you stomp on these babies tomorrow at triple digitspeeds your eye balls are going to feel like they're coming out of theirsockets," the technician joked with a big grin on his face. "Just don't lock'em up and flat spot the tires is my only advise." I thanked him for thewarning, again walking away shaking my head, which now was on the verge ofdizziness.

Diane Holl is the only female Chief Engineer in CART, or in any other premierracing series that I know. She's an attractive, blond, 30-something, womanwith a spirituous British accent and the intelligence of an automotiveEinstein. She ultimately makes the final call on all race day set-ups. Dianegathered the five would-be drivers around the Champ Car for our drivinginstruction briefing. In an effort to reassure our confidence, Diane calmlytold us that driving this racing car was not much different than driving ourpersonal road cars. "Oh, sure," I mumbled to myself. She had us focus on thevery stiff, short clutch release. The sequential gear change lever. Theamber-to-red light panel visible through the steering wheel used to alert usof gear change points. We were to concentrate only on the fundamentalfeatures in the cockpit and not worry about some of the more exotic thingslike roll bar adjustment controls, turbo boost increase buttons, and a bunchof other neat looking stuff. We would be wired for sound and Diane would betalking to us while we were on the track, offering suggestions on the propertrack line, braking and turn-in points, keeping the car balanced andfeathering the extremely sensitive accelerator pedal to control wheel spin.The more vividly Diane described the sensations we could expect while drivingthe $1 million Tasman Champ Car the higher my pulse rate soared in expectancyof the following days test drive.

When you've leaped forward two time zones on a journey to Columbus, 7:00amSaturday morning rolls around pretty early. However, it really didn't mattermuch to me since I had spent more time fantasizing about driving the racingcar than actually sleeping the preceding night. Everyone met in the lobby ofour hotel for a Continental breakfast in preparation for the 45-mile drive tothe Transportation Research Center (TRC) in East Liberty, OH. TRC is anextremely high security vehicle testing facility used primarily by Honda MotorCompany who has an astonishingly large manufacturing plant just minutes away.Its perimeter is a 71/2-mile, 4 lane, 36 degree banked oval track.We would be using a 45-acre slab of ultra-smoothasphalt called the Vehicle Dynamics Area located inside the huge oval. Ahearty crew of Tasman employees was up several hours before me setting uphundreds of orange cones that outlined the 7-turn, almost 4000-foot roadcourse we would be using. We had been given a detailed diagram of the roadcourse on Friday and I had memorized it by heart that night. Only oneproblem, I made the assumption we would run the course clockwise. Wrong!

I hate to think of myself as a skeptic, but on the ride to TRC Scott Lewis andI speculated the driving event may not meet the high expectation both of ushad put on it. Our logic? The 1998 CART finale was the previous weekend.It's a long drive from Fontana to Columbus. The Tasman team and crew had tobe worn out from the grueling, 8-month schedule. Since it's just a handful ofnovice contest winners they'll probably just truck the cars out with a coupleof guys and let us have a go of it. If we can drive the car, fine. If wecan't, tough luck.

Tasman headquarter with new rubber

Boy, were we wrong! As we passed through TRC's tight security we could seethe beautiful graphics of the LCI Tasman transporter in the distance. Thefull staff and crew of employees we had met the previous day during the shoptour were all present and busying themselves with the same routine they wouldfollow on any given test or race day. Set after set of black, powder coatedracing wheels and tires were being stacked next to the transporter. Toolchests, computers, a data acquisition system, a pressurized fueling station,pneumatic air guns, and a complete communications system was being readied.Every piece of equipment was positioned in the exact pit order it was at LongBeach, Vancouver, Surfers Paradise or any other of the 19 stops of the 1998FedEx Championship Series. I was mesmerized watching each of the Tasman crewcompleting their individual responsibilities with the same seriousness andattention to detail as they would if this was the real deal.

Then finally, asif orchestrated on a predetermined command, the glistening LCI Champ Car waseased from its berth atop the transporter and slowly lowered to the ground.All eyes following its every move. The crew gingerly rolled the car into anearby staging garage to be warmed. Quilted blankets covered its massivewings. The engine cover was removed and several of the crew went to workreadying the Honda power plant for ignition. Although I was sipping steaminghot coffee to shake off the chill of the late Fall Midwestern morning, I knewmy internal trembling was caused more by my anticipation of the moment thestarter motor would be inserted just under the rear wing and the gloriousengine would soon bark to life. When the starter motor was coupled, engaged,and the whirling sound commenced, if was but moments before the powerfulracing engine came to life. Sputtering at first, then blasting into fullglory. Its beginning deep growl pitched higher and higher as the mechanicstabbed at the throttle linkage. I could indeed feel the ground shake underthe thin soles of my driving shoes as the thunderous exhaust note reverberatedoff the galvanized steel walls of the building we were within. A huge, ear-to-ear grin overtook my face, which remained present for the next 8 hours,while I relished in the fantastic sounds resonating from the racing car I soonwould be driving.

Tim Youart (L), Eric Lang (M), Scott Lewis (R)

Eric Lang, a Toyota Atlantic journeyman, was flown in from Long Island, NY bySteve Horne to be our driving instructor. We had all hoped Tony Kaanan wouldbe there for the weekend, but I guess if I had a choice I'd be basting on thebeaches of Brazil too. Eric is best described as a very mellow guy with aperpetual smile on his face. He was a pleasure to be around and we allenjoyed not only his patience's, but his company. TRC provided a Honda sedanwith a full roll cage and harness for each of us to learn the road course inbefore we jumped into the big Champ Car. Eric took each of the drivers arounda couple laps as passengers, then switch places so we could take a few laps atthe wheel. This was a comforting exercise for me, so I know how reassuring itmust have been for the three drivers who had never even driven a road carequipped with a manual transmission. By the time we finished with the sedan,Eric Lang's LCI sponsored Atlantic car had been warmed up sufficiently for himto run some hot laps before Scott Lewis jumped in for his test drive. Scottand I had previously agreed to shoot photos of each other during ourrespective test drives, so I grabbed his 35mm camera and went to work takingphotos of him from the moment he slid into the cockpit until he returned tothe pit area with his fist raised in triumphant satisfaction. Scott, beingvery familiar with this series car from SCCA Club Racing, posted someexceptional lap times considering little heat in the slicks on this early, 40degree morning. He may have looped it once, but he caught it in time beforeit stalled, then burned out a pair of respectable strips of rubber inretaliation. Scott was happy and content with his test, but deep down insideI knew he was lusting for a chance to drive the "Big Car."

Since I wasn't scheduled to drive the Champ Car until afternoon, I wasenjoying a leisurely morning visiting with many of the Tasman guys andlearning as much as possible about the car and pit operation. To Eric Lang'sthrilling surprise, Steve Horne gave him the task of bringing the fluidtemperatures up and putting some heat in the Champ Car's massive Firestonetires. The crew rolled the car out of the garage and staged it in the pitarea. The Tasman guys swarmed the car; each focused on their own chore. Igot as close as possible to hear the driving and operating instructions we hadheard the previous day, only this time there was an intense sense of urgency.The crew rolls the car back and forth to ensure the gearbox is in neutral.The electric starter is inserted and engaged in the rear of the engine whileEric flips the ignition switch to the On position and confirms he is ready byraising one hand. The starter rooter whines briefly before the engine firesand Eric stabs at the throttle repeatedly feeding the high strung engine largegulps of racing fuel. I watch the light panel sequence up and down fromyellow to red to yellow as he revs the motor. Eric's been instructed to holdthe throttle position steady at the 3rd yellow light, representing 6000 rpms,and pull the sequential shift level back into first gear. Four crewmemberspush the car off and at his discretion he's to release the 2" clutch traveland simultaneously accelerate the car. We watch with anxiety as Eric stalledit. With the car now dead the silence was deafening. In a good-natured wayeveryone chortles at a seasoned pro driver stalling the car, but in my mind Iwas thinking, "if he can't get it launched how am I going to do it?" The crewrolled the car back into the staging area and the whole process began again.This time Eric revved the engine deep into the red light zone beforedisengaging the clutch and the result was spectacular as he ignited thegigantic rear tires into a billow of blue-white smoke. Everyone applauded hissensational exit and we were glued to the brilliant car carving its waythrough the temporary road course. I watched Eric's every move, listeningintently to what gear he was changing into before, through, and after eachturn. In the two straights I focused on which of the six gears he couldachieve before stomping on those mammoth brakes in preparation for the nextupcoming corner. I devoured every movement, every sound with an astute levelof awareness. I was standing next to Diane Holl who was talking to Ericthrough her headset and after a dozen or so laps she called him back into thepit area. Eric emerged from the cockpit with a permanent grin stuck on hisface. After all his years of racing this too was his first experience in aChamp Car.

Diane Holl's sweet voice in my ear

While heading back for a refill on my morning coffee knowing it would take afew minutes to fit the first of the UltimateRide contest winners into the carI heard my name called out. Apparently Steve Horne had changed the driverline-up and he wanted me to be the lead off person while the tires were stillreasonably up to temperature from Eric Lang's drive. I grabbed my helmet andgloves and ran back to the car. A gathering of Steve Horne, Diane Holl andthe Tasman Crew Chief intercepted me for a few refresher instructions and someencouragement. I stepped into the cockpit seat from the front of the leftside pod. I'm 6', so it's not that big of a stretch for me. I lowered myselfdeep inside the bowels of the tub ensuring I was in the exact seating positionestablished during the fitting exercise the previous day. Contrary to theseating position in the F2000 and Indy Lights cars I have driven, my kneeswere pronouncedly elevated with the heels of my driving shoes resting againsta thin plate just in front of the pedals. Although I was surrounded bycrewmembers fastening all the elements of the racing harness and feverishlyreadying the car, the calm, almost sensual voice of Diane Holl was in myearpiece asking me if I was ready. I signaled with a thumb-up and the crewrocked the car gently to confirm the gearbox was in neutral. I could feel myheart rate rising with the whirling sound of the starter and instantaneouslythe engine lit up. Instinctively I pumped the extremely light and sensitivealloy accelerator pedal, watching the yellow and red light panel rise andfall, and relishing the absolutely immeasurable sound answering to myslightest touch. "Bring the revs up to the third yellow light and hold it.Engage the clutch and pull the shift change lever back one time to select 1stgear," Diane instructed. Although the travel of the clutch is extremelyshort, no more than 2", it requires a great deal of force and pressure.Enough so that my leg was in fact shaking against the tension. The shiftlever, with its somewhat flat, paddle style knob, takes some effort too.

First hands-on experience

Four crewmembers pushed the car off and once rolling Diane told me to releasethe clutch ... I stalled it just as Eric Lang had done. The same gasp ofdisappointment I had heard previously from the crowd was barely audiblethrough my helmet as the crew pushed me back to restage the car again.Remembering how Eric corrected the problem, this time I squeezed the pedalinto the red light zone as I disengaged the clutch and once it was released Islammed the pedal to full throttle. The exceptional thrust hurled me back andinstantaneously I saw the blue/white smoke through the outside corner of myvisor. The huge rear tires were still clawing for traction as I glanced downto see I had already reached the last red light on the panel and the enginewas bouncing off the rev limiter. I lifted briefly and pulled the shift leverback with speed and authority engaging 2nd gear. More thrust, more wheelspin, as the Honda engine blared violently even through the sound dampening ofmy ear plugs. Approaching the first of 7 turns I lifted off the powerabruptly only to learn unexpectedly how fast the car will slow down againstthe compression and short road course gearing. I eased on a little more powerwhile listening to Diane instructing me to feel my way around the courseslowly the first lap until I gathered some knowledge of how the car handledand reacted to my slightest input. What went through my mind at that momentwas, "What does the word 'slowly' mean to her?" Does it mean cornering at30mph or does it mean 60mph? Although I had a brief taste of the brutal, gutwrenching power that could be put down, I had no idea how fast I could drivethe car. It didn't take long to learn the course backward, now it was just amatter of putting the car in the right place in the right gear at the righttime.

The first thing that had to be overcome was my childish fascinationwith playing with the sequential gearbox. Early on I just couldn't resistshifting. It didn't matter if I was short shifting or not, I just couldn'tcontest my desire to row up and down through the gears while listening to thefabulous mechanical sounds which accompanied the gear changes. Once I hadovercome this urge I settled into a lapping rhythm that proved to besuccessful in bettering my lapping times as reflected in the very difficult toread date acquisition screen. Exiting the last 90 degree, left hand turn in1st gear, the course opened up onto a long straight with a gradual left handsweeper which was defined as turn-1. Squeezing on the power just enough tofeel the rear end slide out a little, and running the light sequence throughits full range, I would be in 3rd gear at the entrance of turn-1. Brakingwasn't required, only a slight lift off the power. The Champ car turned in asif it were grounded to a rail. "Point and squirt," I thought to myself with asmile. After the slight lift, back on the power again momentarily beforestomping on the 8-piston, Brembo binders while simultaneously pushing theshift lever up once engaging 2nd. The next three turns were 90 degree leftand right followed by a hairpin left which opened up onto a long straight.The first two turns of this left, right sequence were most effective in 2ndgear with 1st used to exit the hairpin. The sensational responsiveness of thepower range, coupled to instantaneous braking, scrubbed off whatever speed youdesired prior to corner turn-in.

I found myself putting as much power down aspossible before braking at the latest feasible moment. Threshold braking atturn-in, then hard on the power again. It may not have been the fastest waythrough this 3-turn sequence, but the wheel spin fishtail exits made forexciting spectator viewing I later learned. Something interesting dawned onme after the first 4 or 5 laps. I had unknowingly resorted to left footbraking, a throw back to the week I had spent at Jim Hall's shifter kartschool. With no need to clutch, it just seemed appropriate to alternate myleft foot between the dead pedal and the brake. Exiting the hairpin in 1stgear onto the longest straight provided the chance to shift four more times,using 5thgear briefly before standing the car on its nose and starting thenext lap. This was the fastest part of the course and I could barely reachtriple digit speeds before the braking zone. The wonderful experience ofdriving the Champ Car wasn't so much achieving top end speeds, but maneuveringthe car around the short, tight, 4000 ft., 7-turn road course as fast andefficiently as possible. The enjoyment came from the colossal accelerationand braking responsiveness. Holding the power down that extra 10th of asecond longer than the previous lap. Pushing further into the braking zoneuntil the front tires just begin to lockup and a puff of smoke alerts you toease off the pedal if you're going to make the turn-in verses snowplowingstraight through the corner. Diane called me back into the pit area at thecompletion of the lap. "My test couldn't possibly be over," I worried whilerolling into the pit while turning the ignition switch to the "Off" position.The crew swarmed the car again as I listened to Diane explaining that Mr.Horne had advised the crew to turn the revs up a notch. Initially, the5-light sequence represented 2,000 rpm's per light for a maximum rev limiterof 10,000 rpm's at the 5th red light, substantially lower than the 14,500rpm's Tony Kaanan uses during the race season.

Ready for increased power

"Tim, we have electronicallyincreased the power range and now each light on the panel represents 2,500rpm's with the new rev limiter set at 12,500 rpm's." "All right!" Ienthusiastically shouted through my still closed helmet visor. I feltemboldened that I had proven something to warrant a little more of the cars'power potential that had previously been blocked off. The car was stagedagain and this time I exploded out of the pits back onto the course. I couldfeel the 20% boost in power immediately as I laid down a pair of impressive 141/2" wide strips of Firestone rubber. I made the upshift into 2nd on timeprior to reaching the sputtering sound of the rev limiter. On the big brakeshard, this time locking up both of the front wheels at the entrance of theleft, right, left corner sector.

I can't overemphasize how light andsensitive the power pedal is in a Champ Car, and it was never so evident thanwhen I looped it in my enthusiasm to get the power down quickly at the exit ofthe first of those three turns. Fortunately, I depressed the clutch in timeto keep it running, pushed the shift lever up into 1st, and piled on enoughpower to launch the car back onto the course again. I treated the right handpedal with more respect from that point and my lap times improved accordinglyat the expense of somewhat less flamboyant corner exits. Sensing my seat timewas coming to an end, I concentrated on the fundamentals of driving thecourse. I positioned the car correctly at the entrance of each corner toachieve a late apex. I kept the engine in the upper rpm range confirmed bythe constantly lit red lights in the shift panel, and I resisted the urge toupshift. I learned to apply firm and constant pressure to the brake pedal inlieu of stomping down hard. The data acquisition screen confirmed fasteraverage lap speeds and lower ET's were best achieved by running the car in agear no lower than 2nd in the corners and no higher than 4th in the straights.The added power allowed me to exit the slowest corner in 2nd gear with littlewheel spin and I had run enough consecutive laps I was comfortable with thesequential gearbox operation, both up and downshifting. Diane had let me runfor quite some time without any conversation, allowing me to concentrate ondriving the car undisturbed. When her soothing voice finally entered myhelmet I knew my stint was up. "Bring her in, Tim. Well done".

Thumbs Up!

I exited the car to the applause of the whole Tasman team, my fellow contestwinners, and the motorsport press that was there to chronicle the event.Steve Horne was the first to greet me with a slap on the shoulder and another,"well done, very well done," in his New Zealand accent. I was certainlyflattered, but more so, I was enjoying the emotions of absolute exhilaration.When Steve Horne asked me to describe the experience I was speechless. All Icould do was shake my hanging head unable to grasp a single word or phrase toadequately describe the sum of the sensations I had just encountered. "Verygood, your expression says it all," Steve replied.

Shortly after, Diane Holl presented me with a personalized Engineering Reportcontaining several graphs which reflected speed, lateral g-forces, gearselections, steering and braking input and a summary of each of my lap timesby sector. Whereas most of my lap times were consistently in the 30-31 secondrange, my best was 29.75 sec. I was pleased.

Throughout the rest of the morning and early afternoon the rest of the contestwinners drove the LCI Champ Car with mixed results, but similar gratification.A tire changing contest for the winners was scrubbed in exchange for somethingwhich had never been done before in motorsports at this level. Since thefacility had been contracted for the entire day, with the last test drive tobe completed by no later than 4:00 p.m., Steve Horne gave each of hiscrewmembers a 5-lap stint in the Champ car.

I have never witnessed such sheervivacity as each crewmember was told to suit-up by their team owner. Someactually kicked up their heels in route to putting on their fire suits whilescrambling to find driving shoes and helmets to fit. One crewmember said, "13long years I've worked in Indy and Champ Car racing and I've never driven acar once. This is incredible!" Everyone enjoyed watching each other jump inthe car and go through the same staging routine I had done earlier. Manykilled it just as I had done on my first attempt to launch the car, otherssmoked it out of the pit area like a veteran. Everyone emerged with a hugesmile on their face, they too stumped for words to summarize their feelings.It was a marvelous gesture by a gracious team owner to give each of hiscommitted team members a turn at the wheel of the car they had worked so hardto make competitive throughout the season, and it was certainly appreciated byeveryone who drove that day.

Author with "the Boss," Steve Horne

The UltimateRide test day begrudgingly came to an end with parting hand shakesto all of the crewmembers we had come to know during the past couple of days.Unwilling to let our ties to Tasman Motorsports release so easily, Scott Lewisand I invited Tom Halliett and Shelly Shafer to dinner Saturday evening in anexpression of our gratitude for coordinating the event so efficiently. Tomhad plans, however Shelly invited us to attend a CART gathering that eveningcalled "Champ Fans Central." "They're a lot of fun. You guys will have agreat time," Shelly said encouragingly. We happily accepted thinking theaffair would just be a bunch of CART enthusiasts talking racing over cocktailsand appetizers at a sports bar. We arrived at the location at 7:00 p.m. tofind it wasn't a sports bar, but instead an upscale restaurant and theoccasion was the Champ Fans 140 member annual dinner meeting. Everyone wasalready in attendance and seated at linen covered dinner tables. Shelly sawus arrive and seated Scott and me at the head table with none other than SteveHorne and his beautiful wife, Christine. Also at the chief's table wasChristine's younger sister, the gorgeous Susan, Shelly's mother and father andEric Lang. Somewhat uncomfortable that we had accepted one of thoseinvitations that are offered more out of courtesy than sincerity, Scott and Ifelt awkward early on, but breaking the ice by offering to get cocktails forthe "boss," his family and guests. Soon we joined into the banter centeredprimarily on racing and racing venues. At the conclusion of a wonderfuldinner the clubs' president introduced Steve Horne who was the keynote speakerfor the evening. With the memories of the UltimateRide test drive still freshin his mind, Steve began his talk by reflecting on the marketing concept ofthe contest and the occurrences of the day. Specifically, pointing at meseated at his table and joking about my inability to formulate any audibledescription of what it was like to drive the LCI / Tasman Champ Car. In a15-minute speech, unrehearsed and without notes, Steve spoke eloquently aboutTony Kaanan, the entire Tasman operation, the 1998 CART season in retrospect,projections for the 1999 season, and a wonderful tribute to Bobby Rahal, whounderstandably was absent from his hometown fan clubs' dinner meeting.Afterward, Steve opened up a Q & A session that would probably still be goingon had the soft spoken Horne answered each question as thoroughly as he didthe few he fielded.

It had been a phenomenal weekend. I had been running on racing adrenaline foralmost 48 consecutive hours. I felt content that I had made the most of theopportunities that were offered as a result of being picked as one of theUltimateRide contest winners. Perhaps I had forced myself inside the Tasmancircle further than I should. But you only get one shot at rubbing shoulderswith the owner of notable Champ Car team and I wanted to attain as muchknowledge and information as possible to pass along to my SPEEDCENTER cohorts.

FOOTNOTE: Sunday was a backup day if the weather turned out uncooperativeSaturday. There wasn't anything planned except early evening flights back toreality. Scott Lewis and I searched out an address also located in thesuburbs of Columbus, Ohio. We found a sizable building painted completelyblack except for a strip of red trim around the top perimeter. The buildingwas surrounded by a lawn still green and cradled in a grove of hardwood treescolored with Fall. The only windows were tinted very dark and even peering inthrough cupped palms around our eyes we could see but mere glimpses of thenumerous mementos of victory. There was no guard or security, not even apersonal vehicle sitting in the new asphalt driveway. The grounds wereimpeccable. We spotted a gate and an 8 foot chain link fence enclosing theparking area. Three large transporters still attached to their tractors wereparked in exact proportion to one another. The sky was overcast and the airwas still. There was only a very small sign that marked the location and itread ... RAHAL

Tim H. Youart
Albuquerque, New Mexico