Over the weeks and months, the BRKC has evolved, and me with it. From reticent outsider (or Johnny No Mates) at round 1, I've gradually become integrated, part of the core. This is due in no small part to its excellent Facebook page, where drivers, followers and organisers come together between races.
Most of the drivers compete in other series beside the BRKC, and my interest is piqued one evening when the subject of the British 24 Hours is raised. I've mentioned elsewhere that I won the 24 Hours at Daytona Milton Keynes in 2009; I'll be returning with part of the same team later this year. The British 24 Hours, at Teesside, is the UK's other big 24 hour kart race. Like Daytona it attracts a huge entry and serious talent. Fellow BRKC driver Alex Vangeen is putting a team together under the BRKC banner; before I know it I'm signed up, paid up and looking into hotels. I'm home alone while Marianne is away sailing. Clearly I can't be trusted.
So, to Brentwood. My first visit to Essex has been a pleasant surprise: I wasn't expecting forested lanes and pretty little villages so close to the M25. As I park at Brentwood Raceway - a wide, smooth 800m circuit surrounded by the forest of Thorndon Country Park - I'm praying for rain. That may come as a surprise given the disaster that was round 4, but again, I've attempted to glean a little circuit knowledge before race day.
On Saturday evening, I met five of my fellow drivers - including Alex, my British 24 Hours team captain - for a pre-race test session. Which happened to take place on a sodden track. But unlike Matchams last month, this circuit retains a fraction of grip when it's wet. I enjoyed myself and set some quick times. Though not as quick as Alex, who appears to be something of a Rainmaster. This bodes well for our big race in the Frozen North.
Race day is cloudy and blustery. After a comfortable (if lonely) night in a nearby Holiday Inn, and a relaxed morning, I'm ready for anything. Alex and I and the other Saturday drivers stop one step short of a rain dance. But to no avail.
After just five laps of dry practice I feel more or less dialled in. The circuit is fairly simple, with a long straight followed by a flat-out 180 degree right hander which leads into a slower, more technical infield section. The final corner, in front of the pits, is the trickiest: a fast chicane with a wide, flat kerb which needs to be driven over. But hit it wrong and it bounces the kart: the loss of traction loses you time all the way down the following straight. I'm not sure I get it 100% right all day.
I've drawn a 10th place (out of 11) grid slot for my first heat and have a fleeting five and a half laps to make up places. Five and a half, because on this circuit, the start and finish lines are on opposite sides of the track. Nobody can think of a similar layout elsewhere.
I make my best start of the season and somehow find myself sixth after the first lap. Good pace and some neat passing sees me fourth at the flag, thoroughly pleased with myself. This is more like it. My delight redoubles when I realise I've managed to beat none other than the great Bradley Philpot, despite having started behind him.
There are rumbles of discontent in the ranks, though. This race has a significant injection of one-off local entries - ten or so of our total of 35. They all appear to be about eleven years old and there's talk of dirty driving, although I've yet to experience it.
In my next heat, though, I'm tagged into a spin at the second corner. I never see the culprit, but it tumbles me down the order. I recover to finish eighth.
Two more heats. In one I'm hobbled by a slow kart and hold station to finish eighth again; in the other I start third but lose two places to a pair of youngsters whose combined weight adds up to a box of Rice Krispies. But I'm driving solidly and making the best of what I have; I'm happy with tenth on the grid for the B final.
Today, tenth seems to be working for me: I blast up the inside into the first hairpin on lap 1, and people magically fall out of the way. For the second time today, I'm sixth at the end of lap 1.
And there I encounter BRKC stalwart and racing instructor James Auld. James is in the heavyweight class and carrying at least 10kg more weight, but for the next nine laps I'm alternately grinding my teeth in frustration and shaking my head in admiration. I'm quicker, and 4th placed driver Harry Wicks is tantalisingly within view, but James puts on a brilliant display of defensive driving. It's hard but absolutely fair: no weaving or bumping (aside from when I get clumsy on the brakes) - he just places his kart just so and keeps me at bay.
It's a valuable lesson and the most fun I've had in a kart all year. I'm sixth at the flag, 17th overall. It's been a good day: the result still isn't stellar, but no less than 7 of the local lads make the A final, so I'm effectively 10th.
With only 4 of our regular drivers in the A final, the BRKC are predominantly spectators. And we're not impressed. There is some shoddy driving, a subsequent stewards' enquiry, and tears from a couple of the local littl'uns afterwards. It's all a bit School Sports Day and in my opinion, not up to the high standards of the BRKC. If you want to play with the adults, you need to behave like one - as all of our excellent under-16 regulars do.
Still, a good event at a friendly circuit and for me, a solid result. And just two weeks to wait until the season finale...
Monday 20 June 2011
Monday 6 June 2011
BRKC Round 4. Matchams, Bournemouth, Sunday 5 June 2011
As I turn off the leafy lane into the entrance of Matchams Leisure Park, the clouds hang low overhead. Like Cambridgeshire last month, there's something spooky about this place. At one time it was clearly a vibrant destination, but these days it's a sprawling ghost town of abandoned buildings and roads that lead nowhere. It did briefly rise to notoriety in late 2008, when it hosted the ill-fated Lapland New Forest scam.
But spooky or not, as I thread my way up the access road towards the kart circuit at the far side of the park, I've got a good feeling about today. For I'm armed with a weapon I've not had before this season: knowledge. Matchams is reasonably close to my home in Southampton; yesterday, a karting friend and I entered a team endurance race. Against two stag groups and a smattering of casual karters we won easily; more importantly, I have an inkling of what lies in store.
The grid is thinner this month, the location less convenient than of late; the BRKC regulars are bolstered by some local talent. As I'm beginning to realise, local knowledge counts for a lot here.
At 420 metres according to the website, this is the shortest circuit we will visit this year. It feels a little longer, perhaps because it winds between trees. Or it could be that every lap takes such a toll that you feel it must be longer.
It's bumpy. Not rough or nobbly, but proper bounce-an-inch-off-your-seat-count-your-fillings bumpy. There are sections where just hanging on to the steering wheel is a challenge, let alone turning it. The second corner is a fast, tightening right-hander with a tyre wall to the left and what feels like a row of sleeping policemen underwheel; hit the bumps wrong and the kart simply launches you into the tyre wall.
Circuit owner George Lovell is proud of the quality of his karts, and rightly so: they're consistent and handle nicely, though their short wheelbase makes it difficult for me to cram my lanky frame in. I feel like an elephant in a shopping trolley.
Still, I'm quick in the test sessions and in the free practice before the heats. My first race is heat two, and I've drawn pole position. I'm sitting on the grid, raring to go with that slightly weak-boweled feeling that only adrenalin brings... when the rain starts to fall.
It's heavy enough that the circuit is soaked in seconds; I get away in the lead, but by the time we get down to turn two I can already feel the slick tyres slithering on the rutted surface. Tentative on the brakes, I get mugged by a local and lose a place straight away.
By lap three it's turned into the heat from hell. I've raced in the wet many times. I've won races in the wet. But I've never encountered a wet surface like this. Parts of it are rough enough that the tyres dig in, giving you precious nuggets of grip; but most of it is heavily rippled tarmac, worn smooth and coated in rubber. With a layer of water on top, the kart floats across it at pathetically slow speed, ignoring all attempts at direction by its hapless driver.
Over three heats and a final I try several techniques. None of them work aside from the locals' line through one hairpin: drive right around the outside of the corner with your right wheels in the dirt at the edge of the track. With hindsight, the correct method seems to be to pretend you're cruising round on an in lap. Any attempt to push the kart results in disaster.
Everybody is struggling to some extent, but I've found it harder than most. After perhaps the least enjoyable karting event of my life, I'm 19th out of 29 and have, incredibly, scored two points. But it's a poor showing: I've allowed my frustration to seep into my driving, making matters worse. I slink home, thoroughly disgruntled and wondering why I keep putting myself through this. Perhaps I need to face an uncomfortable truth: maybe I'm just not good enough to compete at this level.
But spooky or not, as I thread my way up the access road towards the kart circuit at the far side of the park, I've got a good feeling about today. For I'm armed with a weapon I've not had before this season: knowledge. Matchams is reasonably close to my home in Southampton; yesterday, a karting friend and I entered a team endurance race. Against two stag groups and a smattering of casual karters we won easily; more importantly, I have an inkling of what lies in store.
The grid is thinner this month, the location less convenient than of late; the BRKC regulars are bolstered by some local talent. As I'm beginning to realise, local knowledge counts for a lot here.
At 420 metres according to the website, this is the shortest circuit we will visit this year. It feels a little longer, perhaps because it winds between trees. Or it could be that every lap takes such a toll that you feel it must be longer.
It's bumpy. Not rough or nobbly, but proper bounce-an-inch-off-your-seat-count-your-fillings bumpy. There are sections where just hanging on to the steering wheel is a challenge, let alone turning it. The second corner is a fast, tightening right-hander with a tyre wall to the left and what feels like a row of sleeping policemen underwheel; hit the bumps wrong and the kart simply launches you into the tyre wall.
Circuit owner George Lovell is proud of the quality of his karts, and rightly so: they're consistent and handle nicely, though their short wheelbase makes it difficult for me to cram my lanky frame in. I feel like an elephant in a shopping trolley.
Still, I'm quick in the test sessions and in the free practice before the heats. My first race is heat two, and I've drawn pole position. I'm sitting on the grid, raring to go with that slightly weak-boweled feeling that only adrenalin brings... when the rain starts to fall.
It's heavy enough that the circuit is soaked in seconds; I get away in the lead, but by the time we get down to turn two I can already feel the slick tyres slithering on the rutted surface. Tentative on the brakes, I get mugged by a local and lose a place straight away.
By lap three it's turned into the heat from hell. I've raced in the wet many times. I've won races in the wet. But I've never encountered a wet surface like this. Parts of it are rough enough that the tyres dig in, giving you precious nuggets of grip; but most of it is heavily rippled tarmac, worn smooth and coated in rubber. With a layer of water on top, the kart floats across it at pathetically slow speed, ignoring all attempts at direction by its hapless driver.
Over three heats and a final I try several techniques. None of them work aside from the locals' line through one hairpin: drive right around the outside of the corner with your right wheels in the dirt at the edge of the track. With hindsight, the correct method seems to be to pretend you're cruising round on an in lap. Any attempt to push the kart results in disaster.
Everybody is struggling to some extent, but I've found it harder than most. After perhaps the least enjoyable karting event of my life, I'm 19th out of 29 and have, incredibly, scored two points. But it's a poor showing: I've allowed my frustration to seep into my driving, making matters worse. I slink home, thoroughly disgruntled and wondering why I keep putting myself through this. Perhaps I need to face an uncomfortable truth: maybe I'm just not good enough to compete at this level.
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