Since we had to get up unreasonably early, I made sure I loaded everything I would need in the new car before we turned in for the night. My driving suit, helmet, gloves and shoes all went in the car, but really, that was it. Knowing that everything but my personal equipment would be taken care of sure made packing a breeze. No cooler for cold drinks, no lunch, nothing- all would be provided. Sure, I was used to that kind of service thank to the Track Club guys, but I still remembered having to go through my checklist back when I first started.
It was going to be an hour and a half drive in the morning and I wanted to be there by seven, since the track went hot at eight, and I wanted to be rolling the moment they waved the green flag. Leaving the apartment before five thirty meant that I had to be up at four thirty and Emmy awake by five.
Emmy was about the opposite of a morning person, but she could be ready quickly when it was required. I’d packed a pillow in the car, too, so she could get some sleep on the drive. Since breakfast would be provided at the track, there was no need to even worry about grabbing a bite before hitting the road.
The drive was uneventful, and soon enough we pulled into the track’s driveway. We signed the form at the gate and got our wristbands, and were directed to the left. “Look for the big rig with the giant BMW logo on it,” the woman manning the gate said when I told her why we were there.
Sure enough, there was a giant tent setup next to a semi truck painted with bold “M Sport” graphics and the BMW rondel. Parked nearby was the Track Club rig, with a large canopy setup as well. I’d always thought the Track Club guys did it up right, but the BMW factory crew was on a different level. Parked under canopies at the Track Club pit were my GT-R and James’ 918, the cars already lifted, warmers wrapped around both cars’ tires.
I parked by the BMW pit, but first walked over to the Track Club pit to make sure my baby was being properly pampered.
“Hey, Reggie,” I said as I spotted the crew chief. “You guys have coffee going yet?”
“Oh, you know we do!” Reggie said with a laugh. “The coffee pot is the first tool out of the crate.”
We chatted for a few minutes, then Reggie indicated the BMW pit. “So, what’s the story? I thought this was a private track day for your birthday.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, sipping the Kona roast that Reggie claimed was from a private supplier. “My in-laws are doing this for me for my birthday, and my father-in-law owns a string of BMW dealerships. I guess he’s the biggest BMW dealer in France, from what I understand. He knows I’m into it, you know? So they rented the track, and brought the race crew in, and a retired driver to coach me for the day.”
“What is a BMW crew thinking they’re gonna do with a Nissan?” Reggie asked, puzzled.
“I’m not too clear on that myself,” I admitted. “But Emmy just bought me that M6 Competition yesterday, so I guess they can fuss around with that. Since I needed a car with two seats, you know, for the driver guy to ride along.”
“Seems overkill,” Reggie said, scratching his head. “I guess if they want to mess around with the GT-R, I’m O.K. with that, but I want to watch to see what they do.”
“Like you said, I’m sure they’d be lost. I mean, their wrenches probably only fit German cars, right?”
Laughing at that, Reggie and I bumped coffee mugs in a sort of toast.
“Who’s the driver they brought in?” Reggie asked as we watched Stein’s McLaren, now in rose gold chrome wrap, pull up to the BMW tent.
“That’s not the guy,” I said, as Stein got out of his car. “That’s one of my driving buddies.”
“Hey, Leah, you know we’re here all day, right? Yours and James’ cars are already set up, so if you want to tell your buddies they can hit us up for suspension tuning or setup, we’d be glad to do what we can,” Reggie said, eyeing the incredibly tasteless McLaren.
Stein spotted me, and strolled over. “Gonna be hot today,” he said. Then, glancing at the cars in the pit, he said, “Holy fuck, Leah! You never mentioned you had a freaking supercar!”
“I’ve shown you pictures,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, of the GT-R, but not that Porsche! Why have you been driving the Aston, when you could have been rolling in that?”
“That’s not my car. Yet,” I said. “For now, it belongs to my friend James, who came down from the Bay area to drive today.”
“Yet?”
“I made him promise me that I get first dibs if he ever wants to sell it,” I explained.
“Don’t wait too long,” Stein said. “They go up in value like a thousand bucks a day or something like that.”
“Noted,” I said.
“So this is the beast that Jimmy can’t stop talking about,” Stein said, eyeballing the Nissan. “I gotta say, it looks mean as fuck.”
“It is,” I agreed. “It’s a really angry car. It loves to crush major metropolises.”
“Looks it,” Stein agreed. “I’m kinda grateful it’s not street legal- that thing would destroy us all on the Saturday morning drive.”
Just about then Jimmy (with his sister) and Stephen drove up, and parked right by the Track Club pit, where Stein, Reggie and I were standing, looking at the cars.
When the three got out of their cars, I introduced the guys to Reggie and repeated his offer to help with their cars’ setups.
“We’re brand agnostic,” Reggie explained. “We speak Italian, German, Japanese, English, whatever. Come in after you’ve done a few laps and we can look at your settings and make adjustments.”
“That’s awesome, dude!” Jimmy said. “I’ve never touched anything on my car- it’s still at factory settings.”
“To be honest, your Speziale is probably set up pretty well as is, but there’s always a little bit more that can be found. It’s all about matching the car to the driver’s style.”
Pointing at my Nissan, Jimmy asked, “What style is that set up for?”
Glancing at me, Reggie laughed and said, “Crushing major metropolises.”
Emmy had come over while we were chatting, along with a short, thin guy with curly gray hair and a long, straight nose.
“Leah, this is Alain,” she said. “Alain, this is Leah.”
He looked me up and down, exaggerating how high he had to look up. I had nearly a foot on him, and rather than be intimidated, Alain made something of a joke about it, which I appreciated.
“Emmy tells me you speak French, but probably don’t know any of the racing vocabulary, so we’ll stick with English,” he said.
“Thanks, yeah. My four years of college French didn’t really include the words for ‘understeer,’ ‘lift,’ or even ‘shift’,” I admitted.
“That is fine,” Alain said. “Maybe we can work on your vocabulary as we work on your lap times. Emmy showed me the car we’ll be driving together. She said this is your track car?” he asked, pointing at my mean green machine.
“Yeah, that’s my baby,” I said.
“All wheel drive, or is it GT3 spec?”
“GT3,” I said.
“Excellent,” he said with a big smile. “I think we will have fun today.”
When Alain and Emmy walked back to the BMW tent, Reggie just stood there, his mouth open in shock.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, mostly to himself. “Jesus. Nobody back at the shop is gonna believe this. One hundred per cent, I’m getting a selfie today.”
Jimmie and Stein both just looked at each other and shrugged, like ‘whatever’.
“Reggie, if I were to guess, I’d say that what’s gonna happen is I’m going to take the M6 out with Alain for a few laps, working on basic lines. I’ve never driven this track, but I did watch some videos on Youtube, so I think I understand the basic lines.”
“Um, we have a track diagram on the whiteboard, and the lines are down out on it,” Reggie said. “But it’s only nine turns, so you’ll learn it really fast anyway,” Reggie said.
“Yeah, it only seems like a couple of turns are tricky,” I agreed. “But anyway, we’ll do a few laps, maybe ten? I don’t know, in the M6. I want to do a morning timed run in Godzilla, then another at the end of the day to see how my times improve.”
“The tires will be up to temp by the time the track goes hot at eight,” Reggie confirmed. “Any time you want to take it out, it’ll be ready.”
Walking over to the BMW tent, Jimmy asked, “M6?”
“Yeah, Emmy bought me that thing yesterday,” I said, pointing at the orange BMW. “So I’d have a two-seater to drive today.”
“What was wrong with the Vantage?” Stephen asked.
Shrugging, I said, “Not BMW enough, I guess? Emmy’s family owns a bunch of dealerships, so maybe it was important to them that I represent the brand? Your guess is as good as mine.”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Jimmy’s sister was already having breakfast when we found the hospitality area, while Alain, Emmy and some guy in a BMW uniform were drinking coffee and speaking in French.
The rest of us sat down to eat a quick breakfast, as Teddy Bear, James and Justin joined us. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had a hard time figuring out which pit you guys were in. I wish the BMW was a little more prominently displayed,” getting a laugh.
I introduced everybody and mentioned what cars they had so everybody could identify who it was on track, and of course, discussions of the various cars (especially James’ 918) dominated the talk.
As we ate, a representative of the track came in and explained the rules. I’d done plenty of track days before, so I knew the flag etiquette, but some of the others never had and so I still had to hear the whole spiel anyhow. Stephen realized he didn’t have a fire extinguisher in his car, and Jimmy didn’t have a helmet, but those two things were easily sorted out.
By eight Alain and I were suited up so when the green flag waved we were off.
“Take the first lap slow,” Alain said. “We want to see the track.”
I led out a procession, the other drivers falling into line behind me. I did as Alain said, and he talked me through the various track features as we progressed.
“Look at this turn,” he said. “It seems to go on forever without change, but notice that right here, the camber changes- it goes from a positive bank to level,” he said. “This is hardly a turn, but it’s over a crest, so you’ll want to set up early,” and “That dip right at the apex will upset the car as speeds increase, so you’ll want to stay wide and late apex here.”
Sure, I’d figure all that stuff out on my own eventually, but Alain’s eye for the track was well beyond my abilities. I could see what he was pointing out, and how it would affect my lines, but on my own I would have simply fumbled through and gotten my lines dialed by trial and error.
Each lap we picked up a bit of speed, and Alain continued talking about track features, but then started adding in driving directions after a few laps. “Here, you will want to start your braking. This turn looks sharp, but it is very wide, even though it doesn't seem it, so brake at maximum here, but no earlier. You’ll want to take this turn at a hundred and fifty or so.” Of course, he was talking kilometers per hour, but that seemed pretty high for what was, in effect, a ninety degree turn. I did as he said, though, and pretty soon we were flying at a really good clip around those nine turns.
Stein had passed us a few laps earlier and he was off doing his own thing. I knew that he’d driven Willow Springs a fair number of times, so his track knowledge, and the fact he was driving a McLaren 570 gave him the ability to roll past Alain and I in the M6 with ease.
We did maybe fifteen laps or so, until Alain thought I had a good basic feel for the course. Now, he’d never been to Willow Springs, either, but his ability to read the track was almost unbelievably good, so I paid very, very close attention to everything he said, and by the time we rolled back into the pits I was feeling pretty good about things. I’d felt as if I’d gotten a bit of a feel for the limits of that big BMW coupe, too. Yeah, it handled better than I had expected, given the size and weight, and had pretty good power, too, but honestly, it wasn’t up to the level of my little old Aston Martin. Of course, I’d had that thing massaged quite a bit, and this was as-delivered…
When we got out of the car, Alain spoke to the BMW crew chief in French, and within moments the car was rolled away for some adjustments.
“Leah, you should do some timed laps in your Nissan now,” Alain said. "Do a few laps at a comfortable speed, then do a few at the limit, and we will see how you do.”
“Time to get busy,” I told Reggie as I strolled up to the Track Club pit. “Alain wants me to do a timed run.”
The first lap in the GT-R felt so slow, even though I was going faster than I had been in the coupe. That’s just the reality of a road car vs a race car, after all. Soon enough I spotted that ridiculous pink chrome McLaren of Stein’s up ahead, and then it was ‘game on’ and time to put Godzilla to work. I passed him by late apexing turn one and cutting inside his line, then powered into turn two at warp speed. Heading up the hill to turn four, I couldn’t even see that pink car in my mirrors, I’d blown by him so hard. Cresting turn six, I spotted a clump of cars up ahead and stayed hard on the accelerator, passing Stephen, Justin and Teddy Bear around the outside of turn eight, staying way wide before diving into nine and up the straight, the back end clawing for traction on the marbles. Jimmy was my next victim. I passed him as he got on the brakes at the end of the straight. I had a clear lap after that, so I stayed focused and kept my lines tidy, pushing that car as hard as I could.
After two good laps, I pulled in to the Track Club pit for the telemetry download.
Alain looked at the data and said, “See this? Your braking trace on turn one? You’re on the brakes, then let off a little bit, then back on again. This tells me you got in, and then realized you were going too slow. So brake later, eh? Brake later, and harder.” He went on, analyzing the data on Reggie’s laptop, showing me where I was losing time compared to a virtual perfect lap, made up of my best runs through each segment.
While we were looking at the info, Emmy came over and shared a look with Alain.
“Alright,” Alain said. “Now, it is time for your birthday present, from Monsieur de Lascaux.”
Puzzled, I followed him and Emmy back to the BMW pit, where they led me to an area I hadn’t noticed before.
“Happy birthday!” Emmy said, as I laid eyes on a pristine, flawless new BMW M6 race car.
“It is next year’s GT3 car,” Alain said.
“Seriously?” I asked, running my hands over the arctic white car with the M blue, red and indigo accents.
“This is why the race crew is here,” Emmy said. “To set your new car up just right.”
“This is amazing,” I said, thinking it was too pretty to get dirty out on the course.
“It is ready for you to take out," the crew chief said. “The tires and engine are warm. Go ahead and take it for its very first laps.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” I said, climbing in. The crew chief showed me how to adjust the wheel and pedals to fit me, since in a race car, the seat is bolted in place and the controls adjust instead.
I pulled out of the tent and onto the hot pit lane, marveling at how very different it felt than my familiar green monster. It felt huge, even though it really was only a few inches longer and no wider than the Nissan, which wasn’t a small car. I think it had more to do with the size and shape of the windshield, and how much farther away it seemed.
The track worker waved me onto the track, so I gave it some gas and let it run. The sound was very different than I was used to, and the sensations through the wheel and seat were disconcerting, too. All in all, I felt awkward and uncomfortable, so my speeds were much lower than they’d been in the GT-R, but still higher than I’d managed in the coupe.
Things started to come together after a few laps, and my shift and brake points realigned to the new car. The BMW felt slow compared to the Nissan, but I knew that most of that was simply in my head. The lap timer showed I was only a few seconds off my best lap in the GT-R, after all.
After maybe a dozen laps I pulled the car back in and the crew immediately went to work, downloading the data and using that to adjust the car’s settings.
“What do you think?” Emmy asked, excited.
I couldn’t very well tell her that it felt slow and heavy compared to the car I already had, so I said, “I’ve gotten so used to Godzilla, this thing is going to take me some time- it’s much more different than you’d expect.”
Alain said, “After lunch, you and I should go out in the two cars and play follow the leader.”
“I might be ready for that by then,” I said. “You want to take the Nissan out for a few laps?”
“But of course!” Alain said, his face lighting up. “I’ve never had the chance to drive one before.”
“Do you not like the new car?” Emmy asked, concerned.
“No, I love it,” I said, but that wasn’t really true. “I’m just not used to it yet. I’ve put in so many laps in Godzilla, and it’s set up just the way I like it. This car needs some adjustments, and I need to figure out how to drive it, that’s all.”
A few of the guys had found their way to where we were talking by this point.
“Damn, dude!” Jimmy said. “Earlier, when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw an up close and very personal view of the front of your GT-R I just about shit myself!”
“Damn, that’s no lie,” said Teddy Bear. “I didn’t even know you were there until you ripped past on the outside on eight, then bombed into nine so fast it made my head spin.”
“I told you guys,” James said, shaking his head. “But you didn’t listen.”
“So, am I correct in guessing that your real birthday present is that BMW racer?” Stein asked, watching the mechanics adjust the suspension according to the feedback from my first few laps.
“Yeah,” I said, still amazed. “I didn’t know about the car- Emmy didn’t mention it at all.”
“I wish I had in-laws like that,” Stein said.
“You aren’t even married,” Teddy Bear objected.
“So what you’re saying is that there’s still time,” Stein said with a laugh.
After the mechanics finished, I took the car out for some more track time. It felt a lot better, and within a lap my time had improved. The car gripped the track better and got much stronger drive out of the corners as a result. In fact, after a half dozen laps or so, I had to admit it was easier on exit than my Nissan. The BMW didn’t have the outright power the Nissan did, but that was outside of GT3 spec limits anyway, so of course it didn’t. But it hooked up better, allowing me to accelerate harder, since I wasn’t as concerned about managing rear traction.
It occurred to me that maybe I was feeling the benefits of some really high tech wheelspin nannies, so I thought that maybe some back-to-back laps in the two cars with traction control turned off might be instructive.
When I brought the car back in after that second session, I asked about the TC. The chief showed me the driver controls for the TC and ABS, saying, “You really won’t want them shut off entirely. Dial them back down, sure, but if you turn them all the way off, the car becomes a lot to handle.”
When Alain came back into the pits in the Nissan, I asked him about his impressions.
“It is a madman’s car,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “It is so loose, so powerful, so heavy! I haven’t had that much fun in a car in a long time.”
“Powerful?” I asked.
“It has more power than the Formula One car I raced,” he said. “More power everywhere, but it’s a lot heavier, and doesn’t have as much downforce, so it breaks the wheels loose every time I step on the throttle.”
“Yeah, that was a question I had for you,” I said. “I have the TC turned off in the GT-R, but in the BMW it feels like it’s slowing me down, even though it’s keeping everything in line.”
“Yes, that is what it does,” Alain agreed. “If that is what you are used to, try the BMW with no aids.”
“Wait- you mean Leah’s been driving the GT-R with the traction control turned off?” James asked. “Was it turned off when I drove it?”
“Well, yeah,” I said.
“Can I drive it again, but this time with it turned back on?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “If Alain is done with it for a while. Get Reggie to set it up for you.”
I went out again in the BMW, and it was a lot more fun being able to steer with the gas the way I was used to in the GT-R, and the brakes felt much more immediate without the ABS keeping me from getting too aggressive on the binders. All in all, it was much more engaging- but the lap timer told me the truth, and that I was a little slower letting the BMW loose like that. I bumped the TC up a bit every lap until it started to slow me down again, then backed it off two clicks, which seemed the best compromise between fast and controlled, but still a little bit fun.
Finally bringing the car back into the pit, I looked for Alain but he was out on the track, driving Jimmy’s 458. I did bump into Stein, though. He was taking advantage of Reggie’s offer and having his shiny pink McLaren’s steering adjusted.
“Hey, Leah,” he said as I walked up. “You were damned fast out there. I mean, really, really fast.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“So what are you going to do with your Nissan, now you’ve got the BMW?”
“That’s a good question,” I replied. “At this point, I still like Godzilla better, you know? But I’ve had a bunch of work done on it, you know, and it’s set up just the way I like it. The BMW is brand new and I’m not used to it yet, and it just has the spec motor settings for a GT3 car- right around six hundred horsepower, nowhere near what I’ve had the GT-R set at.”
“What do you mean? How much power are you getting in that thing?” Stein asked, surprised.
“I had it built up at eight hundred and seventy-five, but it was too peaky. Right now it’s running around seven hundred forty,” I said.
“That’s almost two hundred more than my McLaren,” Stein said. “No wonder you were dropping me like a bad habit out there.”
“Well, that, and the fact you brake like a pussy,” I said with a laugh.
Teddy Bear and Stephen had joined us by this time. “She’s got you there, brother,” laughed Teddy Bear.
“Yeah, no need to rub it in,” Stein said, not taking offense. “But I couldn’t help notice she tore the doors off your Corvette every time she lapped you, too.”
“Dude, my car is gonna have PTSD every time it sees a green Nissan on the road,” Teddy Bear said with a laugh. “It wet itself the first time she came flying by on the outside, sideways, shredding tire rubber like it was going out of style.”
“No freaking lie,” Stephen agreed. “No lie. Leah, when you said you had a GT-R race car, to be honest, I thought it was maybe something you, I don’t know, just, you know, drove around a track every once in a while. I had no idea you had a pit crew, or that you drove that car like a freaking maniac.”
“Man, I know I told you that this morning,” James said. “I specifically said to all you guys that Leah is a psychopath with a death wish and a serious adrenaline habit.”
“It’s one thing hearing it,” Stephen said. "Another seeing it up close and personal."