Subject: A self fulfilling prophecy
Date: Fri, 25 May 2001 10:32:33 EDT

Peter asks, "Who wants to slee......" I WILL!! I reply before anyone else. Their basement is what I aspire my whole house to be! Although there are some things in common. They have a hole in the floor to practice putting, I have a hole in the wall caused by my son.

The main meal dies down and we gather in the kitchen. Peter is telling a story about a person who lives down the road from them that has a really nice house....and before he can continue, I pipe in and say (with a smirk and smile on my face), "Ya, unlike the dump you have here!" This catches Peter by surprise and his conversation momentarily stops (he obviously doesn't realize I'm joking). I, having forgot that our hosts don't know me or my style of humor, have made another blunder in the face of etiquette. I shake my hands back and forth and with an apologetic look on my face say, "Never mind."

Hello All:
Trying to schedule track dates has not been easy to say the least. As it stands now, I will be spending most of June at FT. Campbell, July at FT. Hood, and half of August at FT Drum. So to be able to run Watkins Glen last weekend was a treat. Through coordination; Peter Mills, Larry Bastanza and myself, reserved dates with Trackmasters for the 12-13 May weekend. Larry and I for the novice group, Peter for the intermediate group. Pete suggested we meet at the Friendly's restaurant in Scranton, PA off exit 52 of I-81. Looking at a road map while we were talking, his description of coming off I-84 and proceeding north to exit 52 didn't make sense as the exit was south of the intersection. He thought that with the construction the exits may have been renumbered and was sure that his directions were correct. I researched the issue with a map program and found a Friendly's at exit 55 and 58, but nothing at 52. He called me later saying that he had spoken with a woman at Friendly's and she confirmed it was exit 52.

(Friday)

The plan was for Pete to drive to Larry's and upon arrival, give me a call which would be the signal for me to start on the road to join up with them in Scranton. Things were going like clockwork. As I approached Scranton I turned on the club radio (the cell phone was already on) and waited for a transmission to crackle the airwaves. The cell phone rang. It was Larry! "Larry, Pete and I took a road that put us north of exit 52." (the transmission was broken by the digital signal going on and off) "We are at exit 59." "Are you going to stay there or come south to exit 52?" I replied. (Silence) "Hello, hello?" Drat, the signal is lost. I was one mile before exit 52, so I decided to get off and wait for further instructions. I didn't see a Friendly's, so I pulled off the road and waited for a call. Nothing was happening so I called Larry's cell, but only got his voice mail, so I left a message. A little later, I got a voice mail alert. It was Larry explaining where they were, but no indication as to what their intentions were. I decided to head up to exit 59 and try to find them. My concern was that we would pass each other on the road. Then I would be at exit 59, with them at exit 52. With two communication devices at my disposal, I alternated calls as I proceed north. I kind of felt like SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) sending a call into space and hoping for a signal from intelligent life. There was no response, intelligent or otherwise. Near exit 55, there was a billboard sign indicating there was a Friendly's at exit 55 and 58 (let's see Pete talk his way out of this one). As I approached exit 59, Larry reached me on my cell and stated that they were at a gas station and would wait there. As I got off the exit, the club radio came alive asking if I could see them? I gave an affirmative answer.
After hearty handshakes, I said, "Well Pete, I didn't see a Friendly's at 52, but there is one at EXIT 55 and 58. Shall we go to exit 58?" Well, Pete starts to tap dance about how he got bad information and so forth; all I wanted to do was eat, I'm starving. Nope Pete wants to continue north and eat later. Not wanting to seem too wussy, I agree. Not long after our departure, we run into stop & go traffic due to construction. Going no where fast, and seeing a sign up ahead that states that the construction is still two miles ahead, I suggest we get off at the next exit and find an alternative route. We all agree, exit, and proceed on a state route until rejoining I-81. Saving face, Pete finds a Friendly's off exit 52 (in the wrong state!!, but nevertheless, off exit 52). We maneuver into the proper lane to get to the restaurant. The light turns green, Pete goes first crossing oncoming traffic, with Larry close behind. A long blast comes from the horn of an irate motorist that has to slow so as not to hit Larry. I cross at the proper time, pull into the parking lot, and ask Larry if he's trying to piss off the locals. He doesn't seem to know what I'm getting at. After a good meal (with a Happy Endings Sunday I might add) we strike off. The departure from the parking lot was a repeat of the entrance. Pete first, Larry pissing off oncoming traffic, followed by me. With other cars in between us (now dark) I can't see where Pete/Larry are, but I know I'm on the right road, cause I can hear Larry's RM exhaust. I finally catch up, and Pete skillfully leads us to Sylvia's sisters house.
Pete had arranged for us to stay as guests at the in-laws, but we should bring a sleeping bag as Larry and I would probably sleep down cellar. We pull into their driveway, start to unload, and Peter (not to be confused with our own speedy hero who will be addressed as Pete) and Linda Jackson come out to greet us. After introductions we carry are stuff inside. I have a smirk on my face as I look at their gorgeous home. Yup, my observations are confirmed. I'm a puppy running with the big dogs of success.

(side note for new story people)
I come from a rural town in Maine. In fact, not far from where Poland Spring water is bottled. I grew up in an old two story house, that in my later years, Dad made enough money to put in a forced air furnace. The closest thing to rich people that we associated with were doctors who presented that us and them type attitude. Years pass. I feel I've become successful; at the top of my military rank; finally can afford a used NSX, and with some anxiety, join the Northeast chapter of NSXCA. I'm positive I'll be the "black sheep" of the group, and will be lucky if anyone talks to me. My first event revealed the truth to the old Honda motorcycle slogan: You meet the nicest people on (or in our case, in) a Honda. Unlike the people I grew up around, this organization has some high class people. And I'm not talking about financial status (although it makes me snicker wondering where I went wrong), I talking about friendly, sincere, thoughtful people that make you feel warm inside. Our hosts tonight are no exception.

I follow Peter Jackson downstairs and view a finished basement that has a big screen TV, multiple exercise machines, a pool table, a bar, a private bath, and a sleeper sofa that faces the large glass windows that overlooks Keuka (?) lake and a college on the far shore. Peter asks, "Who wants to slee......" I WILL!! I reply before anyone else. Their basement is what I aspire my whole house to be! Although there are some things in common. They have a hole in the floor to practice putting, I have a hole in the wall caused by my son. We settle into our respective rooms and then gather in the kitchen waiting the arrival of Sylvia and their son Jeremy who are traveling together. A little cheese and wine are relaxing as we converse with the Jackson's.

(Saturday)

Morning arrives at O'dark thirty. Linda operates like Santa Claus. There wasn't any breakfast on the table when I went to bed, but by morning; there is hot coffee and pastries awaiting us, without a sign of this magical person who prepared them. Pete
remarks about a nightmare he had; looking in his rear view mirror and seeing me charging up from behind. He laughs, as this is an event that will not take place as we are in different skill level groups. Remember, it's the Larry and Larry show in the novice run group, and the skillful speedy Pete in the intermediate group. We depart as stealthy as we can so as not to wake the neighbors while enroute to Watkins Glen International.
Trackmasters is hosting the school. Due to being a weekend event, Trackmasters has enrolled a larger than normal group to defray the costs associated with renting the track on a weekend. Each day will have three 30 minute runs (for each group) along with ground school. We park our cars out in front of the garage, I pitch my tent (as it is raining), unload the cars, and go in to register. During the driver's meeting for the open track people, it was stated that everyone who parked out front of the garage between the "cones" will have to move their vehicles. OK...... load everything back into the cars, move the cars on the other side of the cones, relocate the tent, unload the cars, and go back inside. Then the official word comes.......... All cars out front have to be moved; even the ones outside of the cones. (Sigh) Load up the cars, find a new spot in the back forty, drag the tent to the new spot, unload the cars, and...HOLY SMOKE Batman, Larry and I are late for class!!
We run to the classroom, which is filled, and try to find a place to sit. I sit on the instructors desk; Larry stands by the door (the instructor checks our names off). After an introductory class about the sequence of events, meaning of different flags, and a little car dynamics; it is time to line up the cars and wait for our instructors.
We were told the windows would be down (even though it was raining) and if we had a problem with that..... (I know, don't go on the track). The rain lets up a bit and our instructors will be driving our cars first (under yellow flag conditions) to get a feel for the vehicle. After a few laps, we swap seats, and we drive (under yellow) to get acclimated to the track. This session is over, and we return for classroom instruction before breaking for lunch. Pete will be out on the track so Larry an I decide to pick up a sandwich for him. I hop into Larry's car and we head in town to get food. We stop at a Subway, place our order, and then as I reach for my wallet......... I realize I left it in the tent. Lucky for me, Larry is better prepared and has enough money to cover the order (thanks Larry). The sandwich is big, so I decide to save half for tomorrow. Pete joins us and we finish lunch together.
The second session finds Larry lined up in front of me. After a few laps around the track to heat up tires and brakes, I find myself hot on Larry's tail. I'm keeping back a seemingly reasonable distance but my instructor says, "Move up on him; fill up his rear view mirror; if you don't, he won't know you want to pass!" OK, I can do that :-)) We're on the back straight, I'm close to his bumper doing about 100 mph, and I see Larry's instructor start looking out the back window. Before long, Larry's gives me the "point by" authorizing me to pass. I accelerate by, give a thank you wave, then watch Larry fade into the sunset as we continue the instruction. After we finish the session, Larry and I remark about having fun, and then I throw in my needling comment about Larry holding me up. In Larry's defense; after ground looping his vehicle avoiding an animal; having the car in the shop for 6 months; to say the least, he is being cautious.
More ground school. The instructor is quizzing us on the meaning of the different colored flags. He is asking what a "Blue Flag" means. I am wanting to answer that one with the flare of the infamous "Little Johnny jokes." I am wanting to say, "That is to let Larry know that I am behind him and he needs to point me by." (but I'm not called upon) Another time the instructor asks what a "White Flag" means. Again I am starting to bounce like a kid that has to go to the bathroom. "That one is for me to let me know that Larry is just around the corner," but again I'm not called upon. Class is over and it's time to get our cars ready. Larry, in an effort to avoid further comments from me, tries to insure that I will be in front of him from the start. As luck would have it, we're late for the line up. Larry heads off first; I line up two cars behind him. After the, "heat up the tires lap," I find myself passing the two cars in between and once again, I'm hot on Larry's tail. Again his instructor tells him to give me the point-by. Larry, letting his instructor know that this point-by will cause him (Larry) to suffer when he gets back to the pits, complies. Again being the true sportsman that I am, I wave a thank you, as I accelerate by (with a smirk on my face). Towards the end of the session, low and behold, there is Larry in front of me again!! I don't know how I caught up to him (his instructor may have pitted to let slow traffic go by) but who cares..... I get to pass him again!!!! My instructor is getting a little anxious (not knowing my intentions) as I do my best to quickly charge up to Larry (before the session ends) and try to put my front bumper in his trunk (just so he knows I want to pass :-)) His instructor looking out the back window again instructs Larry to let me by. Larry is doing his best not to let this happen, for he knows it will cost him big time. In spite of knowing what will come once we get to the pits, he points me by. As the session ends and I'm recapping the event to Pete and Larry, Larry comments on my innate ability to throw salt into open wounds. I smile, try to be humble, and say, "Yes, it does come easy for me." Pete is realizing just how lucky he is having me in Larry's group and not his.
The day is over, and like good circus people, we quickly pack up the tent and head out. During the drive back, Pete is in the lead, followed by Larry, with myself taking up the rear. We get to a four lane section of road, and I can't resist. I pull up along side of Larry about to pass him, and when he looks, I put my finger up to my lips while saying oops, give him an apology sign with my hand, expressing that I forgot we were not on the track and I didn't mean to pass him.........AGAIN......and drop back in line. (I think Larry wants to give me the, I'm NUMBER ONE signal)

The evening meal has been preprepared (that isn't a word is it?) by Larry while he was home and transported the food with him. Other dishes have been provided by our hosts with Sylvia's help. The meal is excellent (Larry does know how to cook), the company even better and once again I am thankful to be part of such a wonderful group. The main meal dies down and we gather in the kitchen. Peter is telling a story about a person who lives down the road from them that has a really nice house....and before he can continue, I pipe in and say (with a smirk and smile on my face), "Ya, unlike the dump you have here!" This catches Peter by surprise and his conversation momentarily stops (he obviously doesn't realize I'm joking). I, having forgot that our hosts don't know me or my style of humor, have made another blunder in the face of etiquette. I shake my hands back and forth and with an apologetic look on my face say, "Never mind." Pete remarks about how his instructor said, "NO Bragging, and lay off the alcohol!" Well, 0 out of two ain't too bad. Is it? Although I have had enough to drink, my glass is filled again (an evil plot I fear from Bastanza) and being cordial I polish off the glass. (Larry did bring good wine) I want to retire early, so I can pretend to drive the track while looking at the map. I have been lost most of the time on the track. That is, Pete and Larry are talking about different numbered turns, and I have no idea where they are. Pete tells that after he completes turn two; it's full throttle through the next two turns (the Esses) until braking for the "bus top." (I would have said chicane, but I didn't know how to spell it) I said, "Maybe you can do it Pete, maybe my car can do it, but right now for me; it's (shaking my head with a scared look) nooooooo.
Pete heads for bed, Larry and I talk for a while with Peter, and after saying goodnight to the ladies, we head for bed.
Looking at my cell phone, I notice that Craig tried to call me; so I go back upstairs (in order to get a strong signal) talk with Craig, and on the way by the study, Sylvia calls my name.

[NOTE: Sylvia and I have the ability to carry on long conversations. I remember one time when Pete had gone to bed, Syl and I talked into the wee hours of the morning (not an unusual occurrence). The next day I told Pete, "Ya know, I didn't get much sleep; Sylvia kept me talking all night." Pete said, "I know, Sylvia said; don't you ever go to bed and leave me alone with Larry; he kept me up all night!" :-)))]

Syl and Linda are showing me pictures and memorabilia from Bob's Lake (a place we hope to visit this fall) I'm finding it all very interesting but realize I shouldn't stay up as late as I would like to, for I have get some sleep. I'm bushed. (could this event be another evil plot orchestrated by Bastanza?)

All right, time to get Pete out of hot water. I know Sylvia has been mulling my previous comment, (Pete goes full throttle through the Esses). Sylvia worries about Pete, although I feel somewhat needlessly. Pete is a conscientious driver and stays within his abilities. So even though it may sound fast Syl, it's well within Pete's and the car's abilities.

(Sunday)

Santa left breakfast again. How come that doesn't happen at my house? Today looks like it will be a sunny day. Larry and I are familiar with the drill. The tent is set up, cars unloaded, and we are off for class. Our class is joined by new comers. After a brief talk from the head instructor, he dismisses us, and talks to the greenhorns. That was pretty short, but what else is there to know? Drive fast and pass Larry. Well, it was easy to see that the evil plot conniving Bastanza rigged it so that I was in front of him. I could see he was out for revenge. I had thought about leaving a roll of toilet paper on my passengers seat so that when the instructor got in I could tell him, "I was up all night practicing driving the track, I think I've got it!" and handing him the roll of paper, "Here, you might need this." Because Trackmasters didn't want anything in the cars, I aborted the idea.
The track is clear and we head out. I find my Yokos do not stick that well until heated up by a lap of semi aggressive driving. As we go around curves (not as fast as we did the day before) my tires are squealing. The instructor asks if those are my tires making the noise? I tell him I not sure because of close traffic, lets see what happens at the next turn. Sure enough, they're mine and Larry is hot on my tail. I am hoping my instructor doesn't notice him there. Because I don't want to suffer the same type of humiliation he received the day before from me. (the old, what goes around comes around stuff) I decide that if he is still on my tail after the next set of turns, I will point him by on the next straight. I look into my mirror and notice he has backed off a little after the last turn. With my tires now heated up, my NSX is locked, cocked, and ready to rock! It's full throttle baby, and Larry's car once again starts to get smaller in my mirror. I call it the ever shrinking Larry. Which is too bad, because he is already shor...... OK, enough with the "S" jokes.
I'm doing a little better, but I'm still not sure of the lines my instructor is trying to get me to drive. The end of the session has me a little frustrated because of the line uncertainty. After the session (Larry's doing better, because I didn't catch up to him) Larry and I go into a trailer of a photographer that has been taking pictures of everyone at the track. I see a few I want so I place my order. We look at the ones he took of Larry. One of the shots reveals that not only did Larry miss the apex, but he missed it by a car and a half wide! This was brought to our attention by the person showing the different shots. She said, "I can tell he is real wide because he isn't even on the wide concrete patch next to the apex." I start to laugh, "Don't you have Photo Shop 5? You could move him or the cone closer together" :-)) Larry even comments on the expression of his instructor. He is twisted a little sideways in his seat leaning and facing the cone with an expression as if to say, "That orange thing way over there is the thing you're supposed to be next to!"
We head for class, again dismissed early. My instructor wants to take me out in his car to show me the proper lines. He has a Porsche. His car is a little tail happy, but his brakes are fabulous!! It makes mine seem like bicycle brakes. He forgot to bring his intercom, so the ride is mostly silent of conversation. Towards the end of the session, I started to get a little motion sick, so I was glad it was over.
It always amuses me how I sometimes get motion sickness as a passenger. Doesn't make any difference if I'm flying or driving. Higher "G" maneuvers caused by turbulence or a twisty road, can bother me. The amusing part is that, if I take the controls when flying or switch to driving, it goes away?! I tell him I'm going to check my brakes and see their condition. The inspection of my brakes (which have been chattering moderately under heavy braking) show considerable wear. These are my OEM brake pads that I have had since I bought the car over a year and a half ago. I have driven over 30,000 miles, run one day at Summit point, two days at Road Atlanta, been on several NSX runs, and still had over half a pad left before Watkins Glen. I am hesitant to change them in between sessions, but with the extra time from lunch, I decide to try it. The front pads have worn to about 1/8 of an inch and I don't think they will last two more sessions. I tell Larry and Pete I am going to change them, I have the other half of my sandwich, so I will eat as I work. They head off for some food; I start to work. The change out is going well, I have all the tools needed, and nothing odd is happening. With new pads in, I still have about 20 min before line up. I take my Mt. Dew and drive up and down the road trying to get the new pads somewhat broken in before the next session. I'm hoping the progressive stops I'm making will help. I tell the instructor of the brake change, so he suggests we let everyone get ahead of us and then go out so that I can take it easy on the brakes. They still are chattering, but I find that if I apply pressure early for about one and a half seconds, then progressively squeeze; the vibration is less or nil. The instructor is commenting on how much I have improved over the weekend and that if I do as well on the next time out, he will advance me into the intermediate group. Although I am passing most of the cars, I am leery that he will not be able to do as planned. I have read on Trackmasters web site, that "novice drivers" are people with less than 6 track sessions. With only one previous day of formal instruction before the Glen, I'd say I'd qualify as a novice. I do not tell my compadres what my instructor plans to do. While waiting for the next and final session for novice drivers, I check the torque on the wheels. All nuts on both front wheels are about a quarter turn loose. I wonder if there is a difference between torque on cold wheels and wheels that are hot from track use? I torque them again.
The final session goes well, I am aware of the flagging stations, I am cognizant of traffic, and I am developing a smooth control touch. My instructor is pleased, so he states he will promote me to the intermediate group. I feel good. Back at our tent, Larry has already started to load stuff into his car. I tell him I can't yet. "Why not?" he asks. "Because I'm going to make a run in the intermediate class," I reply with a smile on my face. I tell him what transpired, and that I can't wait to see the expression on Pete's face when I pull up beside him. I am parked next to him, but he doesn't look in my direction. It seems as if he is purposely trying not to look, I think Larry got to him (Pete claims he didn't) My instructor was in the run group before, so he shows up just as the last car pulls out. I cool it for the first tire heat up lap, and then get back in form. I pass a couple of cars and notice a turbo RX7 and a Viper hot on my tail. I point them by and then I pass a couple more cars before the session is over. The session is held up because a BMW went into the tire wall. I come off the track feeling good. I passed some, some passed me. I think this intermediate group was a good fit for my abilities.
Larry improved, had a good time, and is looking forward to his next event. Pete always does well unless he is competing against an F-150 :-) For me it was a good and welcomed weekend. It was much needed relaxation.
I stuck around waiting for the pictures that I ordered, bought a T-shirt to inspire Larry and Pete that reads, "Life's too short to suck!", and other collectibles.
Pete and Larry head for NY. On the return trip, it seems like old times. Two deer run from across the road and stop right in front of me. I come to a complete stop while they decide if they should jump over me or the fence beside the road. I'm getting luckier; they chose the fence

Oh yes; I didn't see Pete on the track, so I guess it wasn't a self fulfilling prophecy after all (Pete never saw me in his mirrors charging up to his bumper). Next time Pete, beware. Pete tells me I will never be faster than him (he does many driving schools). I say, "Seems like you told me that at Road Atlanta!" ( I was 20 seconds faster) :-)
The slacker from PA