Post by JABowders on Mar 15, 2010 8:07:31 GMT -5
Red Weasel Racing Reports
Mid Ohio Bagging Rights Series (BRS)
Well the teams return to Mid Ohio for what was an eventful race, and for the Red Weasel Racing Team it would be a race filled with both elation and desolation. The Red Weasels took to the track and with the same setup the Head Weasel was decidable faster than the Weasel Wench. With a little back seat coaching she would pick up her race pace but would not come close to the ragged edge the Head Weasel would push the Aston Martin DBR9.
It looked like a fair mix for the top spot with of a pair of Corvettes driven by Sandy and Jeff to the pair of DBRs driven by Pat and James. But it would be the Corvettes that would take the early lead. As the two fought over the top spot I watched as they got a little chummy while Pat followed behind me. Then into T3 a bump, a push and a spin and The Head Weasel was standing on the breaks to avoid being reeled into the cloud of smoke that was swallowing up the two Vettes, only to dive for the curb and loop the backend around avoiding the mess sending the 92 off track and into the grass, coming to rest with a great view of the entrance to T3. Re-firing the engine the Head Weasel watched as the parade of cars screamed past. Pat took advantage of the mishap and undoubtedly was laughing manically as he romped to the lead.
Pulling back onto track now at the active tail end of the train, the Head Weasel was on a mission, and drove his DBR9 back to the ragged edge, balanced on what can be described as marbles, lap after lap the Red Weasel Racing Aston was slicing away the deficit and would again find himself only feet away from the rear bumper of Jeff’s Corvette, then the magnetic attraction of Fiber Glass and Carbon Fiber would gather the two up again, Jeff hit the crest of T7 a little out of shape and lost the backend just enough to spin across the track bringing the his Detroit behemoth to a stop saving it from damage from careening against the walls, unfortunately the nanosecond of relief was displaced as the following Weasel Juice powered rocket T-boned Jeff as he gathered his thoughts.
The Red Weasel Team Radio instantly was alive with a mix of topics in the conversation, first a description of what just happened, and an estimation of damage suffered by the contact, and the beginnings of a conspiracy for retaliatory actions…I won’t go into detail but it may have involved a tire-iron and a drivers knee…but this was decided that it was to much effort, and the Team is beyond such types of reactions. Mister Jerry Rig on the other hand suggested he would just get him drunk and then take photos of him in compromising positions with a Yugo.
The Head Weasel’s car was hurt bad, and had to go for the pits the Red Weasel Race Team Pit Crew was ready with the War Wagon, preparing a new Front Clip and four fresh tires the pressure was on. As fast as they could peal tape the Team had eaten away what would equate to over half a lap of time repairing the damage but would get the Head Weasel back out on track still in front of the Leader, just barely but nonetheless they did their job. It was up the mad man himself, the first lap out allowing the tires to come up to temperature and get as sticky as they can, Pat now leading the race was closing in on some Weasel Tail, it was time to go or go home and the hammer came down, another fast lap was set as Pat filled the rearview mirror then with a couple of smooth laps the gap opened and it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the field would have to pit.
It was about this time that the Weasel Wench found herself leading the way, this first time thrill would last only two laps but elating and exciting her to new heights and like many notable events in life ending way to fast.
Lap after lap, Pat was relentless gaining a few seconds then advantage to the Head Weasel as he fought to stay ahead of the leader. Then the 30 minute announcement came across the radio and drivers were starting their scheduled stops. Pushing the limit and as drivers pitted the Head Weasel reclaimed spots and after the cycle he was back in contention but there was still a big gap that would have to be made up. Lap after lap, smooth and fast the 92 moves back into P3 and is starting to catch P2, but would it be enough.
Still heavy on fuel and tires well beyond the desired race limit he pushed on trying desperately to reclaim the Fast Lap, just recently taken by Pat by what looked like 0.2 of a second. But with only three laps to go and tires worn and on the verge of failure the goal was out of reach, then P2 was gone…Questioning the team on what happened Pat apparently bobbled and tank slapped a wall, the 92 had weaseled his way back up to P2 after twice being relegated to the rear of the field with large time deficits to make up.
And at the checkers it was a bitter sweet celebration to go though all that they experienced and yet to still soldier on and find they would occupy the second step of the podium, leaving the team to wonder if things had been just slightly different they go away knowing they had the car to beat.
So as we pack the Trailer and discuss the trials and tribulations of the event the last I saw of Mister Rig, he had a large bottle of Weasel Juice in one hand on a camera in the other and he was heading for Jeff’s camper…
See you next time.
James
Head Weasel
Mid Ohio Bagging Rights Series (BRS)
Well the teams return to Mid Ohio for what was an eventful race, and for the Red Weasel Racing Team it would be a race filled with both elation and desolation. The Red Weasels took to the track and with the same setup the Head Weasel was decidable faster than the Weasel Wench. With a little back seat coaching she would pick up her race pace but would not come close to the ragged edge the Head Weasel would push the Aston Martin DBR9.
It looked like a fair mix for the top spot with of a pair of Corvettes driven by Sandy and Jeff to the pair of DBRs driven by Pat and James. But it would be the Corvettes that would take the early lead. As the two fought over the top spot I watched as they got a little chummy while Pat followed behind me. Then into T3 a bump, a push and a spin and The Head Weasel was standing on the breaks to avoid being reeled into the cloud of smoke that was swallowing up the two Vettes, only to dive for the curb and loop the backend around avoiding the mess sending the 92 off track and into the grass, coming to rest with a great view of the entrance to T3. Re-firing the engine the Head Weasel watched as the parade of cars screamed past. Pat took advantage of the mishap and undoubtedly was laughing manically as he romped to the lead.
Pulling back onto track now at the active tail end of the train, the Head Weasel was on a mission, and drove his DBR9 back to the ragged edge, balanced on what can be described as marbles, lap after lap the Red Weasel Racing Aston was slicing away the deficit and would again find himself only feet away from the rear bumper of Jeff’s Corvette, then the magnetic attraction of Fiber Glass and Carbon Fiber would gather the two up again, Jeff hit the crest of T7 a little out of shape and lost the backend just enough to spin across the track bringing the his Detroit behemoth to a stop saving it from damage from careening against the walls, unfortunately the nanosecond of relief was displaced as the following Weasel Juice powered rocket T-boned Jeff as he gathered his thoughts.
The Red Weasel Team Radio instantly was alive with a mix of topics in the conversation, first a description of what just happened, and an estimation of damage suffered by the contact, and the beginnings of a conspiracy for retaliatory actions…I won’t go into detail but it may have involved a tire-iron and a drivers knee…but this was decided that it was to much effort, and the Team is beyond such types of reactions. Mister Jerry Rig on the other hand suggested he would just get him drunk and then take photos of him in compromising positions with a Yugo.
The Head Weasel’s car was hurt bad, and had to go for the pits the Red Weasel Race Team Pit Crew was ready with the War Wagon, preparing a new Front Clip and four fresh tires the pressure was on. As fast as they could peal tape the Team had eaten away what would equate to over half a lap of time repairing the damage but would get the Head Weasel back out on track still in front of the Leader, just barely but nonetheless they did their job. It was up the mad man himself, the first lap out allowing the tires to come up to temperature and get as sticky as they can, Pat now leading the race was closing in on some Weasel Tail, it was time to go or go home and the hammer came down, another fast lap was set as Pat filled the rearview mirror then with a couple of smooth laps the gap opened and it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the field would have to pit.
It was about this time that the Weasel Wench found herself leading the way, this first time thrill would last only two laps but elating and exciting her to new heights and like many notable events in life ending way to fast.
Lap after lap, Pat was relentless gaining a few seconds then advantage to the Head Weasel as he fought to stay ahead of the leader. Then the 30 minute announcement came across the radio and drivers were starting their scheduled stops. Pushing the limit and as drivers pitted the Head Weasel reclaimed spots and after the cycle he was back in contention but there was still a big gap that would have to be made up. Lap after lap, smooth and fast the 92 moves back into P3 and is starting to catch P2, but would it be enough.
Still heavy on fuel and tires well beyond the desired race limit he pushed on trying desperately to reclaim the Fast Lap, just recently taken by Pat by what looked like 0.2 of a second. But with only three laps to go and tires worn and on the verge of failure the goal was out of reach, then P2 was gone…Questioning the team on what happened Pat apparently bobbled and tank slapped a wall, the 92 had weaseled his way back up to P2 after twice being relegated to the rear of the field with large time deficits to make up.
And at the checkers it was a bitter sweet celebration to go though all that they experienced and yet to still soldier on and find they would occupy the second step of the podium, leaving the team to wonder if things had been just slightly different they go away knowing they had the car to beat.
So as we pack the Trailer and discuss the trials and tribulations of the event the last I saw of Mister Rig, he had a large bottle of Weasel Juice in one hand on a camera in the other and he was heading for Jeff’s camper…
See you next time.
James
Head Weasel
