All of the clues came together last week when I realized that I had abandoned AcMo and its staff after our last on-track mishap. This is the moment when I would blame head trauma for my negligence, but it was worse than that. No, this incident sucked out my soul, and I’ve been waging war to retrieve it ever since. That meant I had to forgo my responsibilities at AcMo to save the future.
I last left you days before our Road America pilgrimage. The annual AcMo Memorial Day journey to the track started without incident this time. Our Chicago lunch stop was refreshing and enjoyable. We didn't even see any stray dogs wandering around in the slow lane on the highway this time. The day was going so well that I made the mistake of letting myself believe the weekend was going to be perfect because of what I believed to be multiple positive omens. In retrospect, this was probably just the universe bumping my endorphin levels to prepare me for the inevitable crash. Plummeting out of euphoria into the cloud of doom is possibly more palatable than starting out at the bottom and dropping lower. One man can only take so much failure.
This is the part when I would normally tell you how the AcMo track car dominated every session, bolstering AcMo’s revered reputation in the process. Alas, once again it wasn’t meant to be. We had our ex-fighter pilot instructor lap the car first to confirm it was suitable for the high speed driving our client intended to perform later in the day. Our instructor has years of experience in a similar car, so we were confident he wouldn’t have any issues. I was correct about this one thing.
The second session started great as I watched our client streak down the long front straight; the car’s visual form preceded the unique aural bellow of a hopped up air cooled, twin turbocharged flat six pushing massive torque through the pavement as it accelerated. The sight was so impressive that I decided to move to a different section of track to capture video for all of our backers who thought the engine would explode before we even made it to the track.
I shouldn’t have even put the thought of explosion in my head. Bad thoughts manifest into bad energy that leads to bad juju, and we all know how dangerous bad juju can be. Our client passed by just as I had reached my filming location. I spent the next interval scouting the location for the best sight lines and lighting to make sure the video would pop when I posted it to social media. I saw the car approaching and readied the camera. The car’s approaching speed seemed slow while I looked through the viewfinder. I switched to my personal vision and confirmed that the vehicle’s speed was no longer ballistic, and the tone of the exhaust had changed to a uniquely familiar 5-cylinder rattle. I love 5 cylinder engines, but only when they are actual 5 cylinders. A 6 cylinder impersonating a 5 is not my kind of happiness.
The client pulled directly off the track after 3 laps, with only the second being a fast one. This was a familiar experience for AcMo, but because I had thought this weekend was going to be different, it hit me a lot harder. That was just the beginning.
Even though I know it is unwise to double book the track vehicle as the transport vehicle, I did it anyway because towing a trailer is not that much fun. I knew the moment I heard the sick engine that we were not going to be able to drive the car home. Enter the rental.
Car rental companies love being able to stick you with the car no one will reserve because it is so slow. That’s what happens without a reservation. Yes, we did get the insurance, but the replacement cost of the vehicle may have been close to the deductible anyway. We left our client’s sick car at the track with another shop and cut our losses by leaving the next day.
More than 600 hp evaporated when we switched to the rental Toyota Yaris with its hamster wheel engine. That kind of power drop should be illegal considering how it steals souls. I mean no offense to any Yaris owners out there, but the only way someone would pay for one of those is if they had already had their soul stolen by another Toyota. I think that Toyota translates into “soul crusher” in Japanese. If it doesn’t, it should.
The trip home turned into a mesmerizing game of counting highway reflectors while cruising at a vibration-restricted maximum of 65 mph. That is far more entertaining than watching where we were going. I lost count at 734,812 when our client noticed I wasn’t technically keeping my eyes focused on our direction of travel as we approached the horrific and habitual traffic congestion in the metro Chicago area. I suppose it was my duty to keep the Yaris from crashing since I was driving.
The seven month long—and counting—war for my soul became a conscious campaign this week. That Yaris snatched my soul, and I have only now been able to verbalize what that theft has done to me. I didn’t know my soul was powered by torque until the torque went into hiding. It makes sense why I was compelled to start AcMo now. I didn’t have a choice. It was my calling.
We still don’t have our client’s car back from the other shop, but I am hopeful it will be ready for our next trip to the track. I think I will call first drive this time to make sure all of the systems are in proper operating order. It’s the least I can do for our client. And since I am devoted to learning from experience, I will reserve a better class of rental car before the weekend just in case the engine reduces its functional cylinder count again. I am still unwilling to go to the effort of using the trailer. The hardest part for me to accept is that next time we will be without benefit of two turbochargers since they were “lost“—I have them for future use on a different secret project, so don’t tell anyone—in the repair process.
Power isn’t everything until you don’t have any. Ask any Yaris owner about that.
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