Saturday
On the way to today's stages we pass The Gay Bar, which, wouldn't you know it, is located exactly in the middle of Gay, Mich. No real point here, just an impossible-to-ignore observation. Also along those roads, we run into some rally spectators who give us a two-cheek salute from the back of their Subaru Legacy. Coleman insists it's impossible to return the favor-something about the cold rollcage on Big Jim and the Twins. Finally, somewhere between Gay and the start of SS9, we pass a rolling duck blind. No, wait, it's a boat-in-tow covered with shrubbery. Yes, that's a duck blind. Whatever. You have to be near Gay, Mich., for this to be funny.
Today's stages are why rallying is cool. As we creep to the start of SS9, I can tell the road surface is what we've been craving. Gone are yesterday's pea-gravel-over-concrete roads. Today's stages look like Duncan Hines brownie mix baked to perfection. The surface is hard to the touch, but yields under the right amount of force to produce grip available only in rally heaven. We start the day 17th on the road, despite being higher in the overall ranking.
When the starter screams "go," I'm immediately into red mist and can tell Coleman is nervous by his tone. Sure, we discussed driving sensibly and talked about how we have everything to lose and not much to gain. Shepherd being untouchable on day one doesn't keep me from irrational optimism. Anything can happen in rallying, right?
Just as expected, the grip is phenomenal. I find a rhythm that's about two clicks past my comfort zone and decide to stick to it for the rest of the stage. Two turns later, things fall apart. Sliding into a "left four" I plant my foot into the cold steel of the floorboard expecting the front tires to hook and pull us straight. Instead, the SRT-4 continues its tail-out slide to the edge of the road and into greenery. Later, I realize that I missed the throttle. Instead of planting my foot onto the gas, I mashed it worthlessly into the firewall.
When the tail hits the bushes, the car rotates parallel with the road. Now we're charging through the greenery, foliage exploding around the car, like a 250-hp Troy-Bilt chipper shredder. To compound the problem, I lose track of the steering and struggle to find straight ahead with my hands while my right foot mashes desperately for the throttle. Several seconds of rally-ending fear flash through my head before the car returns to the road. Again, we get lucky. Coleman reports the need to separate his nougens from the rest of his body after the stage, and I promise to never miss the throttle again. We finish only two seconds slower than Shepherd and Gladysz. False hope continues.
The ability to slow down, finish the rally in a respectable position and go home satisfied is the sign of a mature rallyist. I don't have it. And it's not just my chest-pounding machismo that says we have to win our class. Tradition holds that any time a staffer from SCC drives a rally car on a press gig, we win. Coleman has done it twice and I even lucked my way into a first in class at the Oregon Trail ProRally in 2002. However, we've never before raced against Doug Shepherd and Pete Gladysz. And the Production Class Hyundai Tiburon's pace was like slow motion compared to the freakshow of speed that is the SRT-4 through the forests.
At the lunch service, Don Jankowski, another Dodge engineer and member of our crew, shows us what's left of one of our front brake pads. It's in three pieces. The backing plate has separated and a big chunk of the friction material is missing.
"Heat," he says with stoic restraint.
"Uh, yeah. Heat," I reply. No further words are exchanged. The message is sent. And the rally is almost over.
The remaining three stages are remarkably devoid of any miracles or disasters. We come within one second of matching Shepherd's pace the second time through Burma, SS13. I hold onto this piece of driving as a tiny shred of evidence that I can still do it, although I'm confident at this point in the rally that Shepherd has comfortably settled into cruise control. We finish second in Group 5 and 12th overall.
The following day, after a good night's sleep and some serious end-of-the-season rally partying, three truths become clear.
First: The SRT-4 is undoubtedly the fastest two-wheel-drive rally car in the country.
Second: I'll never be a mature rallyist.
Third: Warp drive isn't necessary to beat the SCC boys.