ZOLDER Meeting September 15-16th 2001

So its now September and were off to Zolder, Belgium for rounds seven and eight of the championship. We're now five points behind Nigel Fry in third place, second in the championship, looks like an uphill struggle to achieve this year! Will my mechanical gremlins behave themselves for the rest of the year to let me fight it out on the track to the end of the season?

Zolder will test the new brake lining material to its full as it is the most demanding circuit we visit, with its very fast, up and downhill sections, with trick corners that come up on you in a flash, some so tight you can't turn the wheel fast enough to get through them without taking out tyre corner markers, big lumps of gravel trap, grass and dirt, and avoiding the odd tree or two.
The first corners suck you in at speed then close up on the exit with adverse cambers and high tricky kerbs. Two trucks go in only one comes out!!

Oh, and of course not forgetting the solid 2ft thick, 4ft high concrete wall surrounding the racetrack! Get it wrong and you've got 4ft of grass to get back on or you write yourself off on the wall, as many have found out in the past, this will be my 15th annual visit to Zolder and every year it has claimed at least one truck, never to be seen again, just a mangled wreck! I treat the place with the utmost respect, the knowledge that so many drivers have been killed here in various types of motor sport in the past. kicks my self-preservation mode into play. The track needs gutsy drivers if you are to succeed with good results over the weekend. I have always done well here in the past and hopefully this meeting will close the gap up a bit to Nigel if all goes well.

Anyway Ern and Ben have been finishing off the truck in the workshop, checking, cleaning and lubricating almost everything over the weekend, Monday and Tuesday. It's now Wednesday afternoon and time to load up and stock the trailer with spares of all descriptions, three more spare full sets of brake shoes. Bad news begins to be reported to me by various people about the weather worsening up overnight bringing on gales in the Channel for Thursday morning's ferry crossing Dover to Calais. Jane hears the reports too and starts to go green at the thought of the choppy crossing.

With the delays of increasing security at the dock and possibilities of ferries being delayed I took the decision we would leave and get on our way at 11.00pm Wednesday night and at least cross the Channel before the weather closed in on us, instead of the scheduled sedate start to the journey at around 9.00a.m on Thurs morning.

Onto the diesel pump we went with the Kenworth and put in 400 litres to get us to Belgium. We would fill the belly tank on the trailer for racing plus another 300 litres to get home on the cheaper Belgium fuel.
Nice quiet roads through the night got us down to Dover at around 3am, the docks were like a ghost town, 3.45am sailing gave me just enough time to get the Belgium road tax for 3 days for about £20. I forgot two years ago, it cost me £300 cash in a fine by a Belgie copper who robbed me on the roadside!
We were on the deserted boat with a dozen other vehicles and on our way at 3.45am.This time of night is definitely the best time to travel across the channel, if like me you can't stand herds of people everywhere, in your face wherever you try and go on the boat to get some peace. Unoccupied seats and no queues at the fag, coffee or eating shops, is definitely the way to go.

We arrived into Calais at around 5.30am after a nice calm crossing and a no stopping exit of the docks in about 15 mins instead of the normal endless stops for checks of everything from, "have you disinfected your wheels?" To "how many litres of diesel have you got?" And searches for a pint of milk, etc, etc, etc, which I usually get when entering France puts us out on to the motorway by 5.45am /4.45am French time.
Now bearing in mind Wednesday all had been up since 6.30am the previous morning we were all about knackered and beginning to look for somewhere to stop and have a kip.
We had to get out of the docks in case we got boarded by any illegal I.M.O.s. Now out on the motorway, stopping places big enough to park and away enough from the noise of the road to get some sleep are limited. Past Dunkirk and Bruges we go still trying to find somewhere to stop. We eventually stop at a services about 20 miles past Bruges at about 7.00am. We all fell directly to sleep about five seconds after stopping.
I woke about 10.30am and felt worse than I did before I got three and half hours sleep. To get out of the car the body was having difficulty in doing what the brain was telling it to do.
A quick wash in the pay as you go Belgie toilet made me a bit cleaner, but I still felt like a Zombie, a foreign Zombie at that.

A lovely Belgian breakfast of rubber cheese with holes in, teeth breaking bread and undrinkable coffee woke me up no end! We filled up the trailer belly tank, and topped up the Kenworth with cheaper Belgie diesel, got the evil eye and a look over by a member of the local constabulary (Belgie copper), showed him our Belgium road tax and a big grin to help with British and foreign relations and got on our way.
The Brussels ring road was quiet as it goes, with not too many Kamikaze drivers cutting in at speed to either turn off at the last minute, or try to drive under your wheels when they join the motorway from the inside at high speed.
I still managed to miss the turning off the motorway ring road through, just like I did last year and had to turn off at the next junction to come back, still ended up in a tiny hamlet suitable for citroen 2cv's, trying to turn round 55ft long rig it was close, but round she came, just, leaving a bit of English rubber on the road and a few local resident's looking on in awe of the big purple beast!!
We eventually arrived at the track at around 3pm, collecting our passes from the info chalet in the woods outside, then up to the entrance to the paddock and was stopped by half a dozen jobs worth's wanting to see each of our passes and our vehicle passes before they would let us enter with a race truck to the race truck meeting, in case we had driven all the way from Oxford to try and sneak in without paying or something, they do my head in!! Employed at the gate of all racetracks throughout Europe are a particular type of human being who have an important job, not to let competitors into the track to compete at that meeting until they are absolutely sure you are not fiddling your way in!! Even if you have a race truck with you, with racing numbers on the side of it. They are just doing their jobs I suppose, tossers!! One day I will run one over when they jump in front of me, in their enthusiasm, he will then become a gate martyr I suppose!

The paddock for a change is not chokka block with trucks and there is ample room to unload and manoeuvre Kenworth into position with its very responsive steering, on the white line and dead straight to make the pit.
I look around and we are one of the first Brits to arrive instead of one of the last! The guys doing the full European season who have come direct from the last European meeting arrived yesterday, and we were the first team to arrive from Britain.
With nothing going on until tomorrow (Friday) it seemed strange to arrive at a meeting half a day early instead of the usual just in time, in the middle of the night like usual.
The rest of the day slowly went past while Ern was doing another mechanical check under the bonnet and under the rear of the truck, I washed off the Kenworth, trailer, my car, and polished a few bits on the race truck with help from Jess, generally to while away the time.

Ben was nowhere to be seen after the initial unloading was completed, he was off round the paddock meeting his mates, on the Brit, Czech, German, French, etc teams saying "what's up!"
In sign language "how's it going boy's?" picking up a few technical tips and of course looking for lone young individuals of the female kind. Jane's sorting out the living area of the trailer, putting the kettle on! Doing the domestic bits like stocking up the fridge and generally sorting out the kitchen for the next three days.

As the evening goes on other Brits start to arrive with stories of the motorway closed in Kent, huge queues into Dover, with the increasing security and terrible choppy crossings, with boats delayed by up to two hours!
I was glad we came when we did or I think it would have taken fifteen to seventeen hours not the normal ten hours that we whipped through in the night. Absolutely wrecked, to bed we went at about 11pm with still four to five Brits still to arrive.

We were up about 7am having had a decent eight hours after two days with three and a half hours in between.
Feeling a bit more like I'd had a bit of sleep this time. The paddock was filling up now with the rest of the Brits arriving through the night and some French nationals. A frenzy of unloading and pitting up takes place at around 8am getting everyone into position in the now cramped paddock.
Ricky Collett arrives last after leaving Halifax late Thursday coming through the night straight from doing a days work in his busy garage, looking as black as a coalman! "morning" he says in his broad Yorkshire accent "is there any tea to be had here?"
Jane takes pity and makes him a drink and offers him soap and a towel as well, which he declines as he hasn't got time and "its not November yet is it lass? Me next bath is scheduled for then!" Little Richard crawls out from the bed of the truck and gets a mug of tea from father via Jane. Little Richard is Bens mate, both over 6ft and both 18, both apprentice mechanics and both looking after their Dads race trucks, while their Dads get the enjoyment on the track, good job they live so far apart though, as what a pair if they went out on the town together on the girly hunt, in their big working boots!

Scrutineering takes place at 9am with no faults we're out on the track to practice with untimed sessions Friday afternoon to familiarise with the track and try and get a set up. Turns 1,2,3,and 4 had been re-profiled over the last winter and everyone was struggling to grasp it. The first bend at the end of the pit straight was now faster but the second, tighter and slower with opposite camber, the third faster if you could get grip out of the second and the fourth was quicker on the way in, but closed up on the way out with less grass and more deep pea grit gravel, no longer an option to exit over the kerb and take two foot of grass as well. The racing line through this corner at around 85mph will have to be spot on to come out the other end!! The chicanes were just as tight as ever with more pea grit around them too!!

Friday went ok, with nothing breaking although I was struggling for grip but it seemed like everyone else was too. The rear brakes caught fire but that was expected. Oh, and it poured with rain every hour for half and hour creating very changeable track conditions. I needed to purchase front tyres and as this was the last time I would see the continental tyre man this year, I would have to purchase enough tyres for this weekend's racing, Le Mans and Pembury in October, Donnington in November and Pembury April next year. Worked it out, eight should do it, ouch, £1200!!
I really needed four for the back as well, as they were old and the rubber compound has gone hard through the constant heat imposed through them but hate to think of just having them for the sake of it when I've got tread left. I will wish I had put four new on the back by the end of the morning.

Saturday morning timed qualifying came round and although not raining, the track was very wet indeed. I just couldn't get any traction out of the corners and seem to be struggling to get a quick time. I pushed harder and harder down the fast sections and deeper into the corners, I saw Ben standing on the pit wall waving his arms, I checked the mirrors and saw flames shooting up from the rear brakes, I slowed down and came back into the pits, just as I stopped the front brakes caught fire! Erns flapping his coat on the fronts, one side then the other, Bens running up and down the pit lane looking for a fire extinguisher, finds one by a sleepy fire marshal, grabs it, ran up and squirted the truck with foam from behind then up to the fronts which kept re-igniting, burning pipes and the bonnet until eventually they cooled down. "Good flammable brake shoes" I shouted to Ern.
Back to the pits to fit a new set before the next session, it was decided to change the rear brake shoes in the time available and while the rear wheels were off I go and get four new rear tyres, as no grip on the back end was dangerous to my health here! Tyre bill comes to £1800!!
The times have come out for the first timed section and I'm twelfth out of the 24 starters and fourth out of the Brits I'm racing, no good!
For those who of you who don't know, the British National races are run inside the European races so you race with all 24 starters and then your finishing positions within the Brits define your points. I love these full grids in Europe, only 20 seconds a lap separate the front of the grid to the back which creates terrific close racing, trying to beat a dozen foreigners and be highest placed Brit in Europe is quite a challenge!
Second timed session for second points race in just a few minutes, the new brakes and tyres on the rear should help to improve times.

A sudden downpour soaks the track just before we go out, got to do better this time, over the line we go on the first lap, water brakes on, into the new fast bend, that feels better, positive grip and then traction from the rear, needed them tyres I think!
All of a sudden I see shimmers of oily stuff on the track, someone's dropped a load of diesel all round on the racing line, trucks are this way, that way, sideways, now's my chance I think. Its like a traffic jam though, one struggling slow truck, then another, and another, there's the Frenchman whose dumped all the diesel, parked up on the grass after two laps of dumping, "pratt" I shout at him, the tracks clear in front of me at last, I can go for it, flying down the straight in a mist of diesely rain with the wipers having no effect, I just got on with it.
That lap got me fifth on the grid next to Stuart Oliver with the other Brits trailing some five seconds a lap slower.
Yes - my kind of deadly slippery conditions, gently on the steering, brakes, power, on the edge of adhesion!! Man and machine in perfect harmony.
My new rear tyres gave me the grip and traction I needed. A hasty change of the front brakes and check over the rest of the truck saw us out for the first race Saturday. Twelfth place on the grid with Roy two rows up and Nigel three rows up in front. I generally had some work to do to get up with and indeed pass them in the race, while being surrounded by foreigners as well.

Anyway give it a try I thought. Round on the rolling lap we went, I felt like I was in the middle of a truck traffic jam, six pairs in front of me, six pairs behind, exit the chicane, can't see a bloody thing!! If in doubt, go, need a good run down to the first corner, can't seem to get through any where, boxed in trucks all around me, still can't see properly only big chunks of different coloured metal machines, in front, both sides and behind, the guy in front of me changes line and goes down the right side, opening up the middle, that'll do, now we can give it full throttle, up the last gear and flying down the middle into oblivion, passing two, then four trucks still accelerating, must soon be at the corner I think, still can't see through the smog, here's the end of pit wall, jump on the brakes, Spaniard by the side of me going into the corner, I'm on the inside through for the left hander can just lean on him I think, turn in. Suddenly I just catch the yellow colour of Ross Garrett's truck up the inside of me out the corner of my eye, Spaniard would now have to be a casualty, can't turn in tight now, Ross get's the inside line, forces me wide and I hit the Spaniard straight in the side, sending him off into the gravel, a frantic dash to the next right hander, Ross still just ahead of me by a couple of feet, cuts across the front of me putting me up on the inside kerbs, my front bumper catches him in his rear wheel, he goes by, talk about chop me, bang! Again, poor girls getting some harsh treatment today, I thought I made a good start but Ross made a better one, who's this in front of us then? Clarkey! And just in front of him, Nigel! I must have made up six places at the start.

I pushed hard for a couple of laps, I caught Roy and hassled him from behind until he made a mistake and I shot through under braking at the end of the straight, my brakes and tyres just seem to go off rapid after pushing Roy so hard, couldn't catch Nigel and had to settle for another third place in our group, sixth in the race, not bad from a twelfth starting position, good race, lots of contact, but in reality another point lost to Nigel.
I'm beginning to think this second place in the championship is just slipping away now!
Back in the pit Ern and Ben have got the bumper to straighten out again, the off side panel is hanging off and is just flapping in the wind, body repairs took place into the evening as well as the normal end of race day jobs on the truck.

Ross's men came round to borrow a spanner and Ben proudly showed off some of their yellow paint on our front bumper. We had decided to have a barbecue Saturday night and invite a few people round to have a bite to eat and a drink with us.

The Sunday race pre-grid saw us out on the track at 10.00am taking up our positions for the first race of the day. Fifth place on the grid! Looking around the grid we had four works factory backed big budget European trucks in front of us and one by the side of us in sixth place. We all felt a great sense of achievement, highest starting independent British team in Europe, right up the front with the best! Great feeling!
Ben said to me on the grid "this is where we belong Dad"
"You'll have to go some, to catch me this time Nigel" I thought to myself.

The track had dried up a bit for the start but the conditions were still very slippery indeed. Three minutes, board, start your engines, two minutes, clear the grid of people, one minute, select a gear and get ready, then we are on our way, trying to keep formation, warming up the tyres and brakes as we go.
Up to the last chicane we rumble on with the water brakes, last minute, down one gear, keep the revs up, keep in formation, lights on red, still red, still red come on! My right foot frustrated, at last, green! Go, go, go, they are pulling away from me slightly, factory engines at their best I suppose. What's this M.A.N. in sixth, think he's doing leaning on me, trying to push me left onto the grass, "no way mate", our mirrors clang "you're not going to outbrake me", at the end of the straight and cut's across me for left hander. We catch the leaders up who are now braking for the corner "you're not beating me into the corner, matey" I think again as we are both still hard on the throttle, aye up! I recognise that red truck in front, it's Stuart, bang! I hit him straight up the rear cross member and gave him a little push to stop him dawdling about. "Come on Stuart, I'm trying to race back here", where's my mate in his `Man`, is he trying to go round the outside? Yes but there's no track left out there!! He stands on the brakes and slots in behind, nice one!! "Get a move on, you leaders will you? In your super go faster big buck trucks your holding me up!!" Nose to tail, six of us, corner after corner, don't try and go past, you might take one of them out, then there will be hell to pay!! I think to myself, I just need to finish and beat the others I'm racing, who are behind me anyway? Keep it all together and get to the end I keep thinking, then out of nowhere comes a red flag, no must be wrong, nothing happened, then another, must be true, race stopped. Stop racing, proceed slowly under caution to reforming area. I, as always check my mirrors to make sure other's behind know to stop as well, as major carnage has been caused in the past by some who do not see the red's in ample time to react! Who's this right behind me? who do you think a white, white; he's caught me in five laps.

Quick off with the water or else we won't, probably still wont have enough water to cool the brakes until the end of the re start I did not see what had caused the stoppage but was told later Keith Dyson had rolled his Volvo White on turn four, the fast right hander. So Zolder claimed another write off, to go with the two damaged yesterday after heavy impacts into the pit wall down the straight. Two get mended, one goes home totally wrecked, but Keith was o.k. bit shaken but o.k, that's the M.A.N. I'm sure he'll remember Zolder for a very long time. Anyway, eventually his truck was righted, removed and the circuit tidied up for the race to re start.

I've got to do it all again now, and make a faster start, and get further down the road than the last time or risk getting over hauled by my buddy. I felt determined, I could do it, "we can do it girl", just another day in the office I thought, no a better day!! This could be the turning point of the season.
I flew off the line at the second start as fast as she would go we went, lap after lap, the time for caution was over, flat out, till the end, all brakes on fire, temperature red hot, yes, I had to thrash her, but we did it. At last one point up! But still four points behind, with four rounds still to go, Pembury and Donnington. Could I get five points out of the remaining rounds to secure this second place?

With the championship rounds out of the way I got on and enjoyed the rest of Sundays racing with some good battles with the foreign guys, and a bit more body damage to take home for Roger to mend.
All in all a good meeting with close competitive racing in the deadly changeable weather conditions, truck held up mechanically "good girl" maybe it's looking up, lets go home!!

With the accolade of highest qualifying and highest placed independent British team in Europe, not a bad weekends work by us, even if I say so myself, see you in Pembrey in October!!