Fate or Failure - We Got the Car

 Life is funny.

Things have always had a way of falling in place for me at the right time. Whether that's just a byproduct of my being relentless in certain pursuits or sheer luck...it just seems to work out. The old Wayne Gretzky quote of "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take" is certainly true.

Not long after my most recent first blog post, we had a once in a lifetime offer to get into a Porsche race car. This whole thing however...it's not without complications. 

Things have been kind of a bitch lately.

I had been working a ton lately, my depression and anxiety had really been eating at me something fierce all month to boot. I was pretty much on zero energy mental breakdown mode whenever I got a Facebook message from Kim. 

Kim had seen my posting in the various groups, the Cayman Track Cars group to be exact, and had a very unique situation that just might get me into a car. 

See, Kim is a cool racer gal from Connecticut. She had a 2011 Cayman S Interseries car that was in a fairly serious highway accident while in an enclosed trailer. It was bruised up pretty good, but it ran and it drove. 

We spoke on the phone, and worked out the finances. The way things played out with her insurance and my cash on hand meant it wasn't quite to be. Kim, however, as a complete stranger (and now friend) offered to take some money down and allow me to pay the rest of the car off when both of my Integra's went to the buyer in October (which is the exact amount I will owe her).

Racing family has this way of just...being good to one another. That was a huge long shot she was going to take with me. She drummed up a contract for payment security and I took the dive. 


Now for the logistics. 

The car was a solid 7-8 hours away from where I live near Pittsburgh, and being stored at motorsports shop down there she wanted to get it out of. So I decided to lace up the skates on the battle wagon (Cayenne) and head out. The plan was to rent a trailer down there and haul it back because I just don't trust my rig going quite that far these days. The Cayenne itself actually has already done far more than anyone should ever ask of a base 2009 6 banger. 

I decided to leave last Wednesday, which the days leading up to it were pure panic filled. I was supposed to work a Track Night in America that night, as well as visit a friend's new brewery, the following Friday I had to work, Saturday was my Son's 11th birthday party as well as Wednesday typically being the nights that I go and see Nikki, who I hadn't seen in almost 11 days at that point. I was worried about making it there in the first place, let alone making it home pulling a U-Haul trailer. Its also a lot of money, money I don't have in hand quite yet. I'm putting my faith in a fellow racer to come through in October as well to make sure this deal gets done right. Everything has to come full circle and if one single thing went wrong, it was a no dice situation. Plus the variable of like...this car is wrecked and I am totally unfamiliar with the platform.

Frankly though, it was likely one of my only shots at getting a car like this. I had to take it and get it for the money she was asking because I could never afford it flat out in perfect condition.

Whatever, lets go. 

I ended up getting out of Track Night, I had to bail on my buddy and I saw Nikki the Monday before. 

Then on Tuesday I got word that a good racer buddy of mine, and co-worker with the SCCA region had passed away,

Barry Kaplan.

This one hit home for me, Barry was one of the kindest people I knew in the game. When I had first started racing he came out to my house, helped me get all set up, gave me radios. Just a kind hearted guy who really loved racing. He had a huge hand in the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix, and meant so much to so many people.

The most I'd ever seen him laugh is when he talked me into buying the little electric scooter pit bike (Burromax) at the super tour. I truly think a part of him just wanted to watch me scoot around on this tiny motorcycle all day. He got a huge kick out of that.

Barry had always supported me in everything I'd ever done. I think he really would have been excited about this project too. I regret so much that he wont be able to see it come to life. 

I figure the best I can do to honor his legacy is to keep trucking, never quit, and continue to volunteer and share the same kindness with others within our racing family. 

We'll all miss you buddy. Rest well.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

 If I was going to do this thing, I needed to stop talking about it and start being about it. I set sail from Pittsburgh around 10:30am or so on Wednesday after stopping at the bank to make some payments towards work expenses that companies were on me for. I left home and my dear Fiancée Hale agreed to stay home to take care of the house and dogs during my two day trip. What a gem she is. Her support behind me makes so much more possible.

I decided to stay with my dear friend and possible father Greg Amy while I was out there. Greg is one of those straight shooter guys that will let you know if you're fucking up. I felt like that was the perfect place for me overnight.

God, I hate driving.

Driving sucks. I like to just get where I'm going and I don't love being alone with my own thoughts that long. Especially a 16 hour total round trip drive where I had a lot on my mind already. The blast through Pennsylvania is easy enough, mostly straight with nearly no traffic. I got to hitting my Spotify playlists hard and trying to just zone out and focus on the here and now. 

Long trips also mean rediscovering old songs, thinking of old situations and people. It ended up being sort of therapeutic for me in a way I didn't expect. The first few hours went by pretty well actually. I was at peace. 

I was excited to get out of Pennsylvania because currently the tow pig isn't inspected, registered, and the left turn signal doesn't work. The hazards work, but the left signal is broken on the stalk for some stupid reason. Oh well. The car is pretty subtle...under the radar.

Sort of.

Driving through New York also presents its own set of fun challenges for me. The highway seems to have cops every 10 miles and I actually still have outstanding warrants from traffic violations in New York State from when I lived there. Suddenly the out of inspection ticket didn't seem so bad. I also have no idea if yellow headlights are legal there. Oh well. 

I made it through into Connecticut and passed every "something"bury on the way there. The "bury" suffix  out there seems to be the same way everything is "burgh" or "burg" here. Kind of funny how that works.

La Casa De Amy.

Greg Amy is one of my all time favorite people. We first met at 2019 Majors at Summit Point in West Virginia. I had heard the tales of tGA when I started getting ready for the majors, and this was my first event. At the time He and I were both racing in the same class (E Production) and there was nothing more I wanted than to take the wiley veteran down. My first words to Greg were "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm going to beat you one day." . I think had I said anything else to him, maybe we don't end up as good of friends as we are now. Technically speaking, I did DNF later at Runoffs in 2019 than he did. He just had a small issue of bursting into flames in epic fashion down the front straight...directly in front of me. The man never hit the kill switch, never hit the fire bottle, just got the fuck out of there. Hence my tribute tattoo. 

I landed at Greg and his lovely wife's house around 7 or so. We had a beer immediately, then proceeded to go to the bar for food and more beer. The bar we went to was a cool little joint attached to a golf course, they also had a mountain dew based dipping sauce. I'll spoil it for you, it tasted like the bottom of a 7/11 slushie with cayenne pepper in it. Not the best thing in the world, but we tried it anyway. 

Delicious...

When we got back, Greg had me start walking with him to a spot up the road. Apparently this man is just a glutton for giving his time away for free, because he also had they keys to the fire department that we promptly busted into and I got a tour. 

We're both like kids when we're together, its a riot. At least we didn't bring beers to the fire station (which I'm slightly surprised about). 

As fire stations go, this one was pretty rad. There were a lot of specialty vehicles here that were immaculately maintained. I can see how this whole deal can kind of play to Greg's nerdy side. The man loves things. Cars, airplanes, firetrucks, baseball, all sorts of stuff. I had a great time down there. I can't thank the Amy household enough for letting me crash for the night and showing me a great time. 

Greg is also not convinced I'm a professional racer, his criteria is very tight on that. Which that conversation always varies wildly from each person I get an opinion on. I always ask what fellow racers definition of a pro racer is, and its different literally every single time.

A good nights sleep, shower, and some coffee later, it was time to get to my meeting with destiny. 

U-Haul nearly derailed my destiny.

So, apparently they don't just give trailers to any old person without checking up on their tow vehicle. What a concept. 

When I got to the rental place, I didn't have the correct 2" ball or 4 pin adapter they needed. They nice guy working there let me know there's a NAPA up the road and to just grab the stuff and come back to check the lights and get me on my way.

Check the lights...

Fuck.

The left turn signal hadn't indicated a turn in nearly a year at this point. I always just toss my flashers on if other cars are around to change lanes. I knew that wasn't going to fly so I was on the way back from NAPA wondering how much bribe money this guy might take in cash to just let me go on my way with a signal not working. $100? maybe. $200? kind of a lot but it might be a sure thing if I start there.

I got back to the place, hooked up and put my flashers on and backed up to plug in. The gentleman plugged it all in, and I excitedly go "Ah yes, there you go the lights are flashing with the signals we're good to roll"

Except he said "Looks good, but just hop in and give me a left and right just for the sake of it?"

Fuck. Again.

I got back in, killed the flashers. Ready to face my fate I put the right signal on. It flashed its sad, lonesome little arrow in front of me. Then from behind the car I hear...

"Okay man, you're good to go."

No fucking way. I turned the car off immediately and power walked into the office to get the paperwork done and fly down to Musante Motorsports to get the car and meet Kim. I pulled out carefully...to the left.

The day of reckoning.

There is something absolutely primal about buying a wrecked car. On one hand I have lusted after owning one of these cars for years, I couldn't have been more excited. On the other the fight or flight in the back of my head was screaming "What are you doing?!". 

To be honest, everything looked better than I figured it would. I honestly thought maybe I'd see some small detail overlooked that was a total deal breaker. I was also still pretty worried about getting home with this unknown trailer and less than ideal hauler.

 Until this thing was in my driveway I just wasn't going to feel totally good about anything.

That's when a calming presence came to greet me. The kindhearted Kim Estep. 

We shared a big hug, my tale about potentially defrauding U-Haul, and got to looking the car over. We both seemed equally excited, I know she didn't want this thing to just go to the boneyard and I have been absolutely burning to get going on it. It just all made sense. 

After some figuring out getting it on the trailer, and me almost getting my fingers closed in a hatch and a hood a few times...It was loaded up and ready to get going. 

Something special about the Porsche pulling a Porsche thing. 

I signed some papers and gave Kim another big hug, said goodbye to Musante and set off towards home. 

Homeward, to glory.

The trip back, expectedly, took what felt like a lifetime. Especially considering the air conditioning had completely given up the ghost at that point and it was 90 some degrees outside that day. I decided I would be shirtless guy rocking down the highway with this broken race car for 8 hours home. 

...and people fucking loved it.

I never got so many thumbs up, yelling, honking, waving, kids waving on a drive home before in my life. The Integra just didn't have the same sex appeal I suppose. This is around the time it solidified for me that I made the absolute correct decision. It was quite vindicating. This is all about fun in the end, and I am finally starting to have fun again instead of just straight labor and disappointment one after another. 

The drive home, albeit long, got completed. Joe Geisler called me as I was literally pulling into the house. 

"No fucking way im comin over" 

Love that guy.

We eyefucked it up and down, playing back costs and repair time in our heads for awhile before we both called it a night. I think he's getting to be just as excited about this thing as I am. 

A work day, a birthday party, and a smooth day off later and I have this in my garage finally. 

What's your damage, man?

First, I had to play car Tetris, clean my destroyed workspace out, and get this thing in there. Driving a car with no seat mounted is always a joy especially when the clutch is, well...a race clutch.

I ripped the car down taking most of the broken bits off yesterday and here it sits. Frankly I still don't think this is all that bad. I've already found some sources for body panels, the main thing is getting this rear end straight and re-welded. I have a friend and track buddy who's willing to take time out to come look it over and hopefully get it on their frame machine soon. 

One thing at a time.

This initial adventure is now over and the real work begins now. I'm hoping to race this car next year as long as expenses and timing are right. I'm really excited and I'm really glad all of you are sticking with me. 

What a ride it's going to be. 

Spiritually, I feel right. 

You know sometimes when you get that thing you've always wanted, then its like...depressing? Like you have no fire left because you kind of hit the peak and you're just done then?

This isn't like that at fucking all. 

I'm excited again, this is such a cool thing that most people only dream of being able to do, and we're going to do it. We're going to race a Porsche in a professional series. Boy that feels great to say. 

I don't take a single thing for granted. Without everything coming together and so many people helping me out this wouldn't be even close to a reality. 

I'm a lucky guy. 

Lets get after it.