THE REINHART REPORT
Schooled During An Off Weekend
(Reprinted, courtesy National DRAGSTER)

A weekend off. At this time of the year that is a very valuable commodity. Now don’t misunderstand, I work weekends, and I LOVE going to work, but I also enjoy relaxing, or hooking up the boat to head out for some fun in the Arizona sun. So what to do with a weekend off? I had not yet made a decision when the phone rang and Kyle Siepel ask if I was available to come to Bristol and do a four day bracket race. I was, and the deal was made.

If you hadn’t heard Kyle and Peter Biondo did a compromise race. Most of the southern bracket racers run eighth mile, and the northern tracks are almost exclusively quarter mile, so they split the difference and held a 1000 foot race. It sounded like fun to me, and I wasn’t the only one. NHRA regulars, Jeg Coughlin, Shawn Langdon, and Dan Fletcher were just a few of the big time players that filled the pits. The place was jammed with talent. There was big money up for grabs and some of the best in the business showed up to take their chances at a serious payday. This was no place for amateurs, so naturally when the offer came up to actually race a car, it seemed like a brilliant idea. What was I thinking?

Now you need to understand that I had been calling the action for three days. I had been saying things like “Double oh 4 dead on 6 not even close!” Or “.007 taking 2 thou, get out of the way!” And the ever popular, “.003 light leaves last!” Are you getting the point? These guys are good, and they’re playing hard ball. So why in the world would I want to dive into that shark tank? I guess I’m not as smart as I like to think I am. I occasionally make some really bad choices, like the time I gave Dan Fletcher my cell phone number, but that’s a story for another day.

Here’s how it all came about, Fletcher has been telling me for a while (we’re talking years here) that I could drive his stocker sometime. But every time we thought we could make it happen, something would come up. Keep in mind that he is trying to make a living, and I just want to relive my youth. So, if his Super stocker was broken and he needed to get a check, then he drove the car, and I waited for the next opportunity.

The next opportunity finally came. Saturday evening at the Racer Appreciation Bar-B-Que Dan and I talked about the race. He was racing the SS car with a delay box in it, and the stocker was just sitting upstairs. Can I get an entry for just Sunday? Kyle said yes. The catch, No time runs on Sunday, No exceptions! It’s spelled out right there on the flier. Obviously, Dan can dial the car. He has a million and six runs in it going back to high school, and we are within a couple of pounds weight wise, so that won’t be an issue. But can I drive it? With no practice? A car that I’ve never driven? My answer was “Of course I can.” Add that statement to the list of bad decisions I made that weekend. There would be more.

In my younger days, I was a pretty good bracket racer. I’m not saying I was Scotty Richardson, but at my local track, I won more than my share. I even banked, two final rounds and one win in two starts at the AHRA Winternationals that used to be held in Tucson. I would have won them both, but a scattered transmission ruined it for me in the first final. (Do I sound like a racer now?)

So here I am with no practice, in a strange car I had never even sat in until warming it up that morning, being called to the lanes, for round one. Dan has gone through the log book checked the weather and wind, and came up with a number to put on the window. We have a game plan, the guy I’m racing needs to go red so I can have the free time run. No kidding, that was the plan! Our second best scenario is that I just run it out for the same reason. Dan says I’m dialed pretty close, so if I have to hold it down do it, and only if I have a lot of room should you think about lifting or whomping the throttle. I should have written that part down.

The call had been made that Sunday would be eighth mile after the rain storm the night before so I’m psyching up and running through all the procedures in my head again and again. I must have made at least a dozen runs while sitting in the lanes. Burnout RPM, line-loc switch on the dash (The DASH?) Stage @ 2000 RPM, bump in very shallow, plant the brake, put it on the two-step, hit the tree, shift at 7000, reverse pattern valve body, pull the shifter, DON’T PUSH IT. Get in high gear, find him, judge the stripe. I’m as ready as I’m going to get.

In the staging lanes I get paired up with Todd Whited, he’s in a Pro Stock style Olds Cutlass. My car is a ’69 Camaro big block car that Dan runs in A or AA automatic. I’m dialed on a 6.67. I bet you’re wondering what he was dialed aren’t you? I wish I had thought of that. I was so focused on what I was doing that other than shaking his hand in the lanes, I never even looked at his car. If you’re keeping track, mark that down as another poor decision.

We’re up! If you’ve ever raced, even just driving your street car on a test and tune night, you know the feeling when the race master points to you and signals you to pull out. It’s cool. So I fire it up and pull into the burnout box. The pair in front makes their run, and it’s my turn. I do the burnout and pull into the first light. Todd lights his and it’s Showtime. RPM up, bump twice and I’m in. Floored and ready. The tree comes down and I turn the brake loose, Green light. That car leaves hard, wheels in the air, and really puts you in the seat and for just a second I thought WOW! Just long enough to realize that I need to be shifting, I looked at the tach and pulled the shifter, late, at least 700 RPM late. Focus on the tach, hit the second shift right on time. Look over, no Todd, I look as for back as I can see, no Todd. I have no idea what happened to him, but if I can’t see him, he’s toast. So I ease off the gas, I didn’t completely lift, just eased back, after all we’re only running to the eighth, and I can’t see him, he must be broke. And I will win!

Turns out there was another possibility. He has a really fast car, and was closing the gap in a hurry. Once he got to where I could see him, he was going about 3o MPH faster than I was. He went from “Where did you come from?” to “What are you doing that far ahead of me?” in a split second. His scoreboard lit up and I was a loser. At least Dan was sympathetic; he said “Why didn’t you look to see how fast he was?” Thanks, now I feel better.

At least I had hit the tree well. An .012 reaction time is certainly respectable, but didn’t compare with Todd’s .004. How could you do that to the announcer? So after a trip to the buy-back window for another chance. I got re-dialed and went back up for next round. This time the match was with Tommy DeLago. Yes, that Tommy DeLago, Crew Chief on the Die Hard Funny Car. I have seen him race before and he’s pretty good at it. Bottom line, he whipped me. .009 And dead on. I was .042 on the tree and under after Dan dialed back to compensate for my lack of shifting ability on the first run. But I did have a blast, Thanks Dan.

I’m thinking that for my next outing maybe I should try to find a place where the talent level isn’t so high. Now that I’m a columnist I should get an invite to the National Dragster staff drags. And I know I can take Kevin McKenna…..Well, maybe not Kevin, but I can surely get around Phil Burgess……..Well, maybe not Phil, Hey! Who’s the new guy in marketing? That guy I know I can beat.

 - Alan Reinhart