Something to Never Do

by Ev Newton

The SCCA graciously let me set up a rally school (ambitiously called Rally College 2004), and April 24 was the day.   Brilliant sunshine, chilly, and a great day to be on the road.   A good gaggle of CVCers attended, to my considerable gratitude.   We entertained 25 carloads of “students,” with experience ranging from zero to 35 years.   Lots of Bimmers from a certain 2002 tii to a slick silver Z4 made a nice contrast to the lotful of more traditional rally cars – Subarus and the like.   With 17 qualified instructors in attendance, we were able to give sometimes one-on-one attention to those who wanted it.   (We actually folded the 6’3” Clint Goss into the back seat of a Sube WRX for the afternoon rally.  Clint wrote The Book on rallying 20 years ago.   This was like having Boris Said as a driving school instructor.)

Our chief schoolmarm, Fred, spent the morning class session explaining the very basics of the sport to an eager group.   Checkpoint procedure was prominently featured; we did not want students stopping in the middle of the road at checkpoints, so we carefully warned them to pull safely past the checkpoint and walk back to the checkpoint car to collect their in-time.   Simple enough.

Judy and I ran lead car in the short morning rally, found most of our signs still up, then returned to the first checkpoint as the last couple of rally cars were arriving.   A half-dozen instructors waited at the checkpoint, ready to descend on incoming cars to offer sage advice.   Once the main bulk of cars came through, we fell to telling war stories.   The last “missing” car, a mint-new STi bearing a man, Greg, and his teenage son, Alan, pulled in very late .    We continued reminiscing while the stragglers dutifully pulled past the checkpoint and stopped.   After a few minutes, someone shouted, “Hey, they’re leaving!”   Sure enough, our once-lost sheep were apparently bent on getting lost again, having failed to obtain either their arrival time or, more importantly, a start time for the next leg.   “I’ll catch them,” I volunteered, and jumped back in the M3.   (Yeah, Clark Kent with a grin.   Judy just rolled her eyes.)

I caught Greg and Alan at the next turn, flashed my lights, and waved them over.   In my most pedantic fashion, I explained that they should have picked up an out-time at the checkpoint, so we can score the next leg.   “Doh!” they exclaimed in unison.   Because this was strictly a non-competitive training event, I just wrote in a likely start time for the leg in the proper slot on their score card, and told them to keep rallying.   I followed for a while at a discreet distance, then passed them and ran ahead to the next checkpoint.   They found the checkpoint without further mishap.   Then we scored the leg based on the arbitrary start time I had assigned.   Proper leg time: 17.07 minutes.   Actual time: 17.07 minutes.   Score zero for the leg.   The only zero of the day.

The lesson for rally teams everywhere: never stop rallying – you never know.

P.S.   Droves of experienced rallyists claim to have seen (or achieved) such a randomly generated zero leg score.   They are all liars.   But I have witnesses.