The Southern California Chapter of the Society of Automotive Historians announced the winner of the 2009 James Valentine Memorial Award is “LandSpeed” Louise Ann Noeth, Goodguys Goodtimes Gazette columnist and author of Bonneville Salt Flats. The award for periodicals is granted for Excellence in Automotive Historical Research was presented for her October 2008 column “The Science of Speed”

“The thing which impressed me about the article,” explained Chapter Director Bob Ewing, “was the importance of the physical records. Lots of people have anecdotes to relate about who did what and when, but to have actual physical evidence of the event years after it was over is something else again. A real human touch to the whole story.

The Valentine Memorial Award is named for the late J.H. Valentine, at one time the recognized authority of automobiles built in Los Angeles. Always a strong supporter of the Southern California Chapter SAH, Valentine devoted his life to accurately compiling nearly insignificant data on early automobiles one by one. With no chance of personal wealth, he ensured that future historians would have a large quantity of priceless material. The Valentine Award honors authors whose automotive historical research is linked to people and events in California, but does not preclude significant historical milestones anywhere in the world.

“Walt Sheehan is virtually unknown in land speed racing circles, yet he was directly responsible for all five of Craig Breedlove’s World Land Speed Records” said author Noeth of the winning column, “I am forever grateful to the Goodguys Gazette for providing monthly space the past seven years enabling me to tell wonderful stories of the worlds fastest cars, trucks and motorcycles. The Society of Automotive Historians Southern California Chapter humbles me with the honor.”

Noeth was first honored by her fellow SAH SoCal members when she was awarded the Valentine for her book: Bonneville Salt Flats in 2002. Known to her readers as “Landspeed Louise,” she became the first recipient of the award to be honored for both a book and an article in a periodical. “What’s an FIA World Land Speed Record Worth?“, which appeared in the Goodguys Goodtimes Gazette in October 2004, recounts her efforts to spur the FIA, which is nominally responsible for land speed record keeping as well as other aspects of motor sports, to officially recognize the efforts of competitors before they passed away. She again took periodicals top honors in 2006 with the September 2005 FUEL FOR THOUGHT column “Speedy Thoughts From Wally Parks”

To download a PDF of the winning article:

http://www.landspeedproductions.biz/media/FFT_Oct08.pdf

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Up to now, when your everyday life seemed to get, oh, so mundane and rather boring, there just wasn’t a quick fix for the blahs. There is good news for those who have a chronic “adventure itch”, life is about to take turn for the better — at a pace well above 100 miles-per-hour, thank you very much.

If you have ever wanted to wrap your hands around the yoke of an Indianapolis-style, open-wheel car and hurtle with great abandon around a steep banked track looking to put an Andretti, Unser, or Fittipaldi in their place, CART Driving 101 can set you up for a small fee.

Not a racing school, this establishment bills itself as a “driving experience” and while it may sound a bit featherbrained, I am here to tell you that enrolling in one of 101′s courses will rivet your consciousness into a new dimension.

Guaranteed. No racing background required.

Regardless of whether your encounter occurs at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway tri-oval, or California Speedway, the thrill of blasting across the asphalt at a rock steady 140 plus miles per hour, is unlike any athletic challenge one strives to perfect.

All you need do is bring money and courage. Driving 101 provides all the necessary safety equipment as well as a fleet of 550 HP authentic, purpose-built Champ Cars. Although the staff is very persnickety about equipment hygiene, I’d recommend you bring your own helmet if you are not fond of sharing that piece of intimate driving apparel with anyone else’s head.

My champ car “baptism” began with the “Driving 100″ program that consisted of classroom and trackside instruction before I rolled out of pit row for twelve miles behind the wheel. The company does not believe in “fluff and pamper”, when you arrive its all business, speed business, so you had better pay attention.

The cars are well prepared, but just like a spirited stallion, they require firm control as the cars closely match the size, weight, and data acquisition systems of an authentic Champ Car. Initially, the clattering noise of the chassis straing agianst the mimimalist suspension and body panels is unsettling. After a lap or two, you begin to marvel at how stunningly sticky the tires are, and how robust the suspension is as you dive into one corner after another trying like mad to catch your instructor, or mischievously try to pass him right by. Don’t do it.

Operating under a “lead and follow” procedure, your driving conduct determines the lap speeds by how well you can pace the instructor. They ask you to keep a seven-car interval; I preferred 10, until I got a bit more comfortable with my snorting beast. Heros who try to get too close, too soon will lament, as the instructor will slow right down. You might say it is a “Goldilocks” predicament where only the right driving line yields the highest speed quotient. No one will push you into driving fast but you.

Bermuda native Sharon Lee Johnson, 37, had always wanted to drive a fast car. Living on an island where the speed limit is 20 miles per hour can do that to a person. For 12 years all she drove was a motor scooter. Then she signed up for the ride of her island girl life.

“It was complete exhilaration,” said Johnson who works as a personal assistant, “before I ever saw the cars, I heard them on the track and when I finally walked out onto pit row, I felt just like a big-time race car driver”. Looking forward to getting out on the track, especially the banked portions, she thought her car was going to blow-up when it first started Not a very tall person, she needed the help of a few pads to reach the pedals and then had problems trying to keep the engine running.

“You are always taught not to gun the engine, that only macho guys did that, but I realized that it wasn’t macho at all, it was necessary to keep the engine running,” she recalled with a bubbly laugh.

The $499 course fee is extremely reasonable when you consider these machines are actual scale replicas, not just souped up go karts with speed racer bodies. Driving 101 has put an enormous amount of thought into designing a safe, exhilaratingly robust driving program that will elevate you into the realm of high-speed euphoria usually only reserved for a chosen few.

While it is obvious that the vast majority of guests are male, women who have chosen to “suit-up” enjoy finding their “zone”. The steering is much heavier than a car, but the road feedback is sensational, every moment of your hands on the yoke has an immediate reaction. You discover that in order to drive faster, you actually have to slow down your thought process and pick your movements with deliberate care.

Not a singular experience, there can also be other cars on the track with you, so the possibility of “traffic” exists adding another element of adventure to the mix. At first, you’ll have you hands full just getting comfortable with the machine, listening to what it is saying to you and learning how to respond gracefully. Operating one of these cars will certainly clear out the cobwebs and catapult any residual worries and thought baggage right into the ionosphere. Focus and concentration are paramount to maximizing the experience. Depend on it.

Unfortunately, just about the time the initial learning curve is behind you, the lapping session is over and its time to slide down off the driving line and head back into pit row. If you can recall that agonizing feeling that washed over when your parents told it was time for bed on Christmas Eve, then you will understand how bummed I was when my “driving experience” came to a conclusion. All I want for Christmas is unlimited laps, unlimited laps, unlimited laps . . .

“It is hard to describe the feeling I had afterwards,” noted Johnson, “It took 2 hours just to come down off the high, and for days afterwards, when I would see the picture of me in the car, I would get high all over again. It was as though I were physically struck — my heart would beat faster and my breathing would catch.” Never afraid, the banking and g forces did rivet her attention, and she did admit to having a healthy acknowledgment that things could go wrong.

“I got the shakes in my legs,” she confessed, “It was no doubt due to a combination of many emotions as well as the physical exertion. I remember consciously turning the yoke only once because I was busy keeping up with the instructor. The steering was remarkably easy, as if all you had to do was lean into the curve and the car would steer itself.”

Johnson started out with a paltry 60 mile-per-hour first lap, steadily increasing her speed with each turn around the tri-oval, to finish with a very respectable 127.5 mile-per-hour 7th lap. She’s tasted speed and has surrendered to the need — already decided that her next vacation will be spent back at the Speedway, this time enrolled in the two-day course. Boy, is that motor scooter going seem slow after that . . .

For those who prefer the chauffeur method, Driving 101 also offers a “Champ Ride” – six miles as a passenger with a professional instructor in a specially designed two-seat purpose-built Champ Car. While no experience is required for this program, you will certainly get one — at 170 miles per hour plus for a mere $199. Empty bladders are a must, and be prepared to wear a silly grin for the remainder of the day.

The firm also employs a professional photographer and offers a variety of photo package to document your high-speed hi-jinx and prove to your friends that you are not spewing out just a another “fish story.” Additional instruction and blocks of laps are available to satiate your need for speed.

If the idea learning what race car drivers feel and experience on a first-hand basis appeals to you, I’d suggest it is time to matriculate your fantasy into reality. Safety dictates that guests must be 18 years or older with a valid driver’s license, in good physical condition, 6’5″ tall and under and weigh less than 265 pounds. All a dreamer has to do is pick a date on his/her calendar, sign-up and they are on their way to experience a real fantasy or dream of a lifetime!

For more information contact:
CART DRIVING 101
6915 SPEEDWAY BLVD.
LAS VEGAS, NV 89115
PHONE: (702) 651-6300
FAX:(702) 651-6310
Email: info@driving101.com

or the WIENERMOBILE meets Mr. F18

Most likely, the first musical instrument children of the 50′s and 60′s learned to play was a red and yellow Oscar Mayer Weiner whistle. This poor cousin of the woodwinds was a simple plastic-molded tubular flute that played only three notes, was considerably lighter than an accordion and nowhere near as complicated as a saxophone. Although the Wiener whistle never rated a “first chair” in any orchestra, it was nonetheless many a youngster’s cherished possession.

Weiner whistles were passed out by Little Oscar, the world’s smallest chef, precious gifts that emerged from third generation bubble-nosed Weinermobiles designed by the late Brooks Stevens of “Excalibur” neo classic car fame. The first Wienermobile hit the streets in 1936 and today the tube fleet stands at 12, including two in Japan and Spain.

Every American kid, on any block across the nation, knew the words to the advertising jingle: “Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener, that is what I truly want to be-E-e, ‘cuz if I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener, then everyone would be in love with me!”

After seeing the latest Wienermobile in a few TV ads I thought, “Why settle for just a whistle? Why not get my hands on the whole weenie?” The Madison, Wisconsin based sausage company now has a fleet of 27-foot-long, 10-foot high wienie-on-wheels — the seventh generation Wienermobile.

Sniffing out the top dog in charge, Russ Whitacre at Oscar Mayer, I mustered a good portion of enthusiasm and pitched him about conducting a Wienermobile test drive. Frankly, I never thought he’d bite, but after a few minutes he conceded my idea “cut the mustard” and agreed to a two-day Wienermobile test.

The rolling frankfurter features a 27-inch television, VCR, 6 relish-colored captain’s chair seats, a computerized “condiment control panel” condiment-splattered carpeting, hot dog-shaped instrument panel and glove box, front and rear-mounted “watchdog” cameras to help whip the big dog into parking spots without bruising any skin, cellular hot dog hot line, gull wing door, sun roof and storage closet.

The Wienermobile design underwent tests in the wind tunnel at California Institute of Technology in Pasadena and could, theoretically-speaking; haul buns at speed in excess of 90 miles-per-hour. The best around Ventura County to safely try such a hair-brained stunt was Point Mugu Naval Air Station. The base has nice long, wide runways and plenty of crash equipment if were to scramble the test and if not, then why not have top dog meet top gun afterwards?

Built on a General Motors truck chassis, the new 21st century Wienermobile weighs approximately 100,000 hot dogs and is powered by a V8. The plan was to squeeze out 100 mile-per-hour speed run on Mugu’s 927 active runway in between F-18 takeoff and landings. Escorted to the active runway by the base crash truck, we were only able achieve a disappointing 80 mph. In the dog’s defense, it had to buck a 20-knot semi-cross wind and negotiate a pair of four-inch thick safety cables laid across the runway.

On the return run, the Weiner was told to wait because of C130 traffic on the runway. Once clear, I drop the transmission into first gear and smash the throttle into the firewall. In what seems to be eternity, the big dog’s “at rest” inertia is overcome and we are hurtling along like cold mustard out of a clogged orifice.

I’m told later that several jets were put into holding patterns until the noble Wienermobile finished making its “high-speed” run. Odds are that was the only time those jet jockeys had to line up behind a giant hot dog to land. But can you imagine the visual from the control tower? How about the air traffic controller who cleared us onto the runway? Later, I am told that Weinermobile stories persisted for days afterwards.

Next stop was a Rolls-Royce and Bentley dealership to see how much they might give us in trade. Leaving the dog parked smack dab in front of the Flying Lady statues we bounced into the showroom. The manager ignored us, but we passed out wiener whistles to everyone else in sight. A Chevrolet dealer down the road was more accommodating, saying he’d have to check his records to see what he paid for the last Wienermobile trade-in.

Rolling down one of the many mountain grades of the Santa Monica Mountains, I pulled off the highway when I thought the brakes smelled a tad bit too toasty. The binders checked out fine, but before we could get moving again a Sheriff’s deputy rolled up, joined by a second cruiser a few moments later. We were “released from custody” upon surrendering of several wiener whistles. Hmm, maybe these musical sausages might have a new value the next time I get pulled over?

Technical specifications aside, when you finish driving the Wienermobile any length of time on public roads, your face begins to hurt. You smile at everyone, your jaw aches from all the mirth. If you are a singing ham, like I was, then the public address system will be your tool of choice whilst prowling the roadways. Pulling up to a traffic signal, I would grab the mike and begin having a one-way conversation, or singing one of advert jingles to the car next to me. If they ignored me, I would doggedly follow them until they acknowledged our meaty presence.

You might expect a test drive relate the experience of the vehicle’s performance, handling characteristics and comfort level. With the Wienermobile, the highlight was the look of pure, unchecked joy that spread across the faces of children’s faces, even those trapped in grown-up bodies.

According to my designated “hotdoggers,” Monica Lopez and Moe Drane, I was the first automotive journalist to a test drive of the Wienermobile. Gee Whiz, they even made me an Honorary Hotdogger and gave a signed proclamation to that effect. Code-named, “Yummy,” the eight-foot wide fiberglass dog in a bun isn’t that hard to handle. If you can keep the top of the wienie out of the trees and not scratch the buns below, the rest is just a matter of keeping the top-heavy red-hot in an upright position.

With an estimated 60 percent of the Wienermobile’s 5-ton weight above the “mid-bun” line, executing tight turns is risky. This is one machine that should be driven with caution. The brakes work well, but are noticeably mushy in stopping the big dog. The ride height puts you at eye level with tractor-trailer drivers, but I would venture a guess that driving the Wienermobile in a crosswind might put one’s neck muscles on red-hot alert.

My only regret was not having the time to visit the local vegetarian restaurants . . . dog gone it.