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| This is the closest I can come to a picture of what the car looked like. Since it was a test vehicle, no pictures of it were allowed. |
One of the hazards of being a contracted test driver for a company,
which I was, was that there was always the possibility of your assigned car
breaking down, or setting a check engine light, both of which meant your shift
was essentially over. If you were lucky, the bosses might have some cars to
wash or some water jugs to refill around the proving grounds, to get you close
to getting a full day’s work in, but usually when you broke down, you had to go
home.
I was in just such a situation one night during the late
summer, early autumn. I had a car that was so normal I don’t even remember what
it was. But after lunch, the car set a check engine light. I took it to the
garage, and the mechanics shut it down. I went back to the office, and asked if
they had anything else. I expected them to tell me no, because this was the
time of year that testing started slowing down, as temperatures were starting
to drop as summer slowly died, and high temperature testing was what the GM
proving grounds in Mesa were all about.
To be honest though, being Arizona, nothing slowly dies. Summer here goes
from the end of April, to the beginning of October. One day in April, it will
be nice, sunny, and warm. The next day, it’s over 100 degrees. One day in
October, it’s 105 outside. The next day, the high is 65. I guess that’s why
they call it the desert!
I was in luck though. One of my bosses said that two hours
ago a car had been called up for what he called an engine break-in. Now these
could be fun, as depending on the engine, you might get to exceed 100 miles an
hour on the circular track. Or you might get to bring the car up to 50 miles an
hour, and keep it there for three hours while you drove around. You never knew
until you got in the car.
So I got my assignment, and the location of the car, and
walked over to the garage. I remember it being a gorgeous night (I was working
third shift at the time, so it was about 4 to 430 in the morning when this
happened), but the car was far more gorgeous. This was a legit, honest to God
race car. It even had the five point harness-type seat belt that racers use. (A
five point harness is called that because there are five seat belts: two go
over the shoulders, two go around the waist, and then there is the submarine
strap, which comes up between the driver’s legs to prevent him or her from
sliding under the belts in the case of a crash).
This car had an 800 horsepower, V8 engine, with a six-speed,
manual transmission. To put that in perspective, the cars that most of us drive
hover around 200 horsepower. Most NASCAR engines put out about this amount of
horsepower, or a bit more. Most Formula One cars put out about 200 horsepower
more than this car I was about to drive. The term kid in a candy store could
never have been more appropriate to describe my feelings.
My head was buzzing. I knew I wouldn’t be racing this thing,
as we were never without strict orders that had to be followed regarding how
the cars were driven, or we could seek other employment: that’s how serious
they were about the cars. But I was expecting to maybe get out on the track and
stretch the car’s legs, as they say in racing (meaning to drive it fast for a
good amount of time).
I should have known something was wrong when I noticed the
mechanic grinning at me. I asked him, like I asked all mechanics when I picked
up a car from the shop, if there was anything I should know about the car. He
said no, just read the paper that was in the car.
I got in the car, and there was the paper sitting on the
front passenger seat. The paper detailed how this was a special car, meant to
test a special part of the engine, and that the first few days of its life on
the proving grounds, which began that night, were to be a break in. So because
of that, I had to run what they called a Granny schedule. Granny schedules were
schedules we ran that kept the car at a maximum of 15 miles per hour. My job
was to drive this 800 horsepower best, this tiger that was waiting to get out
on to the track and roar, around the building area, never exceeding 15 miles an
hour.
While that might sound disappointing, and it was, it was
actually pretty hard work. A car with an engine that big tends to have an itchy
trigger finger when it comes to the gas pedal. The same amount of force that
you might apply to the gas pedal to get your car away from a green light, maybe
maxing out at 40 miles an hour after a quarter of a mile of steady cruising,
would send this car up to 100 miles per hour or more easily if the driver
wasn’t paying attention. That, and because this was essentially a race car, it
had a manual transmission, as all race cars did back then. With this kind of
transmission, and an engine that powerful, stalling was a real possibility, and
if I remember right, I did stall it a couple of times as I was starting to
drive it. I had to spend the rest of my shift alternating between idling the
car, not letting it stall, and just barely, lightly, blipping the gas pedal to
keep it going. I won’t lie, I had a cramp in my right calf that didn’t go away
for two days after that night.
So for about three hours or so, I drove the car around the
building area, never going on any of the tracks or roads of the proving grounds
(because 15 miles per hour is too slow to be allowed on any of the roads). When
I saw that my shift was over, I returned the car to the garage, got the
mechanic to sign my sheet (something required to prove that I didn’t just take
a nap for the rest of the shift, but actually worked!) and made my way back to
the office. I’ve always been curious what that car was actually testing. All I
know for sure is that what it truly did test: my right calf muscle! Until next
time…
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