Photography by Bob Harrington
Feature: E-Ticket Ride
October 1, 2006
All three cars have 4.2-liter engines in various stages of tune—#61 has 440 hp, #62 395 hp, and #63 380 hp. Because they have aluminum and steel construction, #61 and #62 weigh 2,415 and 2,475 pounds, respectively. The all-steel #63 is heaviest, at 2,550 pounds.
Besides having fewer horsepower and more weight than my teammates, I also had less racing experience—mainly at the wheel of a rear-engine, 130 hp 4-cylinder Porsche. The Jaguar was definitely a different breed of cat.
The car is set up for a benign manner of handling, and oversteer is not a concern unless the driver mashes the throttle too soon coming out of a tight corner in second gear. The manual steering requires muscle but has good response. The biggest tussle was with the production 4-speed gearbox, especially downshifting smoothly into second gear. It is a fairly physical car to drive, and I went to bed after the first day’s practice feeling more like I had been in the boxing ring than on the track. Of course, jumping into the car after a red-eye flight from L.A. and fueling up on coffee and the lumberjack special at one of Georgia’s ubiquitous Waffle House restaurants did not help matters.
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When not at the wheel of the 1962 Jaguar coupe,
Jack Busch pilots a late model SCCA Trans Am in which he has set lap records at various New England tracks. (Click image to enlarge)My comfort and my lap times improved after that, but gearbox woes continued to slow me down at the chicane just before going uphill and under the bridge that leads to Road Atlanta’s final turn. Looking beyond the Jag’s long nose for the plunge downhill after the bridge also took some getting used to, but eventually I just let the car correctly fall off toward the left edge of the track before turning right at the apex of turn 12.
The exhilarating part was how the big Jag galloped up the hill through the esses and pounded down the back straight, where it would reach its maximum velocity of about 150 mph. I was running near the back of the pack but enjoying mixing it up with a couple of the slower Corvettes during Saturday’s qualifying race.
Sunday’s race had a ragged start among us back markers. I decided that I did not want to be forever known as the West Coast writer who caused the wreck in turn one on the first lap. I did worry a Shelby for a few laps before bungling a downshift in the usual place. I also chopped another two seconds off my best lap time as I became comfortable enough to discover that the Jag liked to be tossed into the corners. Maybe I had been too conscientious about preserving the equipment, but it was still fun.
The people were wonderful to be around, and Donovan gave me a great car. If someone asks me if racing was better in the good old days, I can answer in the affirmative. Thanks to vintage racing, these are the good old days.
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