I am a car guy. I
believe we established that in A Short
(very) Story back in May of 2014. If you haven’t read it or don’t remember,
I suggest you give it a look see. It
lays the foundation for much of my life.
I do appreciate the finer points of car design. But my passion is for driving, not wrench
turning. And thus, my focus has always
been improving my skills as a pilot. A
motor vehicle is an instrument. Van
Cliburn doesn’t tune pianos, he pounds on the keys. And as is the case in most any passionate
pursuit, I have been known to push the limits right up to or slightly beyond
the edge of the performance envelope.
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| Jamacha Road |
It was a Friday night; more likely very early Saturday
morning. I was headed southbound on
Jamacha Road (pronounced ha-maa-shaw: CA state highway 54) out of El Cajon en
route my parents’ home where I still lived.
Those of you familiar with the area today would not recognize it way
back then. Today, it is a five-lane,
curbed, well-lighted boulevard comprised of both residential and commercial
zones. In 1974, it was a two lane
country road with no night lighting.
There were no signals or stop signs from the city limits of El Cajon to
the junction with State Hwy 94: It was about three miles of near-straight
blacktop.
 |
| 1972 Nova |
I was driving a 1972 Chevy Nova powered by a stock 350 CI
V-8 engine. I was feeling a little
squirrely and may have been ever so slightly under the influence of a liquid
intoxicant. Good judgment has never been
my strong suit and as events would betray, my suit was at the cleaners on this
night anyway.
The road was clear of all traffic so I leaned into the
accelerator a bit. Eighty
miles-per-hour, I seem to recall. Just
south of Hillsdale Road, the road grade begins a gentle incline. As it passes the entry to the old quarry (no
longer there) the highway jogs just a few degrees left at the same time it
reaches the apex of the grade and starts downhill. This is where I learned my first practical
lesson regarding traction and the unloading of one’s suspension.
When a spring suspended vehicle is climbing a grade at
speed, it is building energy in an up direction. As the car reaches the apex and transitions
to a down direction, the inertia of the suspended weight continues upward for a
very brief period of time unloading the suspension, resulting in a reduction of
traction. Normally, you only notice this
if there is enough suspension travel to result in that floating feeling one
gets while riding a roller coaster:
Negative Gs as it were. However,
if this reduction of traction coincides with the need to maneuver, let’s say
for a curve in the road, the effect can be more serious.
So there I was, still travelling southbound along Jamacha
Road, while at the same time my car was spinning on its own axis. I was unnaturally calm as I witnessed the event;
it was too bad that this was happening in the dark, as I would expect the
passing view was somewhat exhilarating.
My life did not flash before my eyes as is suggested in cartoons. My thoughts were turned more to the depth of
embarrassment my parents would endure over the death of their only child in
such a ridiculous fashion.
…be sure to tune in next week to learn Dale’s fate. Did he die in a fiery crash?
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