Monday, 30 October 2017

Bathurst, Pt.2: The Dance of the Green Bottles

This is Part 2. To start at the beginning, go to Part 1: Worlds Collide.
Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,
Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,
And if one green bottle should accidentally fall,
There'll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall...
From the moment the marshals flagged the field away for the 1987 James Hardie 1000, the clock was ticking on most of the cars. Many of them would never see the chequered flag – indeed, a surprising number wouldn't even see their first scheduled pit stop. But of course, not many in the crowd understood those anyway these days – this year the race was a round of the inaugural World Touring Car Championship, and that meant WTCC rules, including a curious innovation called the Pace Car.

The Pace Car changed everything for Bathurst. Hitherto, once the green flag waved, nothing halted the race until somebody won it; staying out of trouble for the duration was your job. Fuel economy was the biggest concern in the production car era, when treaded road tyres had to be used and those lasted basically forever, which meant some completed the (admittedly shorter) distance with just two stops – which explains why back in the day you could buy a Charger with an enormous 155-litre fuel tank that completely filled up the boot.

Fuel economy, tyre life and sheer speed were the big factors in the equation until 1986, but the addition of a Pace Car shifted those parameters somewhat. Now the skeleton key that unlocked it all was what modern-day commentator Mark Larkham calls the Crucial Lap, the earliest lap at which you could refuel the car and make it to the finish. Exactly which lap that was varied quite a bit in this field, depending on how thirsty each car was – the Sierras were expected to run stints of 35-37 laps, the Commodores and Skylines more like 40-42, and the economical BMWs to run stints of up to 50 laps if they were cautious. It would take a brave strategist to try it, however – although it had nearly worked at Sandown, Sandown's added twists and turns now made it very unlike the fast and flowing Mount Panorama, where you spent much more of the lap at full throttle. Sandown was no longer a true preview of what to expect in the Great Race: nevertheless, over the distance the BMWs could expect to make one less pit stop than everyone else. With pit stops taking 35-40 seconds in those days, that meant the BMWs could effectively give away a quarter of a second per lap and still come out ahead – something for the other drivers to bear in mind as they checked their pit boards.

Added into that of course was the requirement that the co-drivers each drive at least a third of the race distance – a minimum 54 laps – which was a bit of a headache to those whose co-drivers weren't really of the same grade as the prime drivers. The #35 Miedecke/Smith Oxo Supercube Sierra was a prime example of this: Andrew Miedecke, with his open-wheel and sportscar experience, was capable of running seconds a lap faster than Don Smith, and Smith knew it. Knowing when to put Smith in the car to minimise the penalty of his mandatory 54 laps would all be part of the strategic game today; again, the European teams had a big advantage, since most of their drivers were full-time professionals anyway. There would be no 54-lap penalty in getting Klaus Ludwig out of the car and putting in Klaus Niedzwiedz in instead.

And as for the weather, well, the gods only knew. For the race strategists, Bathurst 1987 would be like a military campaign – they had to have a plan, but they had to be ready to abandon it in at a moment's notice.


They See No Rollin', They Hatin'...
For all the fuss about the new Pace Car, it stayed resolutely in pit lane when start time came around. Despite furious begging, cajoling, threats and bribery, the Europeans didn't get their longed-for rolling start. No doubt they saw this as a cynical attempt to cripple some high-geared European entrants right at the start, and throw the race to an Australian – which, let's be honest, it probably was. If there was an opportunity to cite "tradition" and throw the locals a bone, you'd take it too. Nevertheless, the 2 minute board was shown, then the 1-minute board, then the starter held up ten fingers to signal 10 seconds to start; the revs rose to a 43-car crescendo as the Australian flag was lifted, then suddenly flung downwards. The race began.

The Commodores all made quick starts, but the Sierras rather less so, most of all the #7 of Klaus Niedzwiedz, who deliberately made a slow start to preserve his suspect diff. Yes, I rolled my eyes at the "deliberately" part too, but one of the British commentators later revealed he'd informed them he'd be doing that before the race, so I can only suppose it really was intentional and not just a poor start. Niedzwiedz it seems was the team tortoise, leaving team hare duties to the sister car of Steve Soper.

And indeed, as they stormed up Mountain Straight for the first time, Soper was on the charge, passing the orange Commodore of Allan Grice over the hump, with Perkins and Brock right behind. But leading the field up the mountain for the first time was Andy Rouse, with Andrew Miedecke chasing hard. Rouse had the distinction of leading all the way around lap 1, but down into Murray's Soper put a move on Miedecke, cleanly depriving him of track position for the final turn and so not needing to push his brake pedal too hard. The next 25 laps were the familiar sight (to British fans) of Soper and Rouse going at it hammer-and-tongs for the race lead, the pair swapping the lead back every few laps, with a small gap to Miedecke who was hell-bent on catching them up.


The body language of the cars was at odds with the stopwatch, however, as although there was every sign they were milking the cars for all they were worth, the lap times were only in the low 24s or high 23s – some eight seconds behind Ludwig's pole time. That was silent confirmation of what both Rouse and Miedecke would be telling us later in the day, that this was a pace that was expected to carry the Sierras right the way through the full distance – incredible, given they were already pulling a huge gap on the rest of the field.



But while it was all looking rosy for the Poms, it was already going horribly wrong for the Aussies. Heading into The Cutting on lap 2, Neville Crichton in the #18 Shell Sierra tripped over Larry Perkins in the #11 Enzed Commodore, pushing them both into spins that scuffed the concrete retaining wall – hard enough to lift the wheels off the ground. When he came back to the pits for a chat with one of Channel Seven's on-the-spot interviewers, Perkins was understandably less than happy.
Larry Perkins: Well... I was driving along quite merrily, and Neville Crichton in Dicky Johnson's car appeared to have enormous brain fade and hit me in the rear quarter at a hell of a velocity, and put me into the fence and he went with me.

Richard Hay: For the man who’s had the most consistent Commodore all season you must be very disappointed?

Larry Perkins: Exceptionally disappointed. I've been to Bathurst [for the] tenth time. Managed to keep out of all the hassles, never bent a panel, and to get taken out in someone else's... I think, just sheer stupidity is... uh, it’s so disappointing.
In one of those "not even on a dare nowadays" moments, the marshals simply pushed both cars against the walls and considered them out of the way. Never mind that they’d just turned The Cutting into a makeshift chicane...



In truth, it was a bad start to the day for Johnson too, but it was about to get worse: only a lap after Crichton hit Perkins, the #17 car with Johnson himself at the wheel crawled to a halt between Sulman and McPhillamy with a broken diff. Johnson confirmed: "That was the worst Bathurst we ever had."
Shell had so many customers there... to spend the next six hours with them trying to pacify the situation in Year One of a contract – it was a long day in hell, I can tell you. – Dick Johnson, Dick Johnson Racing: 30-Year Anniversary
Indeed, the TV footage showed him staying with his car at the top of the hill for quite a while afterwards, in no hurry to face the music at the bottom...

On lap 11, soon after, Graeme Crosby was in the pits for what was "looking like an extended stay," the #21 D.F.C. Commodore having lost oil pressure. On the same lap, Colin Bond was seen lifting the bonnet of his Caltex Alfa Romeo, not in the pits but halfway up Mountain Straight, having found a nice driveway before the hump that he could use as a makeshift pit bay. At first it was speculated to be a gearbox problem, but when Bondy got it going again he brought it back to the pits, on what was lap 13 for the leaders.
Peter McKay: Colin Bond, very bad luck, into the pits at this stage of the race, what's the problem?

Colin Bond: It's got a flat battery, that's the only problem at present. The alternator's not charging and the computer system just stops the car, and I looked at it and the volts were way down, I just let it stay for a while, and then finally it started, and then it just kept cutting out and kept turning on and off, and just had enough power in the battery to get back. I think that if they change the alternator and the battery, everything's gonna be fine again.

Peter McKay: I've just looked at the tyre that's come off the front-right of the Caltex Alfa, it's very badly chopped up. What's the problem there?

Colin Bond: [laughing] It had a wobble!
Yes, Bondy laughed, and honestly what else could he do? His car would rejoin soon, but he'd lose so many laps in the meantime that all hope of a result was already gone. He'd won this race for the first and only time way back in 1969, and then never again since, despite driving for some of the biggest and best teams in the country. Bond, who'd never gained as much silverware on tarmac as he had in rallying, had no illusions about the nature of this game. So yes, he laughed.

But if the race so far was an anthem of catastrophe for the Australians, at least it wasn't a paean of triumph for some of the Europeans either. At the end of the parade lap, BMW had brought two of their cars – the #43 Bigazzi car of Heger/Grouillard, and the #46 Schnitzer car of Ravaglia/Pirro – back in to start from pit lane. This would force them to wait until the peloton had cleared the pit exit, but it would give them the luxury of making nice gentle starts, again seemingly thinking of preserving their high-geared drivelines. If that was so it was just as well, as by lap 12 the #40 BMW of Ravaglia/Pirro, the other Schnitzer car, was in the pits with its bonnet up, mechanics crawling all over it and disconnecting plugs, suggesting it was an ignition problem. This was swiftly confirmed by Hay.
Richard Hay: The problem with the car at the moment is that they’ve brought the car in with a misfire. It’s not been a good day for the works BMW team so far. The #46 car came in earlier on, which is the car which that was repaired after it was written off by the TAFE guys. The TAFE guys repaired it, it came in though with bodywork rubbing on the wheels, the wheel arches had to be hammered out which is a problem they had before the start of the race as well. This car’s come in, it’s got some damage on it as well but it’s also come in with a misfire. That’s the problem here at the moment. You might have wondered why the little Nissan Gazelle stopped earlier on – apparently it was overheating. Perhaps Neil Crompton can explain to me why you should stop a car that was overheating and not bring it straight back to the pits?

Neil Crompton: I don’t know, I’ve never stopped...

Mike Raymond: He drives them until they stop!
Given their JPS stablemate Jim Richards had just passed Johnny Cecotto to become the highest-placed BMW driver, it was already looking like a long afternoon for BMW. But the ensuing struggle between BMW and Nissan soon provided some welcome entertainment – Glenn Seton was really hustling his Skyline, with its awkward handling and horribly vague recirculating ball steering and frightening tendency to get light over the hump on Conrod. As they skirted Cecotto's #42 CiBiEmme BMW, Richo and the Peter Jackson Skylines were fighting for 7th, 8th and 9th – a sign of how far the field had moved on since last year, when the Nissans had been the pacesetters.


Into Hell Corner Seton had a buttock-puckering moment, the back end letting go and forcing him to get all crossed up to save it – but save it he did, and immediately got back to chasing Richards. It took another full lap, but eventually Seton got Richards lined up just right, swooping through on the inside at Griffin’s Bend. Seeing an opportunity, Fury likewise put the move on Richards, but this time Richo wasn’t so accommodating. Up the short chute to The Cutting they were side by side, Fury’s inside line converted to an unfortunate outside line. And then as they swung through The Cutting they were side by side, and up the steep climb to Reid Park the Skyline finally got past to take the place – but the speed of the black BMW had the commentators gasping. That little 2.3 four-banger very nearly had the torque to shove that light chassis up the hill as fast as the turbo-boosted Skyline!



So that promoted Seton to 7th and Fury to 8th, while dropping Richards back to 9th, with Cecotto remaining a hapless 10th. Niedzwiedz, meanwhile, was past Allan Grice on lap 20 and up to 4th place – not bad when he’d dropped to 14th with his slow start.

But then the next casualty was the #22 Lusty Commodore, which arrived in Forrest’s Elbow way too fast, got out of shape under braking and slammed into the earthen bank (as the commentators said, for the second time in two days). In another "hadn't they invented safety yet?" touch, the orange VK was simply left to sit there under green flag running, as it was off the racing line and therefore, so the marshals thought, out of everyone’s way – even though the braking for Forrest’s was taken while pointed straight at it.

On lap 27, New Zealand's Graeme Bowkett came into the pits and parked the Team Nissan NZ Skyline in its pit bay. The mechanics lifted the bonnet and the commentators started speculating that Kent Baigent probably wasn't going to get a drive today, which seemed confirmed when they pushed the car back into the new pit garage. In fact the car would rejoin later, but multiple laps down and well out of contention. The #24 Skyline was effectively done for the day.

By lap 22, however, the Sierra threesome at the front had become a straight one-on-one as Rouse's ANZ Sierra lost boost and dropped out of the fight between Miedecke and Soper. As Rouse dropped back to create a 7-second-and-growing gap to the leaders, Miedecke was fighting hard – and then he passed Soper on the pit straight, to lead the Great Race for Australia. It didn’t last, of course, the two destined to swap the lead continuously for the rest of this stint, but what a performance it was for the man from Port Macquarie! The pace was so hot that by lap 32, they were lapping Peter McLeod in the #10 Mobil Commodore. In fact, by this stage of the race, barely an hour in, there were already only ten vehicles on the lead lap.


But on lap 33, disaster, as Andy Rouse abruptly slowed on pit straight. Since it was his job, Richard Hay took a running jump into the lion's den to interview a sour-faced Allan Moffat.
Richard Hay: Allan, have you any idea what the problem is with the car at the moment?

Allan Moffat: Well I think to stop so suddenly it would have to be in the transmission or the diff, but until Andy gets back we won't be certain.

Richard Hay: That's fairly serious then, it looks as though the car might not go out again today?

Allan Moffat: Well we can't get it in. You have to be able to get it back to work on it and you’re not allowed... Andy’s not going to change the transmission by himself. I’m afraid it's the end of the day for our ANZ car today.
It took a few laps for Andy to complete his walk of shame back to the garages. When he got there, Crompo took interview duties.
Neil Crompton: I have Andy with me at the moment in our pit studio, and as you know the ANZ Ford Sierra was performing literally flawlessly, it was going great guns. And then all of a sudden, Andy, you just lost a couple of hundred revs on the straight and things started to degenerate from there?

Andy Rouse: That's right, we lost a bit of straightline speed because the turbo boost had lowered itself for some reason. That was alright, I was going quite nicely and we didn't want to be going too hard anyway. But then coming around the corner onto the pit straight, suddenly a big bang and there's no drive, so the transmission has broken somewhere. It's always been a worry for us, that particular thing, and this track's very hard on the transmission, a lot of low-gear work and over bumps, and I'm afraid it's taken its toll.

Crompton: So what does that lead you to think about later this afternoon, with your opposition – say for example the Eggenberger cars? Are they going to be in the same sort of boat?

Rouse: Well they're certainly subject to the same sort of risk. They probably realise now that it's more of a problem than perhaps they thought in the first place, so they'll probably learn from what's happened to us I think.

Crompton: The sort of pace that you were running early on was around about 23s and low 24s. It’s considerably slower quite obviously than your qualifying setup, but was that a pace that was designed to take you right through one-thousand kays?

Rouse: That’s right, we planned to run 23s and 24s as long as everything was good, but with the drop in boost of course that slowed us down – over a second. It changed the handling of the car a little bit, but I was happy enough, you know we could've just fixed the boost as soon as I came in for the pit stop. But unfortunately we didn’t get that far.
In later days, Moffat told the story a little differently.
In 1987 I was at the start of my ANZ association and I hired Andy Rouse and his whole team. The Englishman started the race and I never had to worry about getting into the car. The gearbox blew up before I got a chance.

After the race I told my chief mechanic Mick Webb to get the Rouse guys on the booze and find out why the car had stopped. When he told me what it was I told them all to get out of my sight. It was a goddamn Spa 24-hour gearbox with more like 36 hours on it. I was never so incensed about anyone in my life, considering what it had cost to bring his team to Bathurst. – Allan Moffat, AMC #78/79
As was pointed out in Part 1, the car Moffat had leased – the one he'd brought over on the understanding that it would remain here and become his ride for 1988 – was was chassis number ARE RSC 0587. This was the car that had raced at Spa as the #17 of Alain Semoulin/Thierry Tassin/Jésus Pareja, which had finished the full 24 hours with 464 laps completed. Rouse's own car, the #8, had suffered a rim failure about halfway through and ended up in the weeds, which ironically would've made it the better buy. In other words, when approached by a driver with deep pockets looking for a Sierra to drive next year, Rouse had made sure to load it up with junk parts that were already well past their lifespan. Andy Rouse now had the privilege of screwing over both of Ford's hero drivers in Australia.

Keep walking, mate.

In the background, while the ANZ team were looking anguished, Peter Brock also quietly pitted from 6th place. The car was given fuel and tyres, and co-driver David "Skippy" Parsons climbed in for his first stint. This was about 7 laps early by the pit strategies, so something was up there, and the commentators spent a little time wondering aloud what it could be.

A lap later and the #10 Mobil Commodore also pitted for service, rejoining with Peter McLeod still at the wheel. The TV cameras then swung back to show Andrew Miedecke still leading the race, but he was driving through a cloud of smoke – smoke coming from Skippy Parsons in the #05 Mobil Commodore! Something had clearly gone catastrophically wrong, and Skip did what he could, limping back to the pits at an agonising pace so the mechanics could look it over. They squirted some oil in the top and generally fussed around with it, but then one of them reached in and unplugged Skippy's radio headset, and unbuckled his harness, and then Skippy climbed out as the car was pushed to the back of the garage. His time at the wheel had lasted just 2 laps.
Neil Crompton: The situation with David, he came into the car, he was only there for a couple of laps. Peter came in, I think, about one hour and ten minutes into the race, and it was about 7 laps early. Skip, what happened?

David Parsons: Well, I believe that we ran a bit short on fuel, that's the message that we got back in the pits there, so it was a bit of a rushed driver change. I slid into the car and off I went. Which it wasn't any problem, all the temperatures and everything else was fine, but the car didn't seem to be pulling quite the same sort of revs it was earlier on the Saturday afternoon. Got up through The Cutting there and I noticed her getting slower and slower and what have you. And I came out of The Cutting there, and there was a hell of a rattle and a heap of smoke and it was all over.

Crompton: No idea what the problem was? Is it a crank, rockers, or what?

Parsons: Well, I'd nearly say it was bearings. Bearings I'd say, by the rattle in it.

Crompton: Alright mate, that's a bit of bad luck.
Speaking to Motorsport News ten years later, Brock revealed it had actually snapped a conrod in half. No matter, either way the car that had been given all the TLC had died barely an hour in, leaving the one made of pot luck leftovers the only one still running.

The following lap saw Miedecke and Soper make their first stops, both the race leaders at the same time! Pierre Dieudonné took the helm of the #6 Texaco Sierra from Soper, but Miedecke stayed in the cockpit of the #35, where he was interviewed (very briefly) by Channel Seven.
Peter McKay: Great to see an Australian up there at the head of the race. How's it going, okay?

Andrew Miedecke: No problems at all. We've just had the alternator light come on but I'm hoping that’s not too serious. So everything else is doing it comfortably – tyres are good, brakes are good, engine's running beautifully.

Peter McKay: Thanks, mate.
Grice likewise was heading for the pits, seemingly in dire straits as well, the gauges clearly showing diff and gearbox temps about as high as the gauges could go, and a few laps later the "Low Water" light started flashing as well. The diagnosis that the car was about to retire seemed confirmed when, on the way down Conrod, Grice started unbuckling his seatbelts – yet when he arrived in pit lane, Win Percy was suited up and ready to go.
Richard Hay: Win Percy is standing right alongside the car, dives into it. Gricey out, Percy in – all four wheels and tyres being changed again, they’re going all over the place. The Bowkett Nissan, incidentally, has just left the pits once again, that was gearbox problems with that car. But Gricey strapping Win into the car, and it's interesting to note that all of these cars have come in early, they’re all about 4 laps early. We were told Gricey would come in at 40 laps. The car's started up again, straight out of the pits, and maybe that wasn’t the quickest of pit stops but certainly everything got done okay and they didn’t seem to be any other problems other than the fact that it needed fuel and tyres.
Later, with Gricey miked up and free to talk, Neil Crompton took a moment to ask whether the car was genuinely in such bad shape.
Crompton: Now the situation with your car, we were looking earlier on at some fairly graphic shots on Seven's Bob Jane RaceCam. We saw some needles that were hanging up there in the red and I understand you were getting a Low Water light. But somewhere along the line, the computation isn't right?

Grice: Yeah that's right. The needle that’s in the red is the gearbox temperature – that's not unusual, because a race like this we start with a brand-new box with tight clearances, new bearings, etc. And it's not unusual the temperature starts high and as the race goes on the temperature comes down. The water temperature light, the Low Water light on the left that you saw flashing, that indicates that the water level in the head is low. But the water temperature is not high. So the only thing we can put it down to is a faulty connection.
As Percy swooped through the Chase to complete his outlap, Winni Vogt had his arm out the window of the #43 Bigazzi BMW, which was moving awfully slowly. Vogt was this year's European Touring Car Champion with Germany's Linder Rennsport team, but even the best seemingly weren't immune to BMW's troubles. The mechanics fuelled and tyred the car out of hope more than expectation, and then one of them shoved a couple of spare wheels underneath in case the air jacks gave way, then crawled bodily underneath to have a look – clearly something serious had gone wrong, surprising when this was one of the cars that had started from pit lane. It was still there 15 minutes later, and although it did eventually rejoin, it was multiple laps in arrears.

More pit stops came and went: the #15 Skyline of Glenn Seton had taken service on lap 35, with the #30 George Fury following a lap later, handing the car over to Terry Shiel rather than double-stinting like Seton. Then the #7 of Niedzwiedz also took service, likewise electing to hand over to Klaus Ludwig. Then, on lap 37, the #32 Commodore of Warren Cullen took a hit to its passenger-side door in Hell Corner courtesy of an over-eager Peter Jackson Nissan, tipping it into a spin that ended on the dirt just past the pit exit. That was game over for this embattled Commodore, as the shunt seemingly damaged something crucial. By lap 44 only the trio of leading Sierras were still on the lead lap, Ludwig ahead of Miedecke and Dieudonné. Best of the rest were Win Percy in the #2 VL and Jim Richards in the #44 M3, highest-placed of the BMWs, which would've put the ghost of a smile on Frank Gardner's stony face – but even so, they were a lap down.

And then, during the next commercial break, it happened – a steaming and crumpled Caltex Alfa Romeo was suddenly sitting in The Esses, having crunched the wall on lap 47. Erstwhile driver Lucio Cesario was seen making a sharp exit over the tyre bundles; the replay revealed Cesario had badly overcooked it into The Dipper, missing his braking point and virtually launching the car over the kerbs and sand trap. There was nothing he could do from there, as steering and brakes only work when the wheels are on the ground. The car was damaged badly enough to miss the Calder Park round the following week, but Cesario had already managed his bid for Bathurst immortality: "Cesario's crash triggered the first use of a Safety Car at Bathurst!" quipped Colin Bond years later.


Yep, there was no question about it now – Cesario had blocked half the track. It was at last time to summon the Pace Car. When it appeared, it was just a white Nissan SVD Skyline Silhouette R31, a more recent model than the one Seton and Fury were racing featuring sideskirts and a rear wing they surely must've envied. It also featured the mandatory flashing orange lights, and behind the wheel, 1976 race winner Bob Morris. This was where the trouble really started, because Bathurst had never seen a Pace Car before, and our inexperience with it would shortly be revealed – inexperience on the part of Race Control as much as the drivers.

A peculiarity of FISA's rules was that anyone who came in for a yellow-flag pit stop would actually find the pit exit closed to them, with a crew of marshals and a chain blocking the way, like the bouncers and velvet rope outside a nightclub. The idea was that, since the Pace Car meant the track was blocked, the drivers would have to wait for the train of cars to pass them by and then join sedately on the end, rather than exiting whenever they felt like it and tear-arsing around the track until they caught up. It was a typically opaque FISA way of doing things, so we were lucky Channel Seven had a microphone in front of Grice so he could explain it for us.
Neil Crompton: I think it's now time, Allan Grice, where your international experience will come to the fore. We've seen a situation where the yellow flag has come out and in some cases there's been a misunderstanding in the interpretation of the rules.

Allan Grice: Yes, there are two Pace Car techniques in different forms of racing in the world. One is the NASCAR Pace Car system whereby you can rush into the pits and get back on, as long as the Pace Car hasn't gone past you, you can catch up to the field and not lose a lap. But the FISA interpretation of Pace Car rules differs, as do all of their interpretations, and in this instance if you come into the pits you lose a lap because you're not allowed to rejoin and catch the field. So it means if you come into the pits, you have to wait until the Pace Car does a complete lap and of course you lose a lap. We lost a lap the same way at Spa in the 24 Hour race with the works BMWs, just missed getting out and, well, you lose a lap.
This led to scenes like the #42 BMW – now with Brancatelli at the wheel, Cecotto having handed it over – at the head of a queue of cars at the end of pit lane, waiting for the Pace Car to trundle by. Adding to the absurdity, the Ratcliff Transport team's pit box was at the very end of the lane, requiring them to push their car backwards so it could line up behind the #60 Nissan Gazelle of Grant Jarrett, who was waiting behind the Brancatelli BMW.


The marshals took advantage of the break to remove the crashed Crichton Sierra from The Cutting, although they left Perkins' Enzed Commodore where it was. But while they were busy, Andrew Miedecke bombed into the pits for fuel, tyres and a handover to Don Smith. It was a quick stop, just over 30 seconds, and if it'd been under green flag conditions they would've done themselves proud. But they weren't under green flag conditions: Don charged back into the fast lane, only to find the way blocked by that immobile queue of cars. Miedecke came trotting down the lane and stuck his head in the window to explain the situation, and since the car had only covered 15 laps since its last stop – less than half a stint – there was a lot of explaining to do. The lad from Port Macquarie had stuffed up badly. Before long, Crompton had a chat with a dejected – hell, completely gutted – Andrew Miedecke.
Neil Crompton: Andrew, there seems to've been some confusion. Gricey helped us out in explaining the situation, but it seems as if sitting in the pits was a chronically bad thing to do?

Andrew Miedecke: Yeah, I must say it looks like I've made a mistake. I've done very little in long-distance racing, the only racing I've done is Group C sportscars with John Fitzpatrick. And in that you dive in when the Pace Car's out and you can join on again at the tail, just like the way they do it in the States, and that's what I expected to be able to do. I couldn't believe that everybody else wasn't doing the same thing.

Crompton: I think your car is back in Position 11 at this stage, do you think in any way, shape or form the situation is retrievable?

Miedecke: Well, we can only try. The speed that we were going was very very comfortable for both me and the car. I think I can – well, I know I can go a bit harder, and as soon as we've got Don over with his statutory third of the race, I'll be going like buggery.
To be fair to Miedecke, Bathurst was a longer track than most of those on the WTCC and ETCC tours – the only longer one was Spa. And at circuits as long as Spa, they'd have two or even three Pace Cars standing by, so the rule made a little more sense as you generally wouldn't lose whole laps. But Australia wasn't that experienced with such things, so although there were two, maybe three Pace Cars standing by, Race Control only ever used one at a time. Like a shadow puppet projected on an unfamiliar surface, European methods were producing some unexpected results when applied to Australia. Bathurst had popped its Pace Car cherry, but it had dialled Australia's best hope out of contention in the process.

Not that the Europeans were all benefitting. The  #47 BMW of Anette Meeuvissen was seen stopped beside the track, sitting in an open gate on the outside of Griffin's Bend. Apparently Meeuvissen had stalled after trying to make it through the Pace Car laps without refuelling. But the cherry on top of the fiasco pie was that the race abruptly and without warning rotated back to green-flag running, catching everyone napping. Channel Seven was deep in its Q&A with Grice,and the footage clearly showed the Pace Car (and the field) going past behind Gricey as he was saying the words "NASCAR Pace Car," with the lights clearly on – and yet by the time he was finishing talking about his warning lights, the race was back to green!

There was no indication from the broadcast as to what had gone wrong, but the sequence of events apparently went a bit like this: Race Control had radioed Morris to switch the lights off and complete his final lap without them, and this was done, but when Cecotto in the CiBiEmme BMW saw the lights go out he immediately planted his foot and passed Morris, earning himself a three-minute penalty. Unfortunately, a turbo hose then blew off on the Pace Car as it came up through The Cutting, forcing Morris to pull over and clear it. The Clerk of the Course assessed the situation and instructed all marshals to go to green. The procedure, which had been drilled into the drivers several times over during the pre-race briefings, had been undone by a simple mechanical fault.

It was time for some levity, and we got it with one of the funniest exchanges ever seen in a Bathurst broadcast – Allan Grice telling his co-driver to get a bloody move on already.


If you can't watch the video, the full exchange went something like this:
Crompton: Well Gricey, the situation now is that the Pace Car has moved away and the race is back on. Would you at all like to have a chat with Win, because we could probably arrange it for you through our Bob Jane RaceCam?

Grice: Yeah, I guess? It’ll take him a lap though to get back in the swing of things, he’s now got to get the car straight back up to race speed and try and stay with those Fords. Unfortunately the Sierras, with the enormous amount of grunt they’ve got in a straight line, it makes it easier for them to pass the cars.

Crompton: Nevertheless, you must be really thrilled at the performance of the car, you’re up to 3rd, the car was the short-wheelbase version as little as 24 hours ago. It’s flying!

Grice: Yeah there’s nothing wrong with the motor car. Obviously that blinking light’s a worry but we can only put it down to a faulty connection.

Crompton: Well let’s ask the man himself. Win Percy, what’s the situation at the moment?

Win Percy: Well I believe the situation is that we should stay behind the file for one lap after the flashing lights go out. Your guys are now displaying green flags. I don’t really want to take the risk of overtaking, that’s the problem.

Grice: Yeah, green flags has gotta mean “Go” though, Win.

Percy: ...You sure?

Grice: Yes sir.

Percy: Okay. I’m going.

Mike Raymond: Go for it, Winny!

Crompton: Well that’s the best cue I’ve ever seen. When the boss says go for it, you can get stuck into it.
And indeed the RaceCam showed Percy overhaul the white #19 Canam Commodore down Conrod. "Green flags mean 'Go' in any book in the world," muttered Grice as the race got back underway.

With the race back on both JPS BMWs made pit stops – first Francevic, handing over to the team's engine man Ludwig Finauer, then Richards to hand over to Longhurst – so close they almost ran into each other in the pit box. But they’d got about 50 laps done, not a bad stretch from the fuel tank, admittedly helped by the Pace Car, but the Meeuvissen car proved it hadn't been guaranteed. The JPS cars might've been giving away 10 kW to the European cars, but they got it back at the pump.

But the stop went wrong, taking a full 50 seconds as the bonnet was briefly lifted for some oil to be squirted in – and then, just like at Sandown, the car refused to fire up again. The boot lid was then lifted for the mechanics to stuff around with the fuel tank. "Well they’re trying to break the dry-break system,” said Grice in the measured tones of a man watching a team for whom he nursed an old grudge drop the ball. "Maybe they're thinking they've pressurised the system and it's flooding the engine." The mechanics attached a vent bottle, and then someone physically stuck their hand into the pipe and pressed on the valve, letting fuel come gushing back out. They put a plastic office container underneath in a token effort to contain the spill, but there was no getting away from the fact that they were pouring fuel all over pit lane, which gives the servo attendant in me the shivers – said mechanic didn’t even have gloves on, let alone a fire-proof suit! One of the rubber fuel lines was disconnected and someone blew into it to try and clear the system, while others were busy tipping soapy water all over the ground to dilute the spilled fuel – a sensible idea, but it was going to make their pit box awfully slippery next time. Just for once, Frank Gardner’s JPS Team BMW looked something less than slick and professional. It took nearly two minutes, but Longhurst eventually rejoined the race, chastened but only a single lap lost.

Source

By lap 57 there were only 36 cars still in the race, and only 3 were on the lead lap – the two Eggenberger Sierras, and Win Percy in the Bob Jane T-Marts Commodore, the Whinging Pom now assuming the role of Australia's Great Hope. 4th and 5th were the Peter Jackson Nissans, Bowe ahead of Shiel, but a lap down. Lap 60 saw Dieudonné bring the #6 Texaco car back to the pits for fuel, four new tyres, but no driver change. They'd planned 36-37 lap stints out of it, but under race conditions 30 was seemingly all it could do. By chance he rejoined right in front of the hapless Don Smith in the #35 car – who immediately passed him up Mountain Straight.

That must’ve been a slight balm to Miedecke’s wounds, but the respite was only temporary. On lap 68 Smith pitted the Oxo Sierra and climbed out. Miedecke didn't even have his helmet on when he pulled up, so clearly it wasn't a planned stop – and sure enough, the hinted-at alternator problem had reared its ugly head, and the engine was now misfiring. After some patching from the mechanics, Miedecke took over the car and rejoined, but that was yet another tactical error from the Oxo team, as Smith had not yet completed his mandatory third of the race and would have to do another stint. But with the alternator on the blink and retirement staring him in the face, it was doubtful Miedecke cared much right at this moment.

Win Percy made a scheduled stop on lap 74 – stayed in the car, fuel and tyres – but the team made no attempt to check the water, so clearly they weren't too worried. It was a very quick stop, and Percy returned to the groove almost as if he'd never left it, albeit in 3rd rather than 2nd. The onboard shots as he rounded the blind turns across the Mountain's brow were just stunning, the unearthly grip of a racing car (even one based on a common shopping trolley!) set to the soundtrack of that trumpeting Holden V8. The affection might not've been returned, but all the European drivers (or at least the ones who hadn't seen it already) were falling in love with the Mountain that day. Such is the way of racing drivers when you show them fast corners, elevation changes, and what Peter Brock always called, "a track with consequences."

Ah yes, Brocky; he'd last been seen on lap 62. The #10 Mobil Commodore had come it for its scheduled service and, as he and Perkins had done in 1983, Brock and Parsons took advantage of the cross-entry rules to commandeer the surviving car. Peter McLeod was turfed as Brock himself climbed aboard for the next stint, and although it would be a cliche to say he had a steely look in his eyes as he left the pit bay (you can't see much else when they're in a helmet, after all), there was definitely something behind those eyes as he rejoined in 10th. Of course, for them it was only lap 60, being two laps down, but you could never quite discount Brock when he had a bee under his bonnet.


And there was still the question of the weather. All day it had been chilly and overcast, and the stiff flags and shaking cameras gave away that there was a stern westerly blowing. For those in the know, that was a sign, as the weather in this part of the world comes from the west. Moisture got hoovered up from the Southern Ocean, crossed the Bight and completed a great arc from Adelaide right the way across to the east coast, blessing the farmers with everything from light sprinkles to walls of thunderstorms that would do the American Midwest proud.

The west wind was blowing, there was weather coming, and this race was only half over.

Concluded in Part 3: The Heavens Open

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