Magazine Issue 1.pdf - SEATCupra.net

By Mike Smith
‘Ten more minutes’ I thought as I pressed the snooze button on my alarm.
Half past three is early by any
standards, and with a three hour
drive ahead, the thought of actually
getting up was getting less
appealing. After hauling myself out
of bed, getting showered and
dressed, I went to see if my freshly
polished paintwork had been
vandalised during the night by the
local Albatross. Luckily, my early
start was too early for that early
bird and my car had escaped its ritual dirtying for a change.
Meeting at Towcester services, we turned into the car park, full of neatly
parked SEATs with time to spare, enough to enjoy a welcome “Maccy D”
breakfast. Dave and John gathered everyone up to hand out tickets and
parking passes. We had twenty passes and twenty one (or twenty two
depending on who counted) cars. Somehow everyone managed to get a
pass, causing a puzzle which no doubt no-one has solved yet. With the
formalities dealt with, we started the short journey onwards, in procession
to hallowed Silverstone circuit.
The trek from the entrance to where our stand was situated was a slow
crawl. Passing through the tunnel leading into the inner grounds of the
circuit caused some excitement to many a Nova driver, deciding to show
their joy to all by sounding their horn, and echoing the sound of their Peco
Big Bore’s off the tunnel walls. Reaching the stand was met by probably
the same reaction as all of us – “how the hell are we going to fit twenty
cars in here”? With careful parking and
much debating on colour coordination, the
stand was ready and people could begin
the chore of cleaning their car.
TRAX 2001TRAX 2001 REPORT 1
With my car gleaming, a couple of us
decided to take a tour of what lay beyond
our little stand. The club stand area
seemed awash with Vauxhalls and Fords,
with little deviation. Reaching the main
trade area, magazine stands dominated
the section with many a familiar car parked
in front of them. Some of the cars that I
had previously idolised were disappointing
yet other looking even more appealing in
the flesh. Its amazing what photography
can do for you motor, I guess cars can be
photogenic too!
After paying a small fortune for a burger and a
coke we headed back to the stand. Luckily, I
mean unfortunately, we had already eaten as
the barbeque was in full swing, bellowing
smoke over the shiny paintwork of nearby cars.
My dad started begging me to take his newly
AmD chipped 20VT Ibiza up the 0-60 sprint,
who was I to disappoint? With the tickets sorted
and the shuffling of cars, I was in the queue and
the nerves setting in.
My dad had set a target of getting a sub seven
time, I was planning on using the old “I’m not used to this car” as my back up if I failed.
Not long after, it was me up next, and the Corvette in front of me had just done a blistering
5.4, struggling to put traction down. I rolled up to the starting point, traction control off.
Waiting for the green light I held the revs at 5500rpm. Lights turning to green, I dumped
the clutch to nothing. Using the same technique for a good start in my 16v clearly didn’t
work, as me and the car sat there taking months off the tyre tread. Seven and half
seconds was the best I managed this time. I had three tickets left. After another half-hour
queue, I was up again. I thought I’d try it with traction control this time. Revs held at
4500rpm, lights go green and I’m off, I see the traction control light flicker and could feel
the power being cut. I remember seeing six seconds as I passed the display last time, and
sure enough it was six seconds again. I phoned my dad to see what I had this time:
another failure, 7.3. The third run pulled a similar time.
On my last run, I’d started to get a feel for the car and was confident enough to try it with
out traction control again. I pulled up at the lights with considerably less revs this time.
Again I dumped the clutch as the lights changed from red to green and the wheels
immediately started to spin. I lifted off the throttle slightly and was off. The power band
on the car is amazing and completely different to my car. There’s no waiting for the revs
to build to 4000 for that 16v magic. This
time the car feels much faster and I fly
past the display with five seconds
showing. Grinning, I phoned my dad
only to be told I’d managed a 7.1.
Disappointed, I parked the car up and
waited for him. The bugger had lied and
I’d done a 6.78.
The day was getting late and we
decided to have a last wander round before we left for a dreaded journey back up North.
Seeing nothing new, we returned to the club stand to see most of the others had buggered
off without saying bye. Leaving Glyn’s car all alone we made our way out. The journey
home saw the rain downpour, thankful for holding off for so long we made our way up the
M6 with wipers on full speed.
Bring on Trax 2002!