I like plenty about Arica, Chile. The three hundred and sixty five days a year of sunshine, the Lombardi farm, Don Flores and El Morro. What I really like is the race track. Who wouldn’t like a place full of cars going as fast as they can the smell of racing fuel and the glorious noise? All of this happening with the Pacific Ocean in the distance making the scene nearly perfect.
We are at the track on Saturday as Piero tests out the mighty # 99 ahead of tomorrow’s big race. Having grown up in Canada, Pier’s #99 is solely influenced by Wayne Gretzky as some of you may well have guessed. We are soon joined by Aldo and Raul as they too have minor tests and adjustment to make to their own cars. Piero’s youngest son Bruno mimics the Honda’s engine with “drannnn drrannnn....DRRRANNNN” sound. His enthusiasm changes to a yellow caution flag as the Honda roars to life. These things don’t have mufflers. It’s merely a pipe off the header directed out the right hand side under what was once the passenger door. Drannnnn drrrrannnnn indeed.
After a few quick laps Piero is back in his paddock looking over the car. Jokingly I suggest that to be sure I should take the car out as a sort of “second signature”. Piero’s long term memory fails him as he agrees and thinks trading the steering wheel for my camera is a great idea. The last time I was in this car I had a claustrophobic attack that I’m not at all proud of. All the racers were to participate in a parade through downtown Arica and I was riding shotgun. Shortly after Piero fired the car up and announced I couldn’t get out if I wanted to...I had to get out. Upon exiting the car my foot kicked a vital switch rendering the car immobile. As the parade rolled away we were left with the sounds of Piero’s faithful #99 trying desperately to restart. After what seemed like a month, but really 5 minutes, Alan Martinez found the problem and amidst some colourful words Piero took off. As a reward for my screw up Alan handed me an ice cold beer and said something in Spanish which I believe had something to do with staying away from cars.
Despite all that, Piero strapped me in and gave me a quick tutorial on what to do. With my floppy hat strap firmly tightened to my chin for safety I was off. The noise and the acceleration got the better of me as I accelerated out of the pits. I’m sure I was in violation of some track rule that might have got me the black flag. Rocketing down the long straight I work the Honda through the gears in what I perceived as the quickest shifts this car has ever known. Soon the first corner has snuck up on me and I’m down shifting and braking and sweating. For some reason I’m revving the engine as I “think” this is what race car drivers too. Flying through the corners the car feels like a GO-KART. It’s sticky responsive and feels great. Best part of all...NO COPS! Piero standing along the pit wall waves me on and takes photos. I’m having a lot more fun than he is.
Back in the paddock I feel like I’ve just set the track record for fastest lap. This was the first full day of the trip and I’d already done something I’ve never done and it was incredible. The next day Piero and the red #99 would win the day. Very quickly I was there to take full credit as the test pilot who ensured this victory and the subsequent champagne. Draannnnn draaaannnnnnnnnn.
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