It was a long hard winter. The coming of Spring dims winter’s painful memories of vast drifting dunes of snow and huddling in the cold and dark. This is when thoughts of drivers turn to a little airport tucked into a emerald glen in the Western Maryland mountains. Like migratory creatures answering the call of a deep innate cosmic rhythm, we return, year after year. This year’s Cumberland Airport Icebreaker marks the opening of the eighth year of the series. You’d think after that much time of meeting for the singular purpose of zooming around a runway peppered with cones, there would be few surprises, and no real drama. And you’d be wrong.
Yes, there is a sameness; the familiar setting, many of the same good people, a certain similarity in Mark Boggs’ course layouts, the comforting constancy of the Lion’s Club cheeseburgers. But each year brings myriad variations and random factors; new contenders, deployment of experiments conceived and hatched during the long nights of winter, unspoken but bitterly harbored rivalries, the wild vagaries of Cumberland’s micro-climate, the effect of the exotic shooters the night before. All are ingredients of the chaotic confluence that makes the whole show and its outcome unpredictable. That sameness and that randomness is what draws us back. Judging from the startling turns of events at the initial event of the season, this year promises to be the same only in that it will not be the same.
Irrepressible impresario Dave Williams launched CBE into the futureworld of social media with a Facebook page this year. The faithful bonded virtually, and relieved their building anticipation by chattering furiously. There were hints of things to come there. Perennial Cobra Cup champ and multiple FTD winner Wade Chamberlain would cast away his supercharger, and with it, nearly 200 crank horsepower, and replace his fat 275/315 tires with lean 295 A6s mounted on ultralite Enkei wheels at all corners. The Smith Brothers, Doug and Craig, had not spent the winter perfecting cough drops, but fine tuning their raging 411 SBF strokers and superfast Woodward steering racks. Smooth Jim Harris would abandon his sleek black Super Stock ZO6 in favor of an older model red ASP Z06 ‘Vette. The Word was spreading, and we noted a number of entrants from Central Pennsylvania’s active SCCA autox world. Team Ziptie prince Paul P. had strapped some suspension mods on his stalwart 4 lung Beemer. Mr. Personality Larry Casey would be testing some new top end components, hastily installed after he blew up a lifter, rocker and pushrod on a bad shift at Summit Point just a couple weeks ago. Up and coming snake-handlers Barry Knotts in his Backdraft and Dave Thompson in his Lonestar bore watching. The Moran clan and their ever-changing Subie Suxass would surely represent. And your scribe hoped to move up a tick or two with a number of improvements to my steed, the Bottom Dollar Coupe. The pre-season Test and Tune also gave a glimmer, attracting some sharp blades in FS and BSP classes we had not seen before.
With these thoughts in mind, I packed a full day into four hours at work Friday morning, and rushed home to hitch up my tire-toting Conestoga to the BDC. If we could get through a forecast of odds of strong thunderstorms Friday afternoon that kept changing like an OTC betting line, the weekend weather promised, for the first time in years, a precipitation-free Icebreaker. I rolled into the airport shortly before four. The Smith family convoy of trailers was already there, as they unloaded Uncle Sandy’s Saleen, and three well- sorted Superformances. Craig’s sleek silver Cobra bore no scars or body damage from his tire-testing mishap the week before, where he had an unfortunate meeting with a curb at speed by too much Wellie trying to break in a brand new set of overinflated A6s. Instead of scuffing the tires, he scuffed the body and paint. Like a 2000 pound bull male canary looking for a fight, Doug’s bright yellow Superformance brooded quietly in his trailer. Judging from his pre-season TNT performance, Doug was more than ready to challenge the top dogs in XP. Al Paca (aka Captain Crunch aka Pop Pop) rolled up in his Lonestar, making his first autox appearance of the season. Then, we were joined by Wade. We heard only a low rumble, and not the familiar pig-whistle, as he pulled in. Astonished and impressed, we confirmed when he popped his bonnet that, not just unbelted, the Paxton blower was all gone, and that he was truly going au naturale. Sure enough, his trailer sported new 295 A6s mounted on 17 lb. Enkei wheels. Gary Hughes rolled in with Snot Rocket riding cheerily on his open trailer.
Look Ma, No Blower
Enkeis At All Four Corners
Those Puppies Are LightDisplaying his keen Washington lawyer negotiating skills, he had finagled a first heat Saturday hall pass from a busy family weekend. Dave W. greeted us warmly and enthusiastically. The skies darkened as huge thunderheads built in the Western sky. We hightailed it for the CACC field clubhouse, the LaVale BW and Henny’s Bar and Grill.
After covering up our cars, we checked in and quickly repaired to the bar. There, before the pre-race lubrication began, Gary, Crunchy, Wade and your scribe were joined for a very pleasant dinner and a brew by none other than Smooth Jim Harris, himself. He retired genteely after a single flagon of suds. Later, Joe “Mustang Boy” Oxenham, then Paul P. and the lovely and talented Kate joined us, and still later Mike and Jen Moran, which is when the serious quaffing kicked into overdrive. They had Longhammer IPA on tap. Semi-pro beer expert Wade warned me of its relatively high alcohol volume; nearly twice that of the Yeungling he was drinking, and orders of magnitude more than Gary’s favored diluted swill, Coor's Lite. I scoffed. After a few, I felt strangely like a Viking raider, and coined myself a new Icebreaker nickname: Longhammer Lambiotte. It did not stick. It is probably just as well, for a number of reasons. We had shots. I forget what they were, except for Paul handing me the tab for the most expensive round of them. I recall that it finally was raining a little on the short stagger back to the hotel. My wife told me that had had dangerous storms, with hail and lightning in DC. Yet all was peaceful in Cumberland’s sleepy vale.
Saturday dawned and I rolled out to CBE early to get a jump on the tire change. I couldn’t sleep anyway. As the supplicants of speed gathered , it promised to be a good sized field, with many of the familiar faces and machines, and some new threats, to challenge Wade, “Blower Boy’ no more, in his experimental bid to hold his exalted position with less go under his foot than usual.
More CACC drivers straggled in. Larry showed up in his FFR, unencumbered by a tire trailer. He was sporting well seasoned R-888s, preemptively attempting to minimize expectations by reminding anyone who would listen that he was on street tires. Those who did listen and know Larry were unconvinced. Dave Thompson trailered in his Lone Star. Barry Knotts showed, to continue his climb up the XP ranks in his silver Backdraft. Tink Phillips also arrived in his elegant silver-gray Daytona.
Unfortunately, the CACC Cumberland roll call was missing some regular stalwarts. Fast Freddie Kelley got a pass, just this once, because he had not one, but two daughters, graduating on Saturday, and his fatherly presence was required. Pinky Hawkins, and John Ass Fault Hubbell, who both sold their Cobras, did not answer the bell. Completely MIA without any notice or explanation was Wayne “Koi Boy” Orchard, His absence surprised us, as he is one of the truly most faithful Cumberland racers. We hope all is well and this absence was an exception. All were missed, but the Cobra ranks did see the arrival of Charles Armbrust, in a black Contemporary Classics Cobra roadster, running in E Mod with the Snot Rocket of all places.
Boggs’ course was the familiar layout, with a few variations, some more subtle than others. A series of tight turns marked by two right angle boxes, from an offset launch, followed by a fairly open slalom, fed down to the terminal 180, a long straight feeding into left hand jog, then the right hand kink, then a double cone cross over to maintenance hanger, and nice open turnaround, followed by another slalom in front of the bizjet hanger, a little teasing straight terminating abruptly into a cone wall right angle box, followed by a descending radius right hander to the finish.
Chipper and the Snot Rocket set the bar in the first heat. They drove fast and wild initially, and then settled down, giving up speed in the snaky two turn kink to exit at full stick, then trailbraking lightly to carry blinding speed through the fast crossover. He buried the rest of the heat and made E Mod no contest with his best clean of 52 flat. Other first heat highlights include the always fun to watch and constantly improving Mark Liller, who flung his bone stock behemoth Charger RS around with tire-squealing abandon, unfortunately running dirty, and falling prey to the blue GT Musta, who clinched F Stock honors with his 55.5 second pass.
In second heat doings, Matt Felten’s 50.6 sunk Gary’s 52 flat, and painted the target for Wade “Mr. Natural” Chamberlain. TZT’s own Joe “Mustang Boy” Oxenham, in his 97 Cobra Mustang, outpaced Uncle Sandy’s classic Fox body Saleen by three full seconds, to take the ESP class win with his last lap, a 55.5. Jen Moran piloting the tricky Suxass like she owned it, matched that 55.5. Felten and CACC brother Chipper had painted the target for Wade “Mr. Natural” Chamberlain. Given the multisecond gap between theirs and the other solid times from the 1st and 2nd heat fields, there was considerable speculation as to whether he could overcome his self-imposed power handicap.
But before chronicling the outcome, I have to say this. Here’s a guy who has very reason to expect FTDs and class wins every time he straps in. Here’s someone who commands the driving talent and skill to use the phenomenal horsepower and torque the supercharged incarnation of a car he built himself puts to the ground. Whatever the ill-informed and jealous wags may say or think, anyone who drives a short wheelbase, low weight high horsepower beast like a Cobra knows in his heart that not just anyone can “point and shoot” and expect results like The Weasel has racked up over the past few years.
Watching the driving is exciting, even when the results justify a covering scribe’s observations: “another day, another FTD.” But for this guy to announce to all his clubmates and 82 fellow racers, the event sponsors, God, and everyone, that he’s going to leave 200 horsepower on the workbench, and still try to win . . . Well, that sets the stage for some real excitement.
All soon would know whether the secret to Wade’s success could be found in the spinning blades of a Vortech blower. To add to the moment, Doug “Bird” Smith, without a lot of swagger or loose talk, has been quietly preparing an assault on the usual suspects that populate the top ranks of the hotly contested XP class at Cumberland, including such renowned CACC stablemates as Fast Freddie, reigning Cobra Cupholder Mr. Personality Casey, and the Kid himself. A mugging has been imminent since the end of last season. I have a nagging sense that 2010 is Doug’s year, and the Icebreaker was his first chance to prove it in combat. Conditions couldn’t have been better: Wade blowerless, Larry on street tires, and Fast Fred absent. Also this state of play created the potential for upward mobility at all levels of the insanely competitive XP class. As usual, the Cobras faced tough competition from other marques. Last year’s Wade spoiler Greg Honeycutt in his open wheel racer, Jake and Mike Moran in the Suxass Subie, Jeff Duncan in his Ultralite, Smooth Jim in his brazen red Z06 and Daddy John Felten in the family Reynard. The stage was set. The players moved to their places on grid. No outcome could be taken for granted.
The sun was out, and the tarmac was heating up, but the air was a pleasant seventy something and a friendly Spring sun shone down. Wade ‘s lack of forced induction proved no barrier to his slamming the door on Gary and knocking on Felten’s from his very first run, a 51.8 clean. Doug Smith got off to slow start, logging fast but out of league initial and second runs. By the third of six runs, Chamberlain, bothered by cones on the second, overcame the loss of the familiar sudden surge of power by winding up his natural breathing small block tight, bouncing the limiter halfway down the showcase straight, shifting into the kink, and deftly left-foot braking. He dug out an astonishing clean 50.561. That looked like the obvious XP class win, even enough to squeak by Matt Felten for FTD, if it would hold for the day. On the Bird’s fourth, he answered with a blistering 51.8. Wade plagued by cones, did not improve the 50.5, while Doug ran slower until his sixth and final pass, when he give it everything he and his screaming yellow zonker had left, and came in with a 51.3. The expected mugging had happened, but in the bright shineshine of the Cumberland taxiway.
Honeycutt got into spitting distance, and took down Gary, on his fourth try, a 51.8. Jeff Duncan bettered that in his Lotus clone, with a 51.65. Jake Moran had a rough heat, failing to run clean until he pulled out a spotless 52.2. A 52.2 was the best time John Felten mustered as well. Smooth Jim Harris also ran his way into the elite 52 second club, methodically whittling his times down to a 52.63 on his fifth run. Smith Brother Craig “CurbFeeler” moved up a couple notches and into the club, with his very solid 52.86. Casey, on those damnable street tires, also logged a high 52 second run, but unfortunately clipped a pylon, forcing him to stand on a best clean pass of 53.2. And right behind him was West Virginian Barry Knotts, with a 53.4, followed by your scribe, with a 53.7. Tink, having one of those days, ran a best time of 54.1, his fifth run. Next came second season autoxer Dave Thompson, with a 54.5 clean, then Czar Smith, who posted a 55.4, but did contribute half of Doug’s DNA, followed by Captain Crunch, with a 55.7. Ziptie despot Paul P. ran a very respectable 55.7 with less than half the horsepower of his more profligate high carbon footprint friends.
In an all too familiar ritual, Wade sweated out the fourth heat. He still had to get past ever dangerous, and equally cool and calculating, Mike Moran, and the Suxass looked to be running strong in brother Jake and wife Jen’s hands. To cut a long and agonizing story short, and not to dis the accomplishments many great fourth heat drivers, Mike drove like a madman, and clawed his way down to the 51s, finishing with 51.67.
When the dust settled, Wade took FTD of the eighty two car field, and the XP class win. Doug Smith finished in second, and third overall, behind only multiple FTD holder Matt Felten. Mike Moran denied the serpents an all Cobra XP podium, cinching third in XP, and finishing 5th overall. Hughes walked to an E Mod class win and finished seventh overall. Jake Moran got into the top ten with ninth place overall berth. That’s a nice neighborhood. Half a dozen other Cobras finished the first day of the Icebreaker with “above the fold” top twenty five finishes: Craig Smith in 12th, Casey in 15th (on street tires) , Knotts in 17th, your miserable scribe in 20th, Tink in 23rd, and rookie Dave T. in 25th. Smooth Jim finished just outside the top ten in 11th, and an uncontested ASP class win.
After the last run of the day, when the score was tallied, Chamberlain basked in an outpouring of congratulations for his FTD victory. We have been there before for those. But these had a special quality, a touch of new respect tinged with near-disbelief that he had knocked off all comers with about half the customary ponies. Truth be told, I really do not think many people expected him to pull it off. After he had accepted the adulation of adoring fellow racers and fans, and we sipped some victory brew, and asked the Morans to join us at Doc Mike’s picnic. Jen belted into Wade’s now perfectly mannerly roadster, and, followed by the BDC, Curnchy,Larry, and Mike tailgunning, we roared down 68, convoying out to the fete, spattering our paint with a rattling hail of gravel as we left the highway and bombed down the country roads.
The Saturday picnic also had a special feeling this year; nothing exotic on the menu, but a real sense of reunion and fellowship, as old veterans mingled with new faces, swapping lies and exchanging banter on a picture perfect end to another perfectly exciting day. I think Jen came up with the lines of the day, when, in response to someone observing that she had beaten Al, she insouciantly quipped: “Yeah, it usually costs $250 extra for that.” At another point she referred to Mr. Personality as the “Lare Bear.” Right as the sun set, we blasted back to hotel, again in convoy, and I slipped past Wade and Jen, taking point. Miraculously, at the sight of the long low slung hood of the BDC filling their rear view mirrors, all the traffic gave way, parting as if in salute as we glided westward into the glare of the setting sun.
When we returned to Henny’s for a nightcap, burnt, tired but happy, CACCers were in short supply, as Crunchy, feeling poorly, passed, leaving only a slightly stunned looking FTD, and your faithful scribe to support the local economy. Happily, before too long Mustang Boy andMike and Jen appeared, followed by Paul and Kate, and then Andy Thomas and a friend. The mystic ancient power of the Longhammer gave me second wind (I went outside), and before too long we had Andy searching his I phone for likely shots (yeah, there’s an app. for that). The debate took way longer than the drinking, and we only had two. But the second one was a doozy, called “Dirty Bong Water.” Someone left some of its greenish drips on the table. As I wiped them away, I noted bleached wood, devoid of its spar urethane finish, which what we had just tossed down our eager gullets had stripped away. Yum. After watching some top fuel drag racing on the teevee, the youngsters repaired to Denny’s for a bacon and waffle fix, and Wade and me shuffled off to bed.
HE's The Debbil!!So what would the second day of the Icebreaker bring? More of the same? A fluke? Stay tuned for the Sunday report and find out.
