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Come race start, something’s not quite right at the front in GTA class as we approach the gantry, and there’s a concertina ripple of brake lights as multiple grid rows stamp on the middle pedal to avoid a pile up. By the time the wave reaches me forcing me to brake, the lights change and I’m caught out of the power band as the field explodes. Rats!
I lose ground to the other AUH Aston, and both Paul and Khaled are spearing off in search of turn 1. A look down the outside of the Ginetta and I’m bouncing off the rev limiter. Double rats!
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I manage to switch tack, steering heavily into the middle of the track to squeeze through the pack and brake late into the turn. Julian Griffin’s DXB Racing Viper has rather thoughtfully put on a stunt show complete with dry ice and explosions as he careers off the outside of turn 1 to rejoin behind the GTB front runners – now in formation with Khaled’s Ginetta taking advantage of the confusion to sneak into the lead, Paul’s Porsche glued to his tail, number 99 on Paul, and Fred’s teeny tiny Lotus (say it in a high pitched voice) in hot pursuit.
Ah, I love the smell of Pagids in the morning.
Julian’s Viper punches a hole through the GTB field and Paul uses the opportunity to latch on to his tail to retake P1 from Khaled.
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There’s little to say about the meat of the race from my perspective. In the opening laps, I manage to dart down the inside of the Ginetta under braking before the Club Link to grab P2. Khaled is peddling the Ginetta mighty quick this weekend and I need to lose him fast so I can concentrate on Paul in P1.
Into the off-camber right turn 16 before the main straight, I opt for an excessively defensive line with Khaled millimetres from my rear bumper. I brake earlier than normal in order to benefit from better traction than the Ginetta at the exit, and as a result hopefully gain some yards on him by the end of the straight. It works, but not in the way I intended: instead Khaled locks up, unsettles the car and ends up facing the wrong way. Result.
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Now I’m content to trail Paul’s Porsche for the next 20 minutes, knowing that when he gets into the pits, he will endure a frustrating extra delay, leaving me with a cinch of a win. The two Porsches consistently knock out 1:34s lap after lap, with the gap between us neither growing nor shrinking. All is going according to plan.
Paul tells me afterwards his strategy was simple:
“If I was ahead after the start, push hard in the first stint to open up a gap. If I was behind, follow close to put pressure on you to use up your tyres. I had asked Alex to get me in as soon as the pit window opened so that I could break the tow and get into some clear air, then my strategy was to push hard for five laps after the pit stop, and if the gap to you was closing quick enough I would keep pushing and go for a win, if not I would back off and hold station in 2nd and take the points I needed for the championship.”
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Once I’m back out from my mandatory pitstop, I’m feeling pretty relaxed, though sadly the car is not. I’m getting a plethora of noises from my poor car: gearbox graunches (2nd to 3rd through the Club Link and 4th to 2nd under heel and toe before the Link are giving me particular problems, forcing me to slow the change), rattling from the front brakes and clonks from the rear when riding the kerbs. Geez, hope that exhaust holds together, it was a touch loose in testing yesterday.
My tyres are well and truly off, as I discover when barrelling into the high speed and aero sensitive turns 5-7: the car touches the kerb at the apex of the right hand sweeper at around 160kph, accelerates and opens up the corner, before swinging back into the S at perhaps 180kph. It’s loose, very loose. So much so that for a brief moment, number 99 threatens to go terminal on me and I opt to modulate the brake pressure gently, and aim straight into the run off area to avoid a wipeout. Phew, chill for a second here, get your head together again and point the nose back onto the circuit, this time with a little more circumspection.
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The Club Link is also proving to be a problem. In the heat of battle, it’s easy to ignore what the car is telling you as one rides roughshod over the kerbs in the link, but here and now in the calm of the second half of the race, the slightest rattles or clonk tells you to back off and nurse the car to the end. I really don’t want to repeat my bad luck from the last race, and my choice of a stiff set up for this circuit configuration has proven to be a mistake – I should have gone a couple of clicks softer.
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And even though his own tyres are now past their best, Paul has managed his car, his set up and his lines better than me, and is now running 1-2 seconds a lap quicker in the closing stages, and has me in his sights. It proves relatively simple for him to shadow me into turn 1 after the main straight, wait for me to drift wide and dart inside the long right hand sweeper. There’s nothing I can do except watch and resign myself to a solid second. I am well and truly buried – not just today, but in the championship as well.
The race ends in confusion and farce for me. I’m not quite sure which lap is my last, but notice Karim’s Corvette storming up the pit straight as I enter the braking zone for turn 1. He’s slowed right down, as if he’s just taken the chequered flag and I figure at the next pass my race is also over. Thank God. I can ease off and nurse 99 over the line.
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But he’s gesticulating at me wildly. Pointing ahead. Not sure what he’s saying, to be honest. He’s swinging one way then the other across the track. Maybe this is something he’s doing for the cameras? I’m not sure. As we enter turn 16, he comes to a virtual stop ahead of me. What on Earth is he doing?
I’ve no idea, but I have to pass him and take the chequered flag with Karim accelerating right up behind me, and buzzing his pit crew. Except the chequered flag wasn’t for me. It was for him….
The DXB Racing Lotus is next up to take the flag and coasts along with me towards the pit lane, a brilliant result for the little car on its first outing. Karim meanwhile is still gesticulating at me. Nope, I’m still not getting it.
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Fred’s Lotus has finished, of course, since he crossed the line after the flag for Karim. But whilst Karim was trying to spare me the embarrassment of not overtaking me during the race itself, by stopping at turn 16 before the flag, in fact I need to complete one more lap to finish. Only I don’t know this.
As I pull into the pit lane and get out in parc fermé, Karim tells me I have technically not finished the race, and I am gutted. Well and truly gut wrenchingly devastated. DNF. Nul points.
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Photographer Darren Rycroft (aka Northern Ferret to the online Gulf Petrolheads community) is busying himself capturing the sweat and grime of post race euphoria, but for once I have to ask him to point the camera elsewhere. I just can’t face having this moment captured for eternity.
But God is on my side. Or at least Schumacher is. Have a google of the 1998 British Grand Prix for an interesting precedent, but it appears my entry into the pit lane means I crossed the start/finish line thus completing the final lap, one ahead of Fred, but one behind Paul. And breathe….
For anyone in GTA who wants to spare me the embarrassment of being lapped, please don’t worry lads. I’d much rather be lapped, complete the race and take the flag behind you than be forced to nurse my dying car through more pain.
Lessons learnt from this weekend? Don’t go chasing quali times to the detriment of your tyres. Don’t rely on a “perfect” set up for one configuration working on a different circuit. Don’t relax against Paul Denby, because he doesn’t know how to. And count the number of laps…
Congrats Paul and Khaleji Motorsport. A well deserved championship.
