This project has had some marvelous guidance.
CONGRATULATIONS contributors.
FREUD
We have learned a lot about beer, haven't we, Glenn?
Well, lately, yes. For a long while, the Midget was like a pin-ball getting slammed from one bumper to the next. I've tilted it a couple of times, but have been fortunate in that I've been able to hit the credit button a couple of times, and suddenly, I've got more balls.
bad metaphor . . . When Mark and I first started talking, about a year and a half ago, he mentioned that when he watched how the Penske teams operated, they were always done at 5:00, they all went out and got a decent dinner, and when they arrived at the track the next day, they'd just put the car on the grid and raced.
They were prepared.
Usually, there were other competitors scrambling to get something back together, or dinkin' around with something until late in the night, short sleeping themselves, and the next day, gridding a car and crossing their fingers.
They were not prepared.
Now I'm no Roger Penske. My garage is a mess, my wallet is lean, and while my skills have gotten better, I'm hardly a pro. But here is what I do know.
The car is together. The transmission works. The engine performs at expectations. The power band is right for what I'm looking to do. To the best of my ability and knowledge, the car should pass tech. There is room for improvement, and I will pursue it, but if Speedweek were right now, about all I would have to do is gas up, seal the tank, and get in line.
I'm still going to put together a checklist, and I'm still going to review where I'm at, and I'm still going to worry. I'll probably make a few changes, because a race car is never done. But I posted last September - and I'm going to stick to my conviction - that I have built the fastest damned stock bodied, naturally aspirated, five-port, one liter Midget ever to hit the salt. And as of today, I believe it's sitting out in the garage.
Okay - the talkin' part's all over.