Sideways In A Shelby

nMarch 2010

Nestled in the Andaman Sea on Thailand's Indian Ocean coastline lies a tropical paradise called Phuket.

The island has absolutely nothing to do with this story.

However, if you deliberately mispronounce the name in English, it perfectly describes what went through my mind five laps into first practice at Zwartkops Raceway. I was climbing the hill towards Table Top when I heard a clunk from somewhere deep inside the engine.

Not a little clunk.

Not a maybe-I-imagined-that clunk. A proper mechanical death rattle. The sort of noise that immediately translates itself into fluent profanity. I knocked the car into neutral, hit the kill switch and coasted back to the pits.

Phuket.

Race weekend over. Or so I thought. 

A quick inspection revealed the culprit. The crankshaft had broken. Before I could slip fully into my finest Phuketian accent, the Shelby Can-Am guys had the rear bodywork off and were already discussing replacement options. Somebody disappeared into a trailer and returned with another engine.

An entire replacement engine. The race was back on.

But perhaps I should explain how I ended up behind the wheel of a Shelby Can-Am in the first place.
The best things in motorsport tend to happen with very little planning. About a week before the race meeting Rod Cole phoned and asked if I was interested in an arrive-and-drive opportunity for the Pro Tour round at Zwartkops.

Now, anyone who's spent enough time around race circuits knows that's not really a question. The correct answer is always yes. The details can be sorted out afterwards. One thing led to another and I found myself entered as a guest driver in Rudi Patour's Shelby Can-Am, with GT1 Workshop handling race preparation duties.

I was delighted. I'd always admired the class.

For those unfamiliar with the formula, Shelby Can-Am racing is one of South African motorsport's hidden gems. The cars are purpose-built spaceframe sports prototypes weighing around 850 kilograms and powered by near-stock Nissan 350Z V6 engines producing approximately 330 horsepower and 410 Nm of torque.

Power is delivered through a four-speed crash box with a locked differential.

Suspension consists of double wishbones all round, adjustable anti-roll bars, SAX dampers, coil-overs and substantial Willwood brakes clamping onto double-ventilated discs.

The cars run on massive Goodyear slicks - thirteen inches wide at the rear and ten inches at the front.
The result is a lightweight, highly responsive sports prototype capable of embarrassing far more exotic machinery.

Unfortunately my introduction to the class involved a broken crankshaft. Apparently the problem wasn't entirely unheard of. The Shelby association had investigated previous failures with Nissan South Africa.

The prevailing theory was that the solid engine mounts used in the race cars introduced harmonic vibrations absent in road-going 350Zs, occasionally resulting in crankshaft failures. I was simply lucky enough to experience one firsthand.

The engine swap became a frantic race against time. Gerald and the GT1 Workshop crew worked like men possessed. Spanners flew. Bodywork came off. Fluids drained. Parts changed hands. And somehow, by Friday afternoon, the car was ready for qualifying.

Which was unfortunate. Because now I actually had to drive the thing properly.

Qualifying was one of those situations where experience has to compensate for preparation.
I had effectively missed most of Friday's track time and was still learning both the car and its peculiarities.

Zwartkops is a fascinating circuit in that it's really two racetracks stitched together.

The section from Turn Two through Turn Five rewards commitment and momentum. Long sweepers and decent straights make it a drag-race sector where carrying speed is everything. The remainder of the lap is far more technical. Tight corners, short straights and constant direction changes make it feel almost like a kart circuit.

The Shelby and I immediately established a working relationship.

It wanted to go sideways. Everywhere. Under power through the fast sweepers. Under power out of slow corners. Under power whenever it felt like it.

The rear end felt looser than a Bangkok prostitute.

Okay, I don't actually know what a Bangkok prostitute feels like, but it seemed an appropriate comparison at the time.

Truth be told, I quite enjoyed it. The car, that is - I've never been to Bangkok.

The car was fitted with tyres that had already lived a reasonably full life and grip levels weren't exactly spectacular. The result was a wonderfully entertaining balance that required constant attention and rewarded commitment. 

I eventually managed a high 1:05-something lap, which wasn't earth-shattering but wasn't entirely embarrassing either considering the circumstances.

Back in the pits we chased setup. More rear wing. Softer rear anti-roll bar. Reduced rear ride height. Anything that might improve traction and calm the rear axle. The changes helped, but there's only so much setup wizardry available when a tyre has already made peace with retirement.

Trying to dial out worn tyres with setup changes is like spelling racecar backwards.

You still end up with racecar.

The reality is that Shelby Can-Am racing is fiercely competitive. The cars are remarkably equal and small differences become magnified. A slight setup issue. A little less grip. A fraction of hesitation. Suddenly you're nowhere.

At that point I abandoned any thoughts of heroic results and adopted a far more sensible objective.

Enjoy the drive. After all, opportunities like this don't come along every day. And what a drive it was. The Shelby Can-Am is one of those rare race cars that immediately inspires confidence. Quick enough to command respect, communicative enough to encourage aggression and forgiving enough to allow a little experimentation.

The harder I pushed, the more I enjoyed it. The more sideways it became, the more I laughed. By the end of the weekend I finished eighth overall. Not exactly the result that gets engraved onto trophies. But sometimes racing weekends aren't measured by finishing positions. Sometimes they're measured by experiences.

A week earlier I wasn't planning to race. Five laps into practice I thought the weekend was finished. A few hours later I was back on track in a replacement-engined Shelby Can-Am, throwing a sports prototype sideways around Zwartkops and having an absolute blast.

I've had worse weekends.

My thanks go to Jannet for sorting the entry, Rocket Rod for the nomination, Rudi Patour for trusting me with the car, Rui Campos for the opportunity, Alan Eve for the replacement engine, Gerald and the GT1 Workshop crew for their heroic efforts, and all the Shelby drivers for their advice and hospitality.

Good bunch of racers.

Geesh.

That sounds suspiciously like an Oscar acceptance speech. Perhaps I'd better stop there.

- Pierre Martins 

CLICK HERE to view the Shelby Can-Am Test
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