the flying doctor and his RSR

Season 2007.
by Pierre Martins

This is not just a story about a guy and his car.

It’s a story about a dream come true and friendships forged in motorsport…

It all started back in 2006 when my buddy Mario from M&R Motors told me about this doctor from Nelspruit who was building a 911 RSR replica in his garage at home.

My initial thought was ‘yeah right, here comes another dodgy RSR copy with fibreglass fenders', but I must admit I was pleasantly surprised when I first saw the car at Mario’s shop in the south of Jo'burg. This car certainly did not resemble a backyard jobby. No sir, I could see right away this car was lovingly put together with the attention to detail that only a true Porsche anorak was capable of.

The doctor had turned out a decent replica of the Porsche RSR used during ’74, the inaugural year of the “International Race of Champions”, better known as the IROC series in the USA. That year IROC featured great names such as Roger Penske, Richard Petty and Mark Donohue behind the wheel of identical Porsche 911 RSRs…

Anyway, I was at Mario’s for a meeting about the doctor’s RSR. We had the car up on the lift and Mario took me through the suspension setup as we always do before we take a car to the track for the first shakedown. I’ve test driven a few 911 RSRs for Mario in the past and although the doctor’s car was run of the mill for him, this car boasted pretty well under the skin.

At first glance the obvious things like custom built Bilstein shocks with H&R coil-overs courtesy of old hand Ted Garstein were evident, but there is more to a proper RSR suspension than fancy shocks and springs. The entire geometry of a RSR suspension differs from a generic 911 setup and since the donor car in this case was a stock ’80 911sc, the pick up points for the entire suspension were changed to RSR spec. For the front suspension Mario raised the rear mounting points of the lower A-frames to lift the stub-axles by 13mm to counteract forces from the rear under braking. That meant he had to fabricate special tie-rod ends to keep the steering rack in line. In the rear he moved the centre line of the torque tube up by 10mm and mounted 49mm shorter trailing arms on specially fabricated front mounting points to achieve the 3-degree inclination required for RSR spec.

But that’s enough technical mumbo-jumbo for now...

The time came to test this puppy, so it was off to Midvaal raceway.

I’ve tested plenty cars with Mario over the years and Midvaal’s always been our track of choice. You get lots of track time for your money at Midvaal and when you get a car’s handling to work there it will almost certainly work at all other tracks in the country, sans minor tweaking for each individual track, of course.

I had driven another RSR replica for Mario at Midvaal a few months before, a car belonging to movie producer Keith Rose from Cape Town. That car was pretty quick and I managed 1’14”s with room to spare.

You see, unless the owner of the car specifically asks me to, I never take a car to the absolute limit during testing. There is no point in trying to break lap records when your job on the day is to give feedback on a car’s handling. Besides, one must always show respect for another man’s machine when you’re given the opportunity behind the controls, especially with rare exotics such as these. Anyway, the doctor’s car had similar setup to Keith Rose’s RSR, so I kinda knew what to expect…

At the track Mario introduced me to the doctor, Dave, and his friend Gerhardt from Nelspruit. Dave struck me as a very down to earth guy, almost laid back, but I could sense he was one of those guys quiet determination. As for Gerhardt, well, he was a card from the word go. One of those naturally funny dudes…

Time to get behind the wheel of Dave’s tasty new RSR. The modus operandi for the day was I would go out solo for the first session and get heat into the tyres so Mario could get initial pyrometer readings. No fancy onboard telemetry gadgets, we were doing this old-school style. Getting strapped into this left-hooker I realized the controls were just out of comfortable reach. Dave’s a big fellah and the seat was bolted down too far back for my puny frame. I battled to reach the gear stick with my right hand but I went out nevertheless, figured I’d just get a feel for the car…

The car felt good, but I wasn’t comfy in my driving position. On lap three I wannit to come in but Mario signalled I should stay out a few laps more, so I decided to stick in a few quickies. Something I learned with a 911 box, you need a loose, but definitive ‘throw’ of the wrist when you change gears. Don’t follow the distinctive jerky H-pattern like you would in a BMW, in a 911 you need to loosen up a tad, but stay exact with your gear-changes…

Exiting the horse-shoe I caught a little tail slide as I peaked in 2nd and threw the stick up to 3rd whilst getting ready to pick a line into the final corner. The rears suddenly locked up on me. Shit! I knew I stuck it back into 1st instead of 3rd, hit the clutch instinctively, but a fraction too late and spun it, dammit! Did a little 360 and came to stop facing backwards and cursing my first spin ever in testing.

The engine stalled during the spin and my embarrassment quickly turned to horror when I turned the key and it didn’t crank over. Click, turned the key again, click! My blood went cold. I just sat there wondering how much money I had just pissed down the drain. Engine, clutch, gearbox, and whatever else I just screwed up, let alone people’s trust in me as a test driver…

Dave and Mario arrived and I told them what happened. The doctor was surprisingly calm about the incident. He told me the starter solenoid was faulty, that’s why it wouldn’t re-start, so I stuck it in second, got a little push from them and whaddya know? The damn thing fired right up! No damage done, phew! Back in pit-lane Mario and Gerhardt moved the seat forward whilst I licked my wounded ego. I didn’t feel like getting back in the car, but I did and managed to post some respectable times in the next session and Mario got the readings he needed.

After that I took Dave out for a few laps. We switched over and I rode shotgun to observe his driving. The man showed raw talent. Dave had some rally experience, but had never done any circuit racing. No fear and excellent car control, but he was a tad rough. A rough diamond, so to speak.

And that was that. We all went home after that day, tired and exhausted.

They say the best things in the world are un-planned…

A few weeks after our initial test Mario, Dave, Gerhardt and I found ourselves reunited around Dave’s RSR for the David Piper Invitational at Zwartkops Raceway. I can’t recall how it actually happened, it just did. Everything fell into place.

Mario prepped the car, Dave was the eager driver, Gerhardt took care of all the pesky legwork in the pits and I took on the role of coaching Dave. An impromptu team that kinda worked, Dave took third in class that day against great international drivers in fantastic cars such as the Porsche 917, Lola T70, Ferrari P4 and then some. Not a bad start for a guy who built a classic race car in his garage from scratch, eh?

Dave’s RSR dream started with the acquisition on a mundane tired-looking eighties 911sc…

He knew nothing about the technical aspects of building a race car, but starting from scratch seemed like the obvious thing to do, so he stripped the SC down to bare metal. And I mean bare metal. In true Low-feld BBQ fashion he built a rotisserie contraption in his garage so he could spin the car around whilst stripping and gutting it. You make plan when you wanna de-bone a Porsche eh?, he-he-he, Anyway, not a square centimetre of paint was left on the body or chassis. Can you say plenty hours of elbow grease?

With everything stripped down and the heavy interior trim, carpeting and bitumen sound-proofing shit removed, the bare shell was shipped to a reputable body shop to have the rear fender flares welded in. Steel ones, not cheapskate fibreglass laminated over the original bodywork. The front wide-body fenders, also steel. Doors and bonnet were carbon fibre sourced from Café 9 Racing, but Dave opted to keep the stock OEM glass to keep the car semi respectable as a street-able car for the time being. Rear lid, whale-tail and RSR style bumpers were high-quality lightweight fibreglass items.

As for the big ticket item – The power-plant for this RSR was imported from Marcel Grouwmans in Holland, a 3.8L Porsche 964 engine, but please don’t ask me for dyno graphs. You see, in the local Porsche Challenge Unlimited series cars are classed according to bracket lap times, so real HP figures are a private matter of sorts. It’s a can of worms throughout all classes in Porsche Challenge, so all I’m prepared to say about this doctor’s engine is that it made 350hp+ with PMO carburettors last time I saw dyno figures. Case closed.

And so the local 2007 Porsche Challenge Series kicked off in all anger…

Dave quickly earned the nickname “Flying Doctor” with a couple of solid performances, taking home 1st place trophies in class E at the opening round at Wesbank and Kyalami soon after, despite struggling with a pesky intermittent splutter midway through the rev range of the RSR. Something that’s always impressed me with rally drivers is their ability to drive ‘around’ problems. Something could be very wrong with a car, but they’d make it work, regardless. I saw that in Dave’s driving. His rally driving experience certainly helped to produce good results with an under-developed car in the early days of the ’07 season.

But there are other things that count against rally drivers when they first take to circuit racing. Most rally drivers struggle with throttle control when they first try circuit racing. Rally drivers are throttle jockeys by nature because that’s how you drive on dirt. On a tar circuit you need smooth throttle input or you will unsettle the car in corners. I’m talking about feeding the power on gently to balance the car. (The same goes for steering input.) Some rally drivers can make that transition, others can’t. It aint easy breaking a habit that’s been cultivated over years and I was worried if Dave would be able to fix that when the time came…

Be that as it may, our little team was starting to take shape by the time Mario and I flew down for Dave’s East London round. Everything was falling into place. I was walking on clouds at the time, having just come off my first win in 250 Superkarts at Aldo Scribante the weekend before and I expected Dave to do well also. I guess success breeds success and Dave didn’t disappoint, pulling off another podium that weekend. And good ole Gerhardt put a funny stamp on that weekend by ordering a porridge bowl of ice-cream for dinner at a posh restaurant when the rest of us ordered prawn and lobster. The poor little waitress couldn’t keep a straight face and ran off to gather herself. Gerhardt is a nutcase, no doubt. He-he-he…

The latter half of the season got hectic. I found myself pulling regular podiums in 250 Superkarts whilst The Flying Doctor did the same in Porsche Challenge. Things were hotting up. Dave was leading the overall championship, even after they bumped him up a class at the Phakisa round. This was unheard of, a rookie car and driver leading the high-profile Porsche Challenge series. Man that felt good.

Funny how things worked out in the end – A car that brought people together…

I’ve helped a fair number of drivers in my time, but this was the first time I played coach for a full season. Dave is a cool guy to work with. He knows when to put his ego in his back pocket, listen and learn. We worked well together and I enjoyed seeing him on track making use of my advice.

Late in the season I spent a few laps in the passenger seat observing his driving again. He improved by leaps and bounds since that first day we tested at Midvaal, but that rally style throttle jockey thing was hampering his driving. He’d come into a corner, pitch the car beautifully and get back on the power, but just when everything was all set to go, he backed off the throttle and unsettled the car. A fraction of a second later he’d be back on the throttle again, fighting the car through the corner. I made him aware of the problem and he fixed it right there and became a smooth driver overnight. I was impressed.

That’s how you become a good driver, methinks. Forget your ego and learn.

In the end the Flying Doctor surprised all by finishing on the podium each and every race of the season and pulling off the overall championship, as well as first in class D/E of the Porsche Challenge. First time in history a rookie driver has done this. No mean feat eh? The best part is how the doctor’s RSR glued together new friendships.

Cheers,
Pierre.