EDITORIAL

There I was, lined up at the exit of pit lane at Hampton Downs, ready to actually drive my E36 project out onto the track for the first time. My pockets were bare, the magnetic strip on my credit card worn thin, and the shrapnel from my savings-account explosion could be seen bolted carefully in place all around me. Over the course of the last four years, I had committed almost every sin you can when building a project car, and, to be brutally honest with you, I was second guessing myself and the financial decisions that led to this point. The problem — and it’s one I have battled with since my very early teens — is that I’ve always wanted to build GT3-level machines on a 2K Cup budget.

But there I was, about to actually turn a lap of Hamptons. As I warmed up the slicks and got a feel for the flat shifting, all of those bad financial decisions melted away to the back of my mind as the red mist fogged the parts of my brain responsible for rational thought.

What I’m about to say is probably going to shock many of you, but it was probably a really bad idea to build the level of car I did when I did, but I was committed to the project and determined to see it through to the end. In hindsight, building a muchsimpler project and learning the ins and outs of running a race car would have been a wiser move that would have set me up to build a much better car in the long run. Now that the dust has settled, and I’ve completed all of 30 laps, I can now see so many short falls. In fact, as you read this, the lust to cut it up has risen, and the car is back in a million pieces. Although I’ve barely driven it, and can’t afford it, I’m once again on the quest for the perfect car.

So what’s the point of all these ramblings about my bad financial decisions? Basically, I want this to serve as some sort of warning to you all, and there are two ways you can take it. First up, build a car within your means; set a budget and build-goal and stick to it, come hell or high water. You won’t miss countless events you could have attended, and, if it’s a race car, you’ll have more time to perfect the most important aspect of performance, which is actually your skill behind the wheel. I say this time and time again, but we don’t all need a million-dollar machine that is magazine-cover worthy. In fact, some of my favourite cars of all time would see me lose my job if I stuck them on the cover.

Or, second, if you’re just going to go ahead and spend the big dollars, see the damn thing through, right to the end. No one likes a quitter, and actually seeing it through will give you a sense of achievement that no amount of money can replace. But be wise in your spending and direction. Get solid advice from reputable sources and only get work done by companies that come with recommendations from people you trust. Perhaps set a three-stage build process, so you can drive it between each stage and see what will work best to avoid potentially wasting money on stuff that’s really not needed. This is something I should have done, 100 per cent.

There is one final piece of advice I’d like to pass on — leave painting until the very last minute. Finish the build, drive it lots, and iron out all the bugs. Even if it’s six colours, a splash of primer and a hint of gel coat, who the hell cares? If it’s your first race car, you will find things that need changing; moving; and, like I have found, chopping up and re-jigging. My car needs its third interior and engine-bay paint job, and I’ve only driven it 30 laps.

None of what I’ve said above is ground-breaking theory, but it’s all stuff that I wish I had listened to. But as they say, you often only learn from your mistakes. Build, race, wreck, fix, repeat.

Catch you at the track.