Learning from the MASTER
Columnist takes to the curves of Mosport under guidance of Fellows’ racing instructors
One of my fondest memories of Ron Fellows — is he “Sir Ron” now that he is a member of the Order of Canada? — came at a Corvette event at Daytona some years ago.
At the time, he was lead driver in a two-car Corvette C5-R race team.
We were there for a “production” Corvette event, and got to meet the drivers.
I can’t remember exactly who the other drivers were, but Chris Kneifel, Andy Pilgrim and Franck Fréon were among them. Maybe Justin Bell, too?
Normally when racers are sitting around shooting the, um, “breeze,” they’re all over each other.
“Ah, he couldn’t drive a nail with a hammer!”
Yes, even when journalists are around.
Maybe especially when journalists are around.
What I will never forget is the complete awe the other drivers felt toward Fellows.
And he was sitting right beside them.
One story that came out was when Fellows’ car had qualified some two seconds quicker around the Daytona road course than the other supposedly identical Corvette.
The slower car was nicknamed the “smurf” car. No, not because the drivers wore blue makeup. (To be accurate, they did not.)
But because they were all about five feet six inches tall.
Fellows is maybe 6-2, Kneifel about 6-14.
The smurfs couldn’t figure out why Fellows’ car was so much faster.
So, one of them — I think it was Pilgrim — decided to do some laps in Fellows’ car. They literally had to put blocks on the pedals so he could reach them — race cars don’t have adjustable seats.
And he was a second and a half faster in Fellows’ car than he had been in his own. Why? Because Fellows is not only an outstanding race car driver, he is amazing at setting a car up.
So, when the chance came to attend Fellows’ racing school at Mosport — I don’t care how much Canadian Tire paid for naming rights; it will always be Mosport (pronounced MOEsport, as in Motor Sport, never MOSS-port) to me — I wasn’t going to turn it down.
Yes, it has taken me a while to tell this tale, but better late...
Our mounts were a series of Chevrolet Camaros, ranging from the base four-cylinder 2.0-litre turbo engine and six-speed manual transmission, which starts below $30,000, to the ZL11LE 6.2litre supercharged V-8, with 650 horsepower and a 10-speed autobox. Check every box on that order form and you’ll be well into the $80,000 range.
After a classroom session conducted by Fellows’ son, Sam, no slouch as a driver himself, we went out “in formation,” with two or three cars following a pace car.
The trick here is always to try and get in a group with people you know have at least half a clue, because the pace car will only go as fast as the slowest car in the group. The other key is to get an instructor who cannot only communicate hints on the proper line through the corners, but won’t be all over you every time you don’t get it 100 per cent right. My guy was Matt Champagne, and I’ve seldom had a better one.
The “line” through any corner begins with the idea that the quickest way is to widen the radius of the corner as much as possible. Start at the “turn in” point at the far side (to the right for a left-hand corner), turn in to the “apex” (to the left), then gradually move out to the “exit.”
Mosport is considered by most racers as one of the most difficult tracks to master. I have always believed that one reason for this is that for most of the corners, you can’t see the apex from the turn-in point. So, visual tracking — looking for that point where you want to end up and heading there — doesn’t work because you can’t see where that point is. Your car always goes where your eyes take it.
Yeah, that apex probably hasn’t moved in the minute and a half, give or take, since you were last there, but you don’t have that visual reference.
Champagne would take the perfect line every time, somehow also being able to check his rear-view mirror to see how his little ducklings were doing behind him.
If one of us got a bit off, he’d gently suggest a minor correction through the intercoms in the cars. If we didn’t get it initially, he’d be a bit more urgent on the next lap.
If you can’t learn from this guy, better find another hobby.
Chatting with the other groups of students, they all had similar things to say about their instructors. When they’re all good, at some point you have to give credit to the people running the program.
The key to all this from General Motors’ perspective is that if we’re all comfortable with the track and know where to go, we can focus on the cars.
Everybody, of course, wanted to get into the fire-breathing supercharged V-8. That was fine by me because I figured I’d reacquaint myself with the track in the less-powerful 2.0-litre turbo, and work my way up to the quicker machinery.
I finished with another session in the four-banger.
This actually proved to have been a wise choice, because it emphasized how impressive the four was.
For starters, you aren’t quite as worried about overdriving the car. In the big V-8, all that torque can get away from you.
Turbo lag is minimal, especially as we were driving pretty much flat out.
The car had the sport-tuned suspension, which allowed precise control as you worked your way through the bends.
It is considerably lighter than the V-8, and all of that weight loss is over the front wheels, which improves steering response.
The manual gearbox features rev-matching — the car automatically blips the throttle as you downshift, to make your driving smoother.
All of us at one point shut this off to test our skills against the machine. Bad idea.
The other advantages of the four are obviously price (it’s up to tens of thousands cheaper than the V-8s) and fuel consumption. Sure, you aren’t buying an economy car here, but you do have to feed the beast.
OK, then, into the supercharged V-8. It is obviously faster on the straights, and the grunt coming out of the corners is impressive.
Handling was a shade trickier because of the torque — wheelspin was a mere prod of the right foot away.
Incipient rain showers also threatened to “dampen” our enthusiasm.
The 10-speed automatic transmission allows paddle shifting if you think you can do a better job than it can by itself. You probably can’t.
So, impressive performance at every price point.
The drawbacks of this generation of Camaro remain what they have always been — mainly, you think you’re sitting in a very deep bathtub. It’s awkward to get in and out of it. The rear window is narrow and rearward visibility is limited. You’re going to learn to love that rear camera for backing up.
Probably the No. 1 takeaway from this event is one I learned a long time ago: if you are going to buy a performance car, whether it’s a Ferrari or a Camaro, get some advanced driver training from people like the Ron Fellows crew.
You’ll enjoy your car a lot more because you will become a much better driver.
And the rest of us will all be a lot safer, too.