sclark Overdrive

Join Date: Dec 2000 Location: W. Michigan Posts: 10,380

Confessions of a track whore pt3 - Dodge Viper GTS ACR



There are two Vipers here. Both are Generation 2 Viper coupes - one a Competition Coupe that predates the GTS, the other a brand spanking new GTS ACR. Yep, same as the one that made the whole "ZR-1 vs GT-R Nurburgring Lap Times" issue a moot point when it devastated both their times by several seconds. Big wing, big splitter - that car. It's a menacing black car with a black racing stripe and it's rear wing set to "kill." The guy prepping it looks familiar. VERY familiar. Turns out he's one of the instructors for the novice group and he's introduced as Ralph Gillies.



I know that name.



Journalist? Auto industry big muckamuck? My mind races. Chrysler? It IS a Viper. Being towed by a Dodge Ram. Gotta be someone from Chrysler. Right? But there's a journalist named Gillies too. Ah! But he's MARK Gillies, not Ralph. No, I'm guessing Ralph is an executive at Chrysler. I start checking out his car. He comes over and nods. I introduce myself and he does the same. "Chrysler, right?"



"Yep, head of design for Chrysler."



WOW. How unexpected. And cool. We talk cars for awhile, then about life at Chrysler since FIAT took over. He's very excited about everything. They're even working weekends now and if you take vacation, you could be called back for work. Marchione says that once Chrysler starts making money again, they can start taking weekends off again but for now it's seven days a week. Nevertheless, he's excited by that, by Marchione's no-BS sense of business which he regards as a welcome change, and by the things he sees coming down the line. Good news for a long-time Chrysler fan.



Amidst driving, scoring rides in some other cars, and shooting the breeze with drivers throughout the paddock, I repeatedly find myself returning to look over the ACR Viper and talk with Ralph. So much so that I fear he thinks I'm stalking him now. I try to play it cool and act nonchalant. I must score a ride in this beast somehow.



Later in the day, I get my chance. While getting out a piece of gum, he notices and asks for one. My chance arrives!!



"Sure, no problem," I tell him. Then add "I'll trade you for a ride."



He looks surprised, then grins. "Sure," he says. "I can do that."



Shortly thereafter, he rigs up telemetry and video gear on the car that fills up the passenger seat. He then proceeds to pound lap after lap around the track. The day wears on. He hasn't offered a couple laps yet and I'm getting anxious. Was he blowing me off?



Around 4:00, some people are starting to pack up for the trip home. My friend, who was kind enough to loan me a helmet is heading out. I lose access to a helmet and hope that Ralph has an extra. Around 4:30, he begins to remove all the telemetry and video gear. Is he done for the day? Nuts. I head off for a beverage. When I return, I notice he's getting ready to hit the track again. Nobody is waiting for a ride. He sees me watching.



"Hey, can you give a guy a ride?" I ask, nearly pleading.



"Yeah, c'mon over," he says. "I've achieved my goal of beating my best time out here. That was my goal today. You got a helmet?"



"No, my helmet just left with it's owner. Got an extra?"



He produces an extra and hands it to me. I jump in the right seat and buckle the standard three-point belt. "Sorry," he says. "No harness on that side. Just grab the handle on the door and hang on."



He turns the key, pushes the starter button and the engine booms to life. It's loud. No, it's LOUD. I know the GTS ACR is supposed to be a race car for the street, but this is ridiculous. He's got mufflers on it, but you wouldn't know it from inside the car. He backs out of his spot and we head off towards the starting lane. Little stones pelt the underside of the car, thrown up by the Kumho slicks. I swear these tires would pick up gravel if you threw them in a lake. The suspension is stiff. It reminds me a lot of the Lotus Exige but bigger and meaner. The flagman is telling us to wait for traffic to pass, so I ask the question that's been lurking in my mind all day: "So do you get fun stuff from the engineering guys to play with?"



Though he's wearing a full-face helment, I can tell he's grinning. He nods.



"So this is, what? 600hp? Is that right?"



"Well, this particular engine is making 600 hp. At the rear wheels."



My brain is only starting to register the implications of what he said when the flagman waves us out and he tips in the loud peddle. The car leaps - LEAPS! - forward towards the first curve and as he touches the brakes, I slide forward on the leather seat and my feet make contact with the firewall. About that time, he turns into the first corner and ACCELERATES through it so violently that my body involuntarily stiffens, bracing myself between the firewall and the seatback, my right hand tightening on the door grip to keep myself from flopping sideways in the car. We accelerate through the next series of turns so fast that my brain can scarcely comprehend what's happening. My body is merely trying to hold itself in position and keep from becoming one of those dangerous "loose items" that they warned us about in the driver's meeting.



After a few more seconds of brutal yawing, we reach the straight and he nails the throttle. The car jumps and rips down the straight faster than I've ever been in a car. Fear suddenly fills me as I realize that if the brakes fail, we're going to die. We probably won't even touch the gravel, we'll probably just break through the earthen berm at the end, take down the small trees, and cross the street into someone's yard. But we roar into the braking zone and he nails the brakes, which never fade, dropping two gears and jerking the wheel right for the 130-degree corner. The wheels seem to wrestle with the asphalt for a fraction of a second, smoothing out and the car goes through the 130-degree corner flat as a pancake and about as hot. He nails the throttle again and we explode towards the next corner. He jerks the wheel again and we go 90-degrees over rough uneven pavement which doesn't seem to faze the car. Again we explode, towards the left-hand 130-degree off-camber corner. Brake tap, dive into it, nail the throttle, explode towards the next curve, a graceful right hander. Ford Mustang Cobra ahead, rightinfront, (!), waved by we shoot past him like he's stopped, over the hump, stomach in my throat, settle, hard right, explode forward again. This is unreal. This is unrelenting. This is the most brutal thing I've ever ridden in, including all roller coasters at Cedar Point in Ohio, and that's saying something. We do two complete laps before my brain can register any sort of comparisons or thoughts other than "OH $#&@&!!!!!!" We hit the straight again. I think I can detect the sonic boom we make. Not sure. We reach the braking zone and he again nails the brakes and drops two gears before jerking us right again. "How fast are we getting on the straight?" I yell.



"150."



Good lord. The straight is only 3200 feet long in it's entirety. What is that? Slightly more than a half-mile? Sweet mother of....



He jerks the wheel again and I hold on for dear life. I get the impression you don't so much steer the car at it's limit as you jerk it like a leash on a large, strong, disobediant dog. At this level, every input is violent, every thought a reaction. The next time we hit the straight, I realize my right hand is so tight on the door grip that it's cramping up. I have a few seconds to stretch and flex my fingers and hand before I have to grab it again for the next turn.



He gives me six laps total, one of which was 1/100th off his best time ever here. He's pleased. I'm pleased - to be alive. When we reach the paddock, he pulls into his spot and shuts her down. The sudden calmness is eerie. It's probably similar to what most tornado survivors experience.



"You okay?" he asks.



I pull my helmet off and stare ahead, stunned. "I have no words. I'm speechless," I reply. "That was the most violent and exciting ride I've ever had. Thank you."



We climb out and talk about the car a bit. He's quite pleased with it. He's put over 10,000 miles on it, all on tracks around the country. The Dodge marketing guys told him this car would never sell and would be a complete failure. "You can't sell a Dodge for over $100,000. It can't be done," they told him. They pushed for it anyway. There is currently a 120 day supply of stock Viper roadsters and coupes while the ACR is backordered for six-months. It's a hot ticket item. Plus, it's not just Viper owners that are buying it. It's starting to steal sales from other manufacturers now too. Like who? Porsche, primarily. Apparently quite a few new ACR sales are to Porsche Club guys because it's cheaper than both the GT3 and GT2 but blows them both away on the track. "I've been comparing my times at tracks to the times that IMSA cars were running on them a few years ago. It's right there. It's running with recent track-only racecars....and beating some."



With that, he started packing up to return to Detroit, and I fired up my Miata and headed out.



Man, my car is slow. I wonder what my local Chrysler dealer would give me for trade-in on a new ACR.... Last part of my thoroughly enjoyable Friday spent at the track.There are two Vipers here. Both are Generation 2 Viper coupes - one a Competition Coupe that predates the GTS, the other a brand spanking new GTS ACR. Yep, same as the one that made the whole "ZR-1 vs GT-R Nurburgring Lap Times" issue a moot point when it devastated both their times by several seconds. Big wing, big splitter - that car. It's a menacing black car with a black racing stripe and it's rear wing set to "kill." The guy prepping it looks familiar. VERY familiar. Turns out he's one of the instructors for the novice group and he's introduced as Ralph Gillies.I know that name.Journalist? Auto industry big muckamuck? My mind races. Chrysler? It IS a Viper. Being towed by a Dodge Ram. Gotta be someone from Chrysler. Right? But there's a journalist named Gillies too. Ah! But he's MARK Gillies, not Ralph. No, I'm guessing Ralph is an executive at Chrysler. I start checking out his car. He comes over and nods. I introduce myself and he does the same. "Chrysler, right?""Yep, head of design for Chrysler."WOW. How unexpected. And cool. We talk cars for awhile, then about life at Chrysler since FIAT took over. He's very excited about everything. They're even working weekends now and if you take vacation, you could be called back for work. Marchione says that once Chrysler starts making money again, they can start taking weekends off again but for now it's seven days a week. Nevertheless, he's excited by that, by Marchione's no-BS sense of business which he regards as a welcome change, and by the things he sees coming down the line. Good news for a long-time Chrysler fan.Amidst driving, scoring rides in some other cars, and shooting the breeze with drivers throughout the paddock, I repeatedly find myself returning to look over the ACR Viper and talk with Ralph. So much so that I fear he thinks I'm stalking him now. I try to play it cool and act nonchalant. I must score a ride in this beast somehow.Later in the day, I get my chance. While getting out a piece of gum, he notices and asks for one. My chance arrives!!"Sure, no problem," I tell him. Then add "I'll trade you for a ride."He looks surprised, then grins. "Sure," he says. "I can do that."Shortly thereafter, he rigs up telemetry and video gear on the car that fills up the passenger seat. He then proceeds to pound lap after lap around the track. The day wears on. He hasn't offered a couple laps yet and I'm getting anxious. Was he blowing me off?Around 4:00, some people are starting to pack up for the trip home. My friend, who was kind enough to loan me a helmet is heading out. I lose access to a helmet and hope that Ralph has an extra. Around 4:30, he begins to remove all the telemetry and video gear. Is he done for the day? Nuts. I head off for a beverage. When I return, I notice he's getting ready to hit the track again. Nobody is waiting for a ride. He sees me watching."Hey, can you give a guy a ride?" I ask, nearly pleading."Yeah, c'mon over," he says. "I've achieved my goal of beating my best time out here. That was my goal today. You got a helmet?""No, my helmet just left with it's owner. Got an extra?"He produces an extra and hands it to me. I jump in the right seat and buckle the standard three-point belt. "Sorry," he says. "No harness on that side. Just grab the handle on the door and hang on."He turns the key, pushes the starter button and the engine booms to life. It's loud. No, it's LOUD. I know the GTS ACR is supposed to be a race car for the street, but this is ridiculous. He's got mufflers on it, but you wouldn't know it from inside the car. He backs out of his spot and we head off towards the starting lane. Little stones pelt the underside of the car, thrown up by the Kumho slicks. I swear these tires would pick up gravel if you threw them in a lake. The suspension is stiff. It reminds me a lot of the Lotus Exige but bigger and meaner. The flagman is telling us to wait for traffic to pass, so I ask the question that's been lurking in my mind all day: "So do you get fun stuff from the engineering guys to play with?"Though he's wearing a full-face helment, I can tell he's grinning. He nods."So this is, what? 600hp? Is that right?""Well, this particular engine is making 600 hp. At the rear wheels."My brain is only starting to register the implications of what he said when the flagman waves us out and he tips in the loud peddle. The car leaps - LEAPS! - forward towards the first curve and as he touches the brakes, I slide forward on the leather seat and my feet make contact with the firewall. About that time, he turns into the first corner and ACCELERATES through it so violently that my body involuntarily stiffens, bracing myself between the firewall and the seatback, my right hand tightening on the door grip to keep myself from flopping sideways in the car. We accelerate through the next series of turns so fast that my brain can scarcely comprehend what's happening. My body is merely trying to hold itself in position and keep from becoming one of those dangerous "loose items" that they warned us about in the driver's meeting.After a few more seconds of brutal yawing, we reach the straight and he nails the throttle. The car jumps and rips down the straight faster than I've ever been in a car. Fear suddenly fills me as I realize that if the brakes fail, we're going to die. We probably won't even touch the gravel, we'll probably just break through the earthen berm at the end, take down the small trees, and cross the street into someone's yard. But we roar into the braking zone and he nails the brakes, which never fade, dropping two gears and jerking the wheel right for the 130-degree corner. The wheels seem to wrestle with the asphalt for a fraction of a second, smoothing out and the car goes through the 130-degree corner flat as a pancake and about as hot. He nails the throttle again and we explode towards the next corner. He jerks the wheel again and we go 90-degrees over rough uneven pavement which doesn't seem to faze the car. Again we explode, towards the left-hand 130-degree off-camber corner. Brake tap, dive into it, nail the throttle, explode towards the next curve, a graceful right hander. Ford Mustang Cobra ahead, rightinfront, (!), waved by we shoot past him like he's stopped, over the hump, stomach in my throat, settle, hard right, explode forward again. This is unreal. This is unrelenting. This is the most brutal thing I've ever ridden in, including all roller coasters at Cedar Point in Ohio, and that's saying something. We do two complete laps before my brain can register any sort of comparisons or thoughts other than "OH $#&@&!!!!!!" We hit the straight again. I think I can detect the sonic boom we make. Not sure. We reach the braking zone and he again nails the brakes and drops two gears before jerking us right again. "How fast are we getting on the straight?" I yell."150."Good lord. The straight is only 3200 feet long in it's entirety. What is that? Slightly more than a half-mile? Sweet mother of....He jerks the wheel again and I hold on for dear life. I get the impression you don't so much steer the car at it's limit as you jerk it like a leash on a large, strong, disobediant dog. At this level, every input is violent, every thought a reaction. The next time we hit the straight, I realize my right hand is so tight on the door grip that it's cramping up. I have a few seconds to stretch and flex my fingers and hand before I have to grab it again for the next turn.He gives me six laps total, one of which was 1/100th off his best time ever here. He's pleased. I'm pleased - to be alive. When we reach the paddock, he pulls into his spot and shuts her down. The sudden calmness is eerie. It's probably similar to what most tornado survivors experience."You okay?" he asks.I pull my helmet off and stare ahead, stunned. "I have no words. I'm speechless," I reply. "That was the most violent and exciting ride I've ever had. Thank you."We climb out and talk about the car a bit. He's quite pleased with it. He's put over 10,000 miles on it, all on tracks around the country. The Dodge marketing guys told him this car would never sell and would be a complete failure. "You can't sell a Dodge for over $100,000. It can't be done," they told him. They pushed for it anyway. There is currently a 120 day supply of stock Viper roadsters and coupes while the ACR is backordered for six-months. It's a hot ticket item. Plus, it's not just Viper owners that are buying it. It's starting to steal sales from other manufacturers now too. Like who? Porsche, primarily. Apparently quite a few new ACR sales are to Porsche Club guys because it's cheaper than both the GT3 and GT2 but blows them both away on the track. "I've been comparing my times at tracks to the times that IMSA cars were running on them a few years ago. It's right there. It's running with recent track-only racecars....and beating some."With that, he started packing up to return to Detroit, and I fired up my Miata and headed out.Man, my car is slow. I wonder what my local Chrysler dealer would give me for trade-in on a new ACR....