Lessons Learned

The heel-toe shifting exercise .

By John Nelson

couple of years ago, I started taking dance lessons. It's something I'd wanted to do for awhile, and I finally made the time for it. The main thing I had going for me in this endeavor was the realization that besides a good sense of rhythm, I have no innate talent as a dancer. Thus recognizing my limitations and being totally open-minded to instruction, I've been able to overcome my resistance to putting foot "A" on spot "B" and learned how to cut a pretty good rug.

Driving is a whole other story. Like many, if not most people, I've been driving since age 16 and am convinced that I'm good at it. I know what I'm doing, and how can there be any doubt that I'm a better driver than the unskilled, swerving-all-over-the-place, latte-sipping, cell phone addicts I share the roads of Southern California with? And I've always fancied myself a performance enthusiast, regardless of what I've actually driven. "Just give me a chance," I've believed, "and I'll show that I have the right stuff."

My reality check came when I actually got behind the wheel of a high-performance vehicle, namely the '01 Z06 I raved about in this past August's Driver's Seat. Yes, the car was a joy to drive, and I had a lot of fun in it. It also made me realize that when it comes to driving such a vehicle, I have more balls than brains--or ability, for that matter. In one particular butt-clenching, stomach-churning, "ohmygawddsavemeandI'llneverdoitagain" moment, I realized that I needed to 1) learn to behave myself, and 2) seek professional help as quickly as possible.

Help for point No. 1 will require self-restraint on my part; the tonic for point No. 2 came in the form of an invitation from GM to participate in a two-day session at the Bragg-Smith Advanced Driving School. I didn't have to be asked twice. I packed my things and headed for Las Vegas, where I joined a group of journalist types, along with Corvette Brand Manager Rick Baldic as well as Corvette and Camaro Assistant Brand Manager Scott Settlemire at the Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino on a Monday night. Come Tuesday morning, we boarded a van for the hour-or-so ride to Spring Mountain Motorsports Park, in Pahrump, Nevada, home of Rupert Bragg-Smith's track and instructional facilities. The sight of the school's fleet of stock Z06s, Z51 coupes, and SS Camaros was enough to immediately get the blood flowing, but we'd have to wait before turning a wheel.

The day started off with classroom work, led by Rupert Bragg-Smith himself, and this is where I started to realize there was a lot to learn. I hadn't felt so overwhelmed since I last found myself in a classroom full of graduate students discussing Deconstructionist theory, but I had worked to check my preconceptions at the door so I'd be ready to learn. Rupert started off by welcoming everyone, then launched right into the meat and potatoes of the school. He covered a lot of ground, most of it new to me, and I scribbled notes like mad as he talked. He covered subjects like driving position (you mean I haven't even been sitting right?), balancing the car with brake and throttle (huh?), and heel-and-toe shifting, among other things.

Most importantly, though, Rupert explained his key philosophy, "visual scanning." In simple terms, it goes like this: the hands control the car, and the eyes control the hands. Therefore, you must look where you want the car to go, not where it's going. Sounds simple, no? I thought so, until we took a "spin" in the skid car, where looking in the right direction (usually out a side window, while most of us look where we're skidding) was the only way to keep from spinning out, and when we hit the track, where it was critical to finding the apex of the turns. But more on that later...

We finally headed for the cars, yours truly feeling a bit apprehensive about applying all the new things I'd just heard. It shouldn't be too surprising that I went right for a Torch Red Z06, and the first step was to put what we've learned about driving position into practice. The ideal here was to gain "the mechanical advantage," as Rupert calls it. The only thing I had right was my hands; Editor Bob Wallace had clued me in about Bragg-Smith's "9 and 3" hand position months earlier, and I'd given up my one-handed over-the-top drape...everything else was new. Until that point, I had sat with the steering wheel at arm's length, so I could stretch out while just barely reaching the shift lever. Here I found myself on top of the wheel, arms and legs bent, with the seat bottom tilted up to provide leverage on the pedals. The seat back supported my shoulders so I could "push" the wheel, all while keeping my steering imputs smooth. It felt strange until we actually began to drive; then it felt just right.

We drove to the long main straight to practice heel-toe downshifting. The necessity of matching engine speed with road speed was something I knew a bit about, having once almost put myself on my head by downshifting a speeding motorcycle without doing so. As Bragg-Smith had stressed, it's critically important to smooth driving and keeping the car in its powerband. We accelerated to 60 mph before simultaneously braking and downshifting within a set distance, all as smoothly as possible. After working on my own for awhile, Instructor Dave Petri jumped in the car. After a couple of runs, he asked,

"Is that how you've been doing this?" I didn't know whether to say "yes" or "no," but when I finally 'fessed up, Dave said, "It's actually pretty good." We worked on my shifter hand, placing the arm for leverage and precision--elbow out, shifter knob in the center of my palm.

He also emphasized getting my hand back on the wheel in between shifts--I could've used a minder to slap my hand every time I left it on the shifter. Old habits die hard, but so far, so good.

After the aforementioned work in the skid car and a stint on a small oval, where we worked on hitting the apex, it was finally time for "shadow" laps on the track. Each group of five lined up behind an instructor, who talked each driver (in turn) through the track over the radios that the cars carry. The track is technical and twisty, and I felt a bit lost. It was here that the importance of visual scanning became evident. The apexes--where the turn ends and the exit begins--are marked. But if you're not looking ahead, you can't hit them. The instructors guided us, encouraging us to come within inches of the cones. It didn't start off easily, especially on the long, sweeping, turns. That myopic habit of looking right in front of the car is hard to break. I'd remember to look ahead after turning in, and would have to adjust in the middle of the turn. Squealing tires were the result as I cranked the wheel to get to that cone, though the Z06's suspension and tires are awfully forgiving of such miscalculations. Things did improve, however, and that was good enough for me.

Things got interesting after lunch, when we finally got to go for "open" laps on the track. Wanting to experience both Vettes, I grabbed a Magnetic Red coupe rather than a Z06, and found that I had even more to learn. The torquey Z06 does the entire track in third and fourth gears--the Coupe needs to drop down to second at several points. It took a few laps to get the shifting down, but it came. The braking is different as well--it took several laps of hearing a "grinding" noise for me to realize that I was braking too late and setting off the ABS. In turns like 5a and 5b, a close set of tight right-handers, I was right on: brake, shift, turn, clip the apex, unwind the wheel, get back on the gas, do it again. The longer turns tested me more, as I'd have to remember to look ahead. It got better as the session went on, and my lines through the turns became surer. I wasn't the fastest guy out there, and more than a few drivers flew past me on the main straight--the designated passing area--but I was getting faster.

Wednesday started off with a heel-toe warm-up before we moved on to the "Serpentine" exercise. We were told to treat each turn of the long series of tight "esses" as an apex. We each got a run to get the lay of the land, they lined up for another run--this time, with the front window blocked by a shade.

You could only look out the side windows, and turn when you saw the cone. We had no choice but to look where we needed to turn. The cones took a beating, but the point was made. The importance of visual scanning was again reinforced during a session in which we ran the track backwards, which brought up the question, "Can you figure out the line at any track?" The cones no longer marked the correct apex, so it was time to look ahead and figure it out. By the fifth lap, it made some sense, and got me thinking, "Hey, I can use this anywhere."

Heading the "correct" way again, I felt like things started to gel. Mid-corner corrections gave way to "flow." I still wasn't the fastest out there, but by the time we donned helmets for the "hot laps" sessions, it was working: brake, shift, turn in, clip the apex, unwind, accelerate. Next turn. As I got more turns right on each lap, the sensation of everything coming together was exhilarating. It took a lot of concentration, too, which is something I'd thought about but not really experienced. Running like this is fun, but it's hard work as well.

The end came too soon, and with much left to learn, as it always does. I gave Dave Petri a call a few days later to ask about how I'd done, and his words were encouraging.

"It didn't take you long to get the basics of the track," he recalled. "There was a huge improvement in vision. At first, in the early sessions, we'd see a sudden correction when you saw the apex. As the day progressed, you were looking ahead, and had a better understanding of where to be. You improved on that more so than the others." Did those lessons take? I hope so, 'cause the things that Bragg-Smith teaches are the best kind of knowledge: "portable" skills, which can be used almost anywhere. Only time will tell if is sticks. I will say, though, that I couldn't drive my car when I got back to the airport. Not until I moved the seat forward, anyway. I find myself looking a bit farther ahead than the spot right in front of my car. And there's a couple of turns on my daily drive that are worthy of some good heel-toe practice. All done within sane limits, of course. So far, so good.