Where’s the corner, the hill, the corkscrew that should have eaten your lunch, yet you somehow, miraculously survived?
I was taking my old ‘05 Saabaru (Cobb Stage 2, various bits of turbo plumbing, Wilwood brake kit, STI short shifter, Dunlop Direzza tires) down Blacksnake Road in my hometown of Hot Springs Arkansas. It was night, probably 10 or 11, overcast, and the road was wet with drizzle.
I’d been driving this road since I learned to drive. My dad thought it had everything I needed to learn about car control, and I did in in a 1983 VW Rabbit with a 4-speed manual. So driving the road in a good car made me... overconfident.
I overcooked the corner below and very nearly ate tree. The entire series is pretty complex, between the corkscrews and elevation changes, plus the surface, the narrowness, and the fact that if you drop a tire off the road surface you’re scattering leaves and pine needles. It’s normally tons o’ fun. This time, not so much. I was able to slow down enough that when the tires regained a smidge of traction I was able to clutch kick the thing around the corner. Actually, I probably just panicked and was saved by divine intervention, because I don’t recall having any control whatsoever.