The filming was tricky for two
reasons.by Barbara Spear
It was 6 a.m. and the sky was just getting light as I arrived at Barnes Airport in Westfield, MA. WGBY’s camera crew was unpacking gear and the Bakeracing BR-1 was already unloaded from its trailer. Nearby an 1893 Duryea was parked beside its trailer. Members of the Duryea team, Bakeracing team, and WGBY were conferring with airport manager, George Gifford, to coordinate the filming schedule.
By the time I collected my camera gear, everyone was ready to move onto the airport’s 9000 foot long main runway to begin the shoot. I called a greeting to Kim Baker, who was standing beside his BR-1 Corvette. "Hop in," he said, offering me a ride to the runway.
Kim’s heavily modified ZR-1 race car wasn’t happy driving slowly to the runway. It chugged and sputtered, itching to speed up and show its stuff.
After a few minutes of organization and instructions, we began the carefully choreographed shoot. Richard Stevens drove his hand-built 1893 Duryea replica down the centerline of the runway toward the video camera. At the right moment, Kim roared past the Duryea in his BR-1. This video segment contrasted the winner of the first American road race with a current road race winner. The Duryea moved at its top speed of 7.5 mph. The BR-1 roared by at a speed in excess of 200 mph.
The filming was tricky for two
reasons.
First, the early morning mist made it virtually impossible to see Kim coming from the far end of the runway. At the speed he was traveling, you couldn’t even hear his car until it almost overtook the Duryea. To solve this problem, George drove to the end of the runway and flashed his high beams as soon as Kim began to roll.
Second, to fit the two vehicles into the video, Kim’s BR-1 had to pass the Duryea within 2 feet. If Kim flinched, it would be the end of the Duryea, its driver, and those of us who stood with cameras in the center of the runway.
Thankfully, Kim’s driving skills were up to their usual standards—despite the early hour. He easily blew by the Duryea within the tight margin needed.
After a few takes the video crew noted that, at the speed Kim’s BR-1 was traveling, their camera saw few details beyond the Vette and its color. Kim and anything else in the car was invisible to the camera. Armed with this knowledge, Kim nodded to me and again said, "Hop in."
I gracelessly flopped over the safety bar into the BR-1’s passenger seat, carefully clutching the two 35mm cameras that were slung around my neck. I was searching for a seat belt when Kim asked whether I wanted a crew member to get the spare helmet. Realizing that there was no seat belt to hold me, Kim noted, "I guess a helmet won’t make much difference without a seatbelt." (No kidding. The helmet might only make it easier to break through the windshield on launch.) Having "resolved" the safety issue, we started down the runway.
At the far end of the runway there was a teacup-handle turn that looped back to the runway. At the other end of the runway, there was a dead end, so Kim had to make a U-turn to return to the start point. From my original vantage point with the other cameramen, I’d heard nothing when Kim looped around to begin his run. I’d always heard squealing tires when he made the U-turn.
Kim picked up speed as soon as we left the cameramen. We were moving very quickly as we entered the teacup-handle turn, so my main concern was to keep myself and my cameras on my side of the car. I knew it wouldn’t be good to accidentally flop into Kim’s lap, or to let one of my cameras bump his elbow.
The BR-1 vibrated heavily as we sped down the runway. As we entered the turn, the Vette slid sideways and Kim rapidly moved the steering wheel from left to right. His steering zig-zagged the Vette, but I realized that it was actually keeping us on course through the turn and allowing us to gain speed in the turn and slingshot onto the runway.
The straight shot down the smooth runway felt like a zillion bumps as the Vette vibrated heavily the whole way. Everything outside the car was a blur, except for the Duryea and camera crew—which were little black dots we passed.
When we neared the end of the runway, the high-pitched whine changed as Kim down-shifted. I instinctively pushed my feet against the floor as I felt myself lunging forward. As we spun around to make the U-turn, Kim asked how I liked the ride. I assured him I did, so he zoomed back for another run.
Even as we redrove the runway to get back to the start, I felt the adrenaline speeding up my senses. I found my eyes scanning the distant runway, then quickly glancing at the pavement closer to us. My eyes and brain had finally synchronized to the speed. My focus had to be on what was ahead because it would be too late to react to anything that suddenly appeared directly in front of us. Having made that adjustment, I could better distinguish the cameramen as we blew by them.
As we entered the loop at the far end of the runway, I was ready for the pull from centrifugal force and eagerly anticipated the rush of adrenaline I’d feel as we slingshot onto the runway. Even the slight herky-jerky zig-zags Kim took to keep us on course didn’t lessen that rush. The race down the straight runway felt great and I barely noticed the constant vibrations. I felt comfortable enough to take one of my cameras and try to focus. The U-turn was over almost before my ears picked up the change in whine pitch from the down-shifting. On the return run, I made a serious attempt to hold a camera steady and get a few shots of the view through the windshield.
The second time we took the teacup-handle turn Kim noted that his Vette was running out of gas, so I was surprised when Kim felt there was enough fuel for one last run. There was, but he slowed to a stop beside the camera crew as we came back up the runway after that third run. As I climbed out of his BR-1 I asked Kim how fast we’d gone.
"We were doing about 230," he replied.
"Oh," I said with disappointment, "I thought you were aiming for 240."
Kim smiled then explained, "Well, that’s my best estimate for now. The speedometer doesn’t work, so I’ll calculate our actual speed later."
During the ride, my senses were too busy collecting information for my brain to analyze anything. Once I had a chance to reflect, I came up with the following thoughts.
Though I once topped-out a Camaro at 175 mph on a straight-away, that driving sensation did not give me a basis for comparison to the sensation of moving at speeds that were well in excess of 200 mph. Unless you’ve actually experienced a vehicle moving at such high speed, you can’t imagine how quickly sights, sound, and movement bombard your senses.
In the teacup-handle turn, I realized that everything I knew about working a fishtail and sliding through a turn didn’t apply to sweeping through a turn at such a high speed. If I’d been driving and applied my knowledge, we’d have skidded off the runway before we got started.
The body is amazingly able to adjust and compensate. After the first run, my senses adjusted to the accelerated pace at which new information bombarded them.
At high speed, there’s a world of difference between driving with a daredevil and driving with a professional. Having known Kim for many years, I felt confident in his driving skills and his car. This relieved me of having to fear for my safety, and allowed me to focus my attention on how he drove the course and how the ride felt.
Kim called with the actual speeds for our runs. He noted that it takes about 4 miles to get the BR-1 up to top speed. On the 9000 foot runway, we only had 7000 feet for acceleration, since we had to use 2000 feet for the U-turn. Our top speed in the teacup handle turn was 115 mph at the point where we slid onto the runway. On the straight-away, our top speed was 241 mph.
You can own Kim Baker's BR-1. It's for sale at his cyberbooth at the Yankee Lady Corvette Swap Meet. If you’d like to own a Vette that’s similar to Kim’s, he offers a BR-1 turnkey model as well as a BR-1 kit. Click Here to visit the Baker Automotive cyberbooth, or call Bakeracing at 413-596-9475 for details.
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cannot be reproduced without the written permission of the original author or the Yankee
Lady Corvette .
Copyright Barbara Spear 1996, 1997, January 1998