Denise McCluggage: Racing the Alfa at the Nurburgring P3

Drawing by Duane Unkefer

By Denise McCluggage

“I Go Pro” was written for and published by “Sports Cars Illustrated”, February, 1959 and is reprinted here with the permission of the author and artist.

THE FACTORY TEAMS had arrived for the Grand Prix of Germany. (A small championship race that was to follow mine.) A friend who happened to drive for Ferrari (yes, Phil Hill) offered to drive me in my car around the Ring, imparting wisdom enroute. It was a fast lap and a valuable one. But costly, too. Apparently in the thrashing about of the wheel, my benefactor’s hand had brushed the key case which was enough to jar the key which was enough for the bum switch to engage the starter motor and-well, like we were already going. And going very fast. Not until we stopped after a complete tour did we hear the hopeless grinding of the starter motor chewing itself into oblivion. Naturally, it was burned out (oh, the smell of it) and furthermore the starter ring gear was as toothless as an old hag.

But this, alone, would not have been so bad. It is no problem to push-start an Alfa and it was going to be a grid start so I could just leave the engine running and since I had no chance to beat the Alfa Zagatos or the specially-tuned Veloces, or the lighter-bodied Sprints even, there couldn’t possibly be a protest. And I wanted to run-if you will excuse a “pro” saying it-for the fun of it.

But Trouble and I had scarcely been properly introduced at this time. And we grew so close in the next few days.

After spending half the morning and the entire first practice session determining that the starter was irrevocably damaged, I then noticed that when the car was running, the red eye of the dynamo light was on, meaning that the dynamo was off for some reason or another.

The Alfa factory does not race officially any more, but they send a crew about to the major events to help Alfa owners. They are very helpful indeed. Without them, I would not only have wanted to push the Alfa over a cliff, I would have had to. The Alfa folk set about to determine what made the red light go on. It involved taking the dynamo off and putting it back several times, changing the voltage regulator, and all sorts of things. And mine wasn’t the only Alfa needing assistance of one sort or another. So, the first practice day disappeared down the drain, literally washed away by a slashing thunder shower that danced great torrents of water across the Ring.

Regulations required that contestants do at least six laps of official practice (for the six lap race, too), a sensible enough precaution for a 14-mile circuit. Fortunately, I had had my mark-per-lap informal practice. Six laps barely helps you understand the map.

Near the end of the second and last practice session, the car was at last without a red dynamo light glowing, although the starter switch was now out of its socket and dangling, and I proceeded to log my required laps.

At the Nurburgring, when you are making a timed lap, you start out from your pits, go down to the first curve that circles back to the straight behind the pits and then-instead of turning left and proceeding on the course-you turn right, through a hole in the fence. This put s you back on the front-of-the-pits straight again and allows you to pass the timing stand so that they can make the proper notations. I made the “little lap” and went roaring off on my first officially-timed lap on the Nurburgring.

It was probably the longest lap ever recorded at the Ring, if it was recorded at all. I had gone about a mile and a half barely out of sight of the pits, when the car stopped. Just stopped. I got out (slammed the door very hard) and trudged back along the course, jumped a few ditches, crawled through one fence, over another, and finally reached the garage area. Then with an Alfa mechanic in tow, I retraced the steeplechase to the car.

The mechanic soon located the problem. Nothing to it. An ignition fuse had blown. Nothing to it at all except that it did it again a few miles further along. Fortunately, the mechanic was still with me. That starter switch had to go. Clearly, it was the cause of the whole trouble. It had stuck on, burning out the starter. It had blown two fuses. It etc. etc. (Berlitz was not responsible for the choice words with which I described the electrical system of Alfas.)
Back in the garage again we swapped switches with some innocent by-standing Alfa and I charged off for another timed lap on the Nurburgring.

This time a spark plug wire bounced off half way around. So I stopped again.

And then I got a trouble-free lap or two, at least relatively trouble free. I never did get time to put in a seat belt and I never got used to sitting on the door through most of the turns. But anyway, I was in the race-stamped, signed and officially qualified.

It was great fun, the race. I passed some cars, was passed by some (even lapped since the sports cars ran with the Gran Turismos) and I had a fun-sort of dice with another Alfa. I finished seventh of the Giuliettas (there were a few behind me, too) and I enjoyed every second of it.

The next day, I went to collect my 450 DM without a qualm. (I was also given a special prize-girls can’t lose, especially if you’re the only one. It was a fitted picnic kit and a plaque on it that said, “Grosser Preis von Deutschland”.)

And so I was a pro. I held a small private ceremony at which I burned my S.C.C.A. competition license. Then, I packed my little green picnic kit, scrubbed the numbers off my car, pushed it slightly downhill to start it and headed back toward Italy.

The dynamo fell off before I reached Cologne.

Click on image to order print of Denise McCluggage’s photo “Ferrari Makes a Point.”

Read Part 1
Read Part 2