I remember seeing that
an MG TC broke a front-end component, leaving one wheel independent of the steering
wheel. As the driver tried to turn right in the second half of the U-turn, the
car went straight off and came to rest parallel to the snow fence, both front
wheels pointing forward. He got off the car and looked, and could see nothing
wrong, so he got back in.
Car still wouldn't obey: as soon as he tried
to steer it, the loose wheel plowed in and grooved the ground. He got out, and
of course the wheels were pointed fine. This was repeated a couple more times,
until the driver finally listened to what spectators had been telling him from
the beginning. I don't remember how he got back to the pits, which were across
the track, well away from the crowd, on the far Southeast side of the start-finish
straight.
Here's
another one for the books: the TC driver sent an email message:
"I
was the guy in the TC Special that had the steering failure. It was like a severe
case of understeer. I don't remember anyone telling me what the problem was, but
it was no big problem getting back to the pits because as long as I drove slowly
the unsteered wheel tracked perfectly . . . "
Bill
Watkins
The
most poignant memory from that 50s trip was living in traffic on the return to
L.A.: hours of bumper-to-bumper, inching forward, raising eyebrows at the
row of British cars along the verge with their bonnets akimbo, steam rampant on
a field of frown. Allards, Healeys, MGs, JAG-you-ahs, a Singer. One of those EYE-talyun
Fuh-RARE-ee MAWN-dials with snakeskin on the fascia. I'd have traded my cool-running
'49 Ford for any of them. I'd imagine some of the drivers might have been tempted,
given the circumstances.