Go-karts seem like amusements in carnivals that are only of interest to children ... until you know that seven-time World Driving Champion, Michael Schumacher, loves to race them just as do many other big-name drivers. Practically everyone in my family also raced them as go-karts accelerated faster than anything else I ever discovered until I ran into big bikes.
When we were racing them, go-karts were even faster than they are today as there were very few rules. Back then it was ok to put two heavily-modified motors on the kart and the result was a vehicle with combined driver/kart weight of less than two hundred kilos and running sixty or more horsepower. With one horsepower for every two or three kilos, you've got a racing machine that will throw you back in the seat like nothing you ever drove in your life.
There are some more items to note about go-karts as there is no body around the kart so you will definitely go flying if you hit something. There is no suspension so nothing will stay flatter going around a corner. Best of all, the frame of the kart is about 2.5 centimeters off the ground and that low you get a sensation of speed that you flat out won't believe.
So, some stories:
There are two types of go-kart races: sprint races run over a short track of about half a kilometer and the karts are geared for maximum acceleration while enduro races run over normal road tracks used by GT cars and the like. For the enduro races, the karts will be geared for speed rather than acceleration and you can't have both as go-karts don't have transmissions. The top speed of a go-kart with two motors back then was about two hundred kph.
No-one in the family had successfully completed an enduro race as something would always break. When you run heavily-modified motors, it's not uncommon for them to explode and maybe you'll get really lucky with it catching fire. The Mermaid motors in Australia were notorious for catching fire, quite the spectacular event in a night race.
My ol' Dad drove the kart with the dual motors but my brother and I were still young so we raced a single-motor go-kart. The family didn't have much money in the early days so we shared the same kart. The only way to share the kart in an enduro race is to come in for a pit stop halfway through the race to switch drivers. This meant we would lose the race but that was ok as both of us got a ride out of it.
Later on each of us had our own kart and I was lucky enough to be driving the one that looked like it would be the first to complete an enduro. Each race lasts for an hour so there's plenty of time to think about it as you're cranking along but the race wasn't without incident.
The gas tank for my kart was mounted under the steering column so it was tucked between my legs which ran over it to the brake and the accelerator pedals on the front. There was a little problem with this approach as I discovered as the race proceeded. The little problem was that the gas tank leaked all over the place, particularly all over me.
I knew I had the problem as I was soaked from my gut to my knees in gasoline but I was young and stupid and I was determined to finish the race. I'm ostensibly a fairly intelligent individual and you might think such an individual would consider that any spark would have started a fire that would make me go up like a Roman candle but, yah, I was young and stupid and wanted to finish.
Sure enough, I did finish and was the first in the family to do it so that made me the hero, yahoo.
But that's not the end of the story. If you have ever had a Zippo lighter that leaked in the pocket of your blue jeans then you already know the rest of the story as lighter fluid or gasoline will make exposed skin will make it feel like you just stuck a burning poker in your pocket. See above about being soaked from my stomach to my knees. I didn't have to catch fire, I was already there.
I didn't have any monopoly on doing stupid things as Lotho has a piece of that action too. He loved sprint races as these are extremely-fast vehicular dogfights that are extremely-competitive and as exciting as you would ever want.
One of the sprint tracks on which we raced was at Camden, Ohio, and one of things that drew people back to it was a Monza turn, heavily-steeped, at the end of one of the straights. The Monza was so steep that you couldn't walk up it when it was wet. In a race you'd hit this thing doing somewhere around one hundred and thirty kph and go around it sideways. Attempting this feat often resulted in what would win you the Camden Pilot's License when you flew off the top of the bank and got some big air before coming to a big bump on the other side.
Lotho was very fast and I'm not sure if he was the first to get his Camden Pilot's License but it was in the middle of a race. All of us were and probably still are extremely-competitive and he absolutely did not want to lose that race. Amazingly, he wasn't injured in the crash and, after he and the kart stopped bouncing, he was screaming back to the pits, start me up, start me up, get me back into it. When we got to him, he was sitting in the kart all ready to go and this was when my ol' Dad handed him something that had broken off in the crash and asked him if he thought he would need it. The object was the steering wheel.
Not everything we did was stupid. Doc is the middle brother between Lotho and I and he was just as competitive as everyone else, probably more so. This next incident took place before Lotho started driving and we were at a track in California for a practice day. These were party days as no-one else would be there and you could do whatever you liked.
My ol' Dad thought it would be a swell idea to take some of his graduate students out to the track to introduce them to racing. These were classic collegiate college guys with beards and sports cars who thought, wow, I am really some kind of driver, man.
By this time we had quite a collection of go-karts so my ol' Dad sent one of the collegiates out to run around the track for a while. We watched him getting more confident and getting faster until he seemed he was about at his limit. I don't know if my ol' Dad had this idea from the start but he got the thought this would be a good time for a practical joke.
Doc and I were directed to our karts and he told us to go get him. Both of us thought don't mind if we do, Dad, and off we went in our karts.
Doc and I circled the track, keeping pace with each other and staying opposite the collegiate so we could watch him and get ready to make the move. After we stalked him for a bit, we started picking up the pace and we timed it so we would be coming onto the main straight just as the collegiate was about halfway down it.
When we got onto the straight, both of us hit it so we had the motors screaming and we were going full-bore by the time we got to the end of the straight ... which was at the same time as the collegiate got there.
The collegiate never knew what him as he was thinking he was going so fast when he set up for the corner at the end of the street but suddenly he's got Doc and I on each side of him, our motors screaming and going absolutely hell for leather. The collegiate freaked right out, threw his hands up, and went straight off the track in a big cloud of dust.
Doc and I chuckled to ourselves over a job well done and returned to the pits. (The collegiate wasn't hurt. He was a bit embarrassed but no harm done.)
Stop me, I've got a million of 'em.
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