Photograph by David S. Wallens
It was supposed to be a chill, laid-back track day–the Grassroots Motorsports Track Day at the FIRM–where we and our readers are welcomed by our official test track for a full day of open pit lane and easy lapping. We were joined by Randy Pobst, too!
And since he’d never driven our endurance race car–an LFX V6-swapped Miata–I figured this was the perfect place to finally put him in it. I walked Randy over to the car, and he instantly landed in the driver’s seat like a bumblebee in a flower. “Glad you fit,” I said, “but let me take the car out for a few laps first to get it warmed up and make sure everything is okay. Then I’ll hop out and the car is yours.” We had no idea just how quickly I’d be hopping out.
This was a car we’ve done dozens of races in–one we’d already cleaned up, inspected and prepped after its last race, marking it “good to go” for its next one. It was as “ready to go” as one of our cars can get, save for the fresh brake pads we normally install in the paddock after a race weekend’s practice sessions. If you’re picturing some untested science experiment, this wasn’t it.
Which is why I was so surprised when it was suddenly on fire. Braking into the first corner after the FIRM’s longest straight, I saw a puff of white smoke from the left front accompanied by a distinct lack of deceleration.
“Crap,” I thought, “I must have popped a brake line or something weird.” Then the car instantly spun 180 degrees.
I now know why: because oil was being pumped onto the track beneath my tires. And wow, that smoke turned into fire! A minor inconvenience had now turned into the most dangerous part of racing. I almost couldn’t believe it–I’d never been on fire before, and you’d think it would at least send you an email or something to let you know it was on your schedule, right? No warning. No warmup. Just, “Hey, you’re on fire.”
I got the Miata under control, sliding to a stop right in front of a corner station, then the next few seconds were a blur–one I can mostly remember because we had in-car video running the whole time. My bailout practice took over, and within a few seconds, I was out of the car and waving off the workers running toward me with extinguishers. The fire was already out, and the Miata was still and quiet aside from the hissing of its fire system and the huge pool of oil creeping its way out from underneath.
Looking through the trackside photos, this was a small fire: flames filling the engine bay and bursting a foot or two out of the hood vents, with flaming oil falling to the oil puddle beneath the car. I estimate we lost 4 to 6 quarts in the incident–plenty to burn the car to the ground.
The cause? A completely broken (name-brand) fitting on the car’s remote oil filter adapter line sprayed oil directly onto the header. The fix took me a few minutes, and the fire system worked so quickly that I didn’t even have so much as a melted wire to fix: just some minor soot and a whole lot of oil to clean up. I drove the car again about an hour after pulling it off the trailer.
So, what did I learn? First, fire systems are worth every single penny. The Miata had an oversized Novec 1230 system from SPA Technique with three redundant activation methods: electronic, manual cable and automatic thermal bulb.
Speaking of pennies: Don’t hesitate to pull that cable, either, because my fire looked way smaller from inside the car. I had a brief moment of being cheap and not wanting to waste the system on something small. Turns out I would have spent hundreds or thousands of dollars more to fix the inevitable damage if I’d let it burn.
Second, safety gear doesn’t work if you don’t wear it. And bad things can (and do) happen in non-competitive situations.
[Track days: Is there such a thing as too safe?]
Like most track days, this one only required a helmet. I won’t get into a race car without full gear, and let me tell you: I felt wonderful about that superstition as I watched flames dance out of the hood. Safety gear is no guarantee, but at least you can feel smug while your car is burning.
Third, practice your bailouts. I practice in every car and before every event, which is why I was able to stay calm and get out of the Miata so quickly.
And lastly, there’s always room for improvement–because I skipped a critical step that could have made this incident so much worse. Electrically actuated systems like this one are powered by a 9V battery, and I test it before every session with the little “test” button.
Did you know there’s a test mode for the wiring, too? I tested the connection when I installed the system, but hadn’t since, which is why I had no idea there was a broken wire in the circuit. That’s right: The Miata’s fire button did nothing when I pressed it on track. Hooray for the cable backup release–and the automatic thermal bulb that would have theoretically popped the bottle if the passenger compartment had gotten too warm.
This could have been a column about the loss of my race car–or worse–but ultimately, it was about an old adage that I sadly tested in real life: Fire burns just as hot on a test day.
I've touched on this before but my one and only car fire was on a test day. Much like your Miata the motor let loose and caused an oil fire.............going into the fastest corner on the track (around 130mph).
I wear all the gear all the time because things happen.
As I was sitting here trying to come up with something witty to say about Randy getting in the car after you "warmed it up" for him my brain went down a more serious path.
I started thinking about how many different student and customer race cars I've climbed in without taking the time to know how to activate the fire system or shutoff the master kill switch. I should do that.
Then I started thinking about how much of the bailout practice I do on my own cars will translate to other cars. I can't see me practicing in another car but I really should at least think about potential challenges for getting out while I'm strapping in.
My last thought was really more of a question for Tom. When you said you drove the car again that day did you mean that it was moving under it's own power or did you mean you had it out on the track? If it was the later I question the wisdom of doing that with a discharged fire suppression system right after proving the value of a functional system. Of course I'm questioning that from a distance. I might have done the same exact thing.
Tom’s at HPX but, after the fire, the car didn’t go back on track–just into the trailer and home to the shop.
David S. Wallens said:Tom’s at HPX but, after the fire, the car didn’t go back on track–just into the trailer and home to the shop.
Good choice and, a smarter one than I might have made.
Yeah, that was enough excitement for one day.
I had a engine fire just in my driveway, on a car that has been together, highly maintained and driven for a decade. In my vain attempts of not waking the neighbors I didn't fallow my general startup processes. That became costly once it backfired out the intake and lit the filter elements on fire. Thankfully i had a fire extinguisher on hand, this could have be far worse. Img is me blowing the fire extinguisher dust out of the engine bay to evaluate the damage. Tl:dr E36 M3 happens generally at the worst of times, do everything you can to be prepared for it.
No mask? brave man.
I remember the first time I had to wear "full gear" when I drove my buddy's WRL NB.
With my own NA track rat, it had no top, 4-pt roll bar, fixed back seats and 5-pt harnesses. So it was easy to get in and out of and look around. It was just closed toe shoes, long pants, long sleeves at Hallett.
His NB I felt pretty claustrophic in it. Full cage, nets, HANS device, couldn't really get my hand out the window for a point by (it was a WRL track weekend, not a race weekend). It was difficult to get comfortable like that in just one weekend.
True, a caged Miata can feel tight. First time I drove my friend’s SSC Miata, I was like, um, this is different....
I haven't been wearing a fire suit in my track day Miata since it has no top and a factory fuel system, so it at least feels safe enough that I can bail quickly if things got toasty. For the stock car though, I plan to only drive that in full gear head to toe - it's much tighter and harder to get out of, and it generally feels like it requires a higher level of safety precautions to be taken.
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