Feature story	The Phantom Woos the Ace

By Katie Kelly

Ace reporter

Has this ever happened to you?

Just try to understand my perspective. It's last Spring. I'm just sitting there at work, minding my own business, and I get this message from Joe Cheng. Oh, Joe Cheng, I think to myself. He's that nice fellow who built the fastest autocross car in the world with Gary Milligan, 1998 Driver of Eminence, who just happens to be an idol of mine. And what about that Phantom! Wow, that A Mod Phantom, the fastest autocross car in the world, sure is neat. I wonder what it's like in Vancouver, BC. I bet it's beautiful there, with no road rage. I wonder what it's like there in July. I bet people there are really nice. I wonder if I'll ever go there.

So, I open up this email, and this is what it said.

"Dear Ace, I was wondering if you'd be interested in flying up to beautiful Vancouver, BC, in late July, the most spectacular time of year here, to test drive the Phantom, the fastest autocross car in the world. Signed, Joe Cheng."

Oh my gosh! What are the odds!

The months up to this significant event of giant proportions in my life were long and difficult. It was a tremendous challenge for me to keep this a secret and not annoy nearly every autocrosser who knows of the Phantom's rich racing record: three A Mod National Championships, '96-98, two with Gary and one with Joe. In no year was the race even close. It was number one

on the PAX by seconds. It has changed the face of A Modified forever.

Finally, after months of anticipation, the moment arrived. I was off on an airplane to Vancouver, BC, to test drive the Phantom. This test would be at the Boundary Bay Airport, the Cheng/Milligan secret Phantom Headquarters, located just south of Vancouver. The occasion: the West Coast Can-Am Challenge event, July 31 through August 1, a must-attend event if you're ever in the Pacific Northwest in late July.

Their top secret testing grounds is a narrow, active runway in the middle of a big field. We arrived there Friday afternoon so Joe, the event's chair, could open the gates and registration for Can-Am contestants. It would also be a chance for me to get some seat time in the Phantom as a means of preventing any sort of public humiliation on a larger scale the following day.

I must say, there were some things about this test period that had me nervous. Through out the entire Can-Am Challenge, student pilots practiced their landings. They flew directly over us, and landed just beyond the autocross course. This did not comfort me.

There were also some incredibly tall crops growing next to us that had me worried. The Phantom might sound like a powerful lawn mower, but I'd hate to be the one to test it.

Yet, neither Joe nor Gary seemed the slightest bit fazed. I sense that this lot is what aided them in their tremendous concentration skills.

But what I saw next did not soothe the butterflies. Can-Am entrants were already walking the course!

Gary declared it was time to get into the Phantom.

"But there are all these people already walking the course!"

"Don't worry. They'll avoid you."

Said Joe: "And hey, if you see a plane taxiing, you've gone too far down the runway."

It is no wonder to me that Canadians invented ice hockey.

So, I get in the Phantom. Thanks to Joe's specially formulated seat created just for me the night before, right in front of Gary Milligan's house I might add (I know where he lives, folks. I have SEEN where he lives!), I fit perfectly in the Phantom.

So, here's how Gary explained how to drive the Phantom. "This is your gas pedal on the right, and this is the brake on the left. Don't step on the

brake and gas at the same time." Simple enough. No shifting! Then he explained how to start the car, and how its special computer monitor worked, and what everything means. I can't lie, I don't remember a thing he said, except for one thing, which was, "Don't worry. It's benign."

Like a TUMOR?! I didn't ask.

It was time for my test runs. As instructed, the Phantom, powered by some sort of two-stroke snow mobile motor, makes a lot of noise while you sit there until you reach about 4,000 rpm. Make sure you gingerly put your foot towards the floor, and the Phantom effortlessly rolls into a smooth glide and you're off. This pleased me, because the first time I had to actually move the car, I was afraid because the car pointed directly at Joe's Miata. Crashing his Phantom into his Miata would not be good.

As there were people walking the course, I kept my lines straight. There were also two rows of some sort of crop on my right and left, and I could not fathom how one would turn the Phantom. I'd have to figure that out the next day.

Traveling at a phenomenal rate down the runway, the cones and people were a blur to me, as the Phantom planted itself lower into the concrete surface. I'm sure I outran the plane flying directly over head. I noticed as I picked up speed that there was a low rumbling sound. Was this Mach 1?

"The Phantom has no limit," Joe told me later that night over another fantastic Chinese meal. "At least not one we can find. It's amazing that someone like Gary Milligan, who's driven some of the fastest, best engineered cars in autocross, says even he can't find the limit."

None of this comforted my nerves, you see, but I did have one thing going for me for Saturday morning: there would be no course walkers.

The plan was that A Mod Ladies would run in the first group, and A Mod in the third and final group. From a strategic, competitive standpoint, I knew I wouldn't have a chance to watch and mimic Joe and Gary. But from a spiritual, emotional level, I was pleased. I was driving the Phantom! Besides, I figured I could at least say, "They made me run in the morning, what do you expect?"

Gary walked the course with me Saturday morning and gave me some stellar advice: "You'll discover that you might take some really funky lines. Just ignore it and keep on going."

I thought that was the craziest advice I'd ever heard! On the other hand, all my piano lessons made sense. I'll get to that later.

I must first explain a little of the emotional dynamic. I was a foreigner in a foreign land. Nobody, save for a few very friendly Northwesterners from Seattle, knew who the heck I was. Occasionally, I would take momentary mental reality checks, as I did for my first run. Does this ever happen to you? You're just going along, and then it suddenly hits you, "Oh my gosh, all my friends are watching football and I'm in Canada, driving the Phantom." It was a very emotional, sentimental experience for me, okay? This is a car that I dreamed about, but never thought I'd touch. It's like that Talking Heads song, "You may find yourself behind the wheel of a very fast automobile. And you ask yourself, my God, how did I get here?!"

The cones whizzed by me. The g-force was intensely strong. I'm in the fastest autocross car in the world. I am in the most beautiful city in the world. I am surrounded by fields of wheat. My neck has been pulled out of its socket. My eyes have welled up with tears. Has Jim McKamey ever driven like THIS?!

"Not bad for your first run," Joe told me. "You drove like you were driving a stock car."

There are three principals to driving the Phantom.

1. Downforce is IT. In order to drive the car quickly, you must enter the turns accelerating to facilitate Downforce.

2. Do not bother with thinking. You don't have time to think. You just have to know.

3. If you take funky lines, take them like you mean it. No one will notice.

Ah ha. Take funky lines, pretend like you mean it. So, THAT'S what Gary meant. Luckily, this wasn't too hard for me to figure out. You know, it's not like I ever planned any part of my run. I felt lucky if I even knew where I was. What got me through was my somehow strange ability to improvise. You know, make it up as you go along. On my first run, I was very self-conscious of where I was on course. I thought it would be really obvious to the course workers that I was clueless. So, I would drive slower, in an attempt to get on the right line. According to Gary and Joe, that's just all wrong. Because if you drive conservatively in an effort to find the right line, you're not going to use the downforce and downforce is the key to Phantom success!

Well, then. I won't worry about lines, I told myself. I will just end up wherever I end up, but pretend like I mean it!

This all reminds me of a trick I learned from my piano teacher, Mrs. Alfano. Ah HA! If you're playing a piece on the piano, and you hit a wrong note, do not go back and fix it. Just keep on playing. No one will notice. Let it "accentuate" your performance. Personalize it. I never thought this would apply to autocross! God bless you, Mrs. Alfano!

But how do you convince your brain to accelerate entering a turn? This perplexes me, even still.

Joe and Gary spent hundreds of hours developing this car, even spending time in a wind tunnel, with the goal of designing an A Mod car to generate enough down-force where the faster you enter the turn, the better the adhesion.

From a cerebral stand point, this makes enough sense. Of course, if it's a land speed record you're looking for (so much for Mach 1), you won't find it in the Phantom. There comes a point where the downforce actually slows you down. But for autocross purposes, where the goal is to go around sharp turns as quickly as possible, enter the turn accelerating. This in turn forces the air to flow over these large wings which push the car down, making it possible to go through the turn at an ungodly rate. Physically, this is possible. Mentally is an entirely different enchilada.

"You just have to believe it works," said Joe. "You can't see or touch it. You must trust that it's there. You must believe in the downforce." The more I talked to Joe, the more I felt like I was in the middle of the Star Wars trilogy.

There was another aspect that just blew me away. Literally. The direction of the wind! If it's behind you, the car is totally loose. If you're driving straight into it, you feel limitless. If it's coming at you sideways, well, don't ask me.

"This is something we're working on for next year," said Gary. Was he winking, or was that dust in his eye? "We're working on a special wind barometer, with which we can quickly and accurately test the direction of the wind, atmospheric pressure, and adjust the wing placement accordingly."

Oh my GOD! Was this a JOKE?

This gave me a small peep into the mindset of the duo that has created the fastest autocross car in the world, one that no car in A Modified, the fastest Solo II class, can even come close to approaching. Others across the country try to duplicate it, but says Gary, "That's the weakness. You can't duplicate it. If you want to beat it, you have to build something better."

Joe attributes the car's superiority to those long Canadian winters. "See, I figure, in California, you're all good drivers because you can drive all year long. You get more practice," he said. "Up here in Canada, we only have a few months of driving time. So, we have to use all fall, winter, and spring to develop our cars."

Wow. Imagine what they'd build if they lived in Alaska!

Clearly neither Joe nor Gary are afraid to tweak the car at a moment's notice. I was amazed when, during one of my runs, Joe noticed the car was understeering. I thought this was a criticism of my driving, and then he said, "Well, let me fix it."

Whoa, what? "But Joe," I said. "The car is working fine. I'll adjust my driving."

"Oh, no, you can't think like that," said Joe. "I learned this from Gary. I used to say, 'Gary, why are you changing the car all the time? It's so good

already!' And Gary said, 'Sure it's good. But why settle for good, when you can make it BETTER?'"

After a weekend of driving with these guys, swapping jokes, and talking out of our derrieres, I could see they're out for a lot more than to just win. They race to play. "Hey!" Gary told me, in one of our Who's the Biggest Smart-Ass contests, "I'm just a boy!" I told my dad that later, and he said, "Katie. He's right."

Is the Phantom the key to lost youth?

I also encountered two of the best sports in autocross. Here I am, driving with two ingenious car developers and drivers, they've let me into their world, and my stomach hurts from all the laughing. The graciousness I received, not just from Joe and Gary, but from everyone in the Boundary Bay Airport, I will never forget. I really was treated like a queen, or should I say, if I were a queen, I would much rather drive a Phantom in Vancouver than wear large, dangly jewelry. Thank you, Joe, thank you for this gift.

Sadly, the Phantom did not make its way to Topeka, KS this year. At $1.60 for every Canadian dollar, the exchange rate is tough. "Besides," laughed Joe, "we have to give everyone else a chance to catch up."

I boarded that Bay Area bound plane Sunday night after some Japanese food with Gary. Thanks for the Miata set-up tips, by the way, wink wink! Once in the airport, I could hardly take it anymore, and I finally had to call my mom and dad at the pay phone. I'm standing there in the airport, holding my helmet bag, screaming, "Oh my GOD!" I got a lot of stares.

The plane was delayed by two hours, and then was crowded to the max, I was hot, sweaty, I thought I lost my plane ticket, the stewardess was a total wench and I hardly ever say that about people, and I was not excited about landing in Oakland.

But there was Lucy waiting for me in the parking lot, ever so patiently as cars are known to do. We drove home through the Bay Area night traffic in silence. She seemed a little soft, a little slow, but all was good. I had something to dream about that hot summer's night.

My message to all you little girls out there, if you're like me, and you too gave your Barbie dolls super human powers, and you too feel more comfortable racing a Big Wheel than shopping for clothes, and you too find yourself practicing endless piano scales and wondering what's the point, do not fret. Work on your corner exit speed on your Big Wheel. Your dreams will come true.