Word: brm
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...BRM - Basic Rifle Marksmanship - is perhaps the centerpiece of our training, as it is the one skill that makes a soldier truly useful. Some of us were already good at it; the rest had to learn that it was more art than science. Get comfortable. Aim straight. Stop breathing. Squeeze the trigger, gently. Targets pop up? You knock 'em down. Simple as that, and damn satisfying...
...most of the year trying to beg, borrow or buy a competitive engine. But for last week's U.S. Grand Prix at Watkins Glen, N..Y, the next-to-last race of the J966 season, Jim had a three-liter of his own-a 16-cylinder, 400-h.p. BRM. Then, in practice just a day before the race, his new engine broke down...
Determined to appear at least, Clark persuaded BRM officials to lend him a backup three-liter that belonged to BRM's own racing team of Graham Hill and Jackie Stewart. Mechanics worked all night installing the engine in Jim's Lotus; the job was not completed until ten minutes before race time. With no chance to test the engine, Jim figured that his chances of winning-or even of finishing the 248-mile race-were about 1,000 to one. "It was 30 laps before I tried to put on any pressure to see what would happen...
...Parts. Offered the wheel of a blood-red factory Ferrari in 1958, Gurney came within an ace of victory at Le Mans and again at Rheims; both times his co-drivers wrecked the cars. At the Dutch Grand Prix in 1960, the brakes failed on his British-built BRM; the car hurtled off the track killing a spectator and breaking Gurney's left arm. Nowhere has Gurney's luck been worse than at his home-town Riverside International Raceway, a course he knows blindfolded. Last March, he won a $13,250 stock car race, but his Chevrolet...
Moss had hoped for rain ("I do better in the wet"), but a bright sun warmed the crowd of 72,000. Settling into the cockpit of his low-slung, pale green Lotus, Moss joshed Rival Graham Hill, who was piloting a faster BRM: "Don't try too hard, Graham, or you'll blow it up." He screwed in his earplugs, snapped his helmet strap and adjusted his goggles. "Hey," he yelled to Mechanic Tony Robinson. "Where's my chewing gum?" Robinson handed him a stick. Moss waved. "Here goes," he said. Then, exhaust crackling fiercely, he roared...