The entire South African motorsport fraternity can be divided into two groups. Those with racing-car trailers, and those without. I unfortunately fall into the latter.
Not a big deal usually, because my historic racing Mercedes-Benz is road registered and because I race only within the Northern Regions championship, most tracks are within driving distance. However, the Phakisa circuit in Welkom falls into my calendar once a year and driving a hot, hard and extremely fuel-inefficient racecar nearly 300km is way out of the question. What to do?
I've got half of the towing equation sorted courtesy of BMW, which has lent us at Motoring a beautiful 730d for an extended test period. Its electronically-folding tow bar folds out from neatly underneath the back bumper and means that I’ve got the horse half and needed only the cart.
An A-frame was my only option. It’s a steel triangle-shaped tow hitch that bolts onto my racecar’s front bumper mounting brackets and means that I can pull the big Mercedes behind the Beemer on its own wheels.
An A-frame is a very cost effective option for a guy like me who can’t afford a proper trailer and doesn’t have the space to store one anyway. The only downsides are that the racing Merc’s suspension still has a lot of work to do over the long trip and the differential and propshaft continuously work even when the car’s being pulled along in neutral.
Also, if the car suffers any type of suspension damage over a day’s racing, the entire rig is crippled for the trip home. It was a risk I had to take.
And what an unusual tow vehicle. Especially when parked in the pits next to all those more conventional Sprinter vans, imposing SUVs and snarling diesel bakkies. The big, posh 7 Series limo certainly raised some eyebrows on raceday.
But from within the BMW’s larney cabin I was laughing, because I know of all the nifty little tricks the Seven has up its sleeve. Besides the electronically-folding towbar, there’s a neat little camera mounted in the boot lid that aims straight downward above the tow ball so that I can line it up to the A-frame hitch all by my lonesome without ever getting out to look.
It’s brilliant. From the massive 10.2-inch colour screen in the dash I can see the tow ball and an imaginary aiming line that works in conjunction with the steering so that I can inch backward with pinpoint accuracy. One small flaw, though, is that once you’re lined up and the car’s put into park, it rolls backward an inch or two (as all automatics do) and because of this I put a small dent in the Seven’s back bumper. Remember to engage the electronic handbrake if ever in this same situation. Sorry BMW...
And towing power is just not an issue here. With 540Nm of torque available the whole 3.5-ton caboodle chugged into the Free State without the slightest grumble from under the bonnet. You’ve probably heard towers say things like “I couldn’t even feel a trailer there”, but in this case it’s 100 percent accurate. Other than that creampuff-coloured racing Merc following freakishly close to my rear end, I hardly noticed the load.
And BMW’s awesome Active Cruise Control system didn’t mind the extra weight either. I pegged the needle at 130, maybe more at times, and despite the journey’s rather flat terrain the Seven’s tachometer hardly wavered between 2000 and 3000rpm.
I rested my feet, relaxed my position, and headed for the hills ... er, mine dumps. And upon encountering a slow-moving lorry or overloaded bakkie the Active Cruise’s radar would ease off the gas until I moved out and the 730d would overtake on its own. Effortless.
I suspect that if my regional racing competitors had an extra R970 959 (before options) lying around they’d use it to hop-up their racing machines and not their tow rigs.
But I do think that I’m now the envy of pit lane.