Racecar Driver Tim Rosengrant: a New Porsche 997 Could Be His Ticket to Victory

Tim Rosengrant's a guy who struggles. There's no struggle like IMSA racing and no challenge more intense for a guy who doesn't have large corporate backing. Nonetheless, Rosengrant's carved out a niche for himself on the IMSA-GT-3 cup circuit, competing against racing superstars like internationally known German drivers like Wolf Henzler, Dirk Werner, and Christian Menzel. He's thrilled to be part of an elite fraternity of top American drivers like Patrick Long, a top competitor whom he admires greatly.

In a sport dominated by German drivers, it is a Pyrrhic victory for Average-Joe Americans like Tim Rosengrant to even finish a race. This year, Rosengrant finished nine races in the series, most often finishing in the middle of the pack. In such heady company as you find in the GT-3 cup races, finishing 12th or 16th may not have Porsche banging on your door to supply you with a free Porsche 997 but it's a serious accomplishment to anyone who knows anything about the sport. Rosengrant competes with a single car, unlike much of the corporate sponsored competition which shows up at the posh racing venues like Laguna Seca, California with a second car in tow.

"They crash and just pop into the backup car. I damage the car and it's time to go home for me," says the self-deprecating Rosengrant.

If you've somehow got the idea that racing is an expensive obsession, you're right. But let me point out that Rosengrant is a poor cousin to the sports car racing elite who can afford to drive their cars flat out, pedal to the medal, come hell, high-water, or racing mayhem. The 2006 version of Porsche's famous racing sports car, the 996, sells in the $100,000 dollar range. There were about 300 made for the U.S. market, just as there will be about 300 made of the 2007 version, the Porsche 997 which has a sticker price of $106,000. Repairing and maintaining thoroughbred racing cars is an expensive and, for most people, a prohibitive proposition.

" I've got to make (driving) choices on the conservative side…. I've DNF (did not finish) twice this year and tore my car up pretty good in one event."

Rosengrant knows something about the auto body crash business. I looked up his company http://www.timsautobody.net/ ) on the internet and discovered that Rosengrant's high-tech auto body shops have been in existence since 1987. It's worth hitting up the website just to listen to the sound effects. Otherwise, how are most of us expected to know what a real engine sounds like? (My pickup truck sounds like a garbage disposal unit.)

Rosengrant has a work ethic that comes from doing things on his own initiative. The tough family background is more common to county fair stock car racing in the South than to the international racing elite of IMSA driving. The quiet tone of voice comes from internalizing years of struggle and hard work. Yet, Rosengrant is not content with the modicum of financial success he has attained. He's like a kid whose body has not yet grown into the comforts of financial success and approaching middle age. He wants something more: he wants to go faster in a sport where the difference between winner and loser is measured in the space between fractions of a second.

"I remember when I was a kid the only way I had of judging anything was if it had wheels. If it rolled and had wheels, I liked it. I guess I haven't changed much," says the driver wryly.

Ironically, I first met Rosengrant in a boxing gym. It was easy to see Rosengrant as a boxer; his compact, solid frame and intent gaze fit in with the intense environment. Months later, when I learned he was a race car driver, I was naturally surprised. Boxing didn't have wheels and it doesn't roll, so naturally I was curious. Why would a guy like Tim Rosengrant spend his spare time punishing his body in a boxing gym?

"Think of having your body hammered every which way and for a long time. A little road ripple in the corner of a racetrack at 180 mph in a long race is like getting pounded for 12 rounds by a heavyweight," says the muscular driver.

Staying in shape is only one of the anxieties of the professional race car driver. Rosengrant has another concern: waiting for the Lufthansa jet which will deliver the rare Porsche 997 he has ordered a year in advance. Certainly, there will not be a long line of American car buyers awaiting delivery at the airport. The average person could not tell the difference in looks or style between the Porsche 996 and Porsche 997 series, but that's not the point.

"An altogether different car than the Porsche 996," says the smiling race care driver.

"Faster?" I venture a guess.

Rosengrant smiles, eyes a-twinkle.

"Everything….everything' s better!", he exclaims.

That's the short answer for a guy like me who's clueless about auto racing. The modern technological mechanics of today's racing cars are as esoteric as those of a Mars lander.

Tim Rosengrant's looking a little edgy in the week before his new car arrives as he works the heavy bag in the Jesse Harris Boxing Gym in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. He's confident, looking for that extra something, that extra push of horsepower and handling that swells the volume of time between one tenth of a second and another.

"I finished seventh at Laguna Seca this year. My last race in the IMSA series. That's pretty good but I know I can do better."

Tim Rosengrant turns back to thumping on the heavy bag with the kind of intensity that defines the sport of auto racing. He can't wait to get the new car. Jab, left-hook, right-hand, double-jab, fade a shoulder, step-forward, uppercut, left-hook, right hand. Look out, IMSA 2007. There's something driven about this driver.