We Regularly Invite A Leading Figure In Our Industry To Give Their Views And Perspective. This Month We Hear From Randall Makee, Former Owner Of TJM Motorsport And Dahlback USA.
As I write this I'm on the phone listening to yet another internet hero drone on about what his buddies have done to their cars and how he's influential on the forums so should get a discount on the part he wants - one he'd like to pay for with mom's credit card.
Anyway, I guess I'm supposed to tell you why I became a part of this industry. Listening to this forum freak I'm wondering exactly that.
As he hangs up I say something like, "That rocks, dude - good luck! I'm sure the 2000hp monster your buddies are planning will run fine on stock internals. I wouldn't worry about a thing..."
Back to the writing... I thought of a thousand ways to impress you with tales of mechanical genius and proof there's 109 octane in my blood. I thought I might write about how I took apart my dad's lawnmower at four years old to see how it worked (but that never happened). Or the time my grandfather and I restored an old Porsche in the backyard (that never happened either).
I didn't invent the sports compact scene and don't claim to know more about European cars than the Europeans. I'm just your average Joe, and my inspiration came from the oldest pursuit known to man - the thing that made me join this industry is women and the most holy of holies they possess.
Her name was Laura Jackson. It was 1988 and she was one of those big-haired cheerleaders who wore leggings, neon-colored sweaters, vinyl belts and Caprezio shoes. I attempted to attract her with my own sweet style of dyed spiked hair, tight Polo shirts, pegged acid-wash jeans and velcro Reebok high tops. Yes, I was the All-American boy, but despite all I had "going for me", Laura decided to pass and dated a guy with a "bitchin' ride".
He was five years older than me, albeit only two years ahead of me in high school. He was 5' 2", 130 lb, and had a pencil-thin moustache he'd been growing since birth. He drove a '76 Camaro with mirrored glass and tail lights that read "kick" on the left and "ass" on the right. He hung laminated Whitesnake tickets on the rearview, had a chain steering wheel and sheepskin seat covers. The exhaust was a rumbling abortion he made in auto shop, and the rear tires were old racing slicks. To this day I've never seen an uglier car (although some guys at NOPI give it a run every year). He was able to do just one thing with that car, and it inspired me to join this industry. He could pull wool.
This cheese-dick half-wit failed 7th grade once and 8th grade twice but snagged chicks left and right. I couldn't believe a guy who put out cigarettes on the back of his hand could get the cheerleaders.
So when you can't beat 'em, join 'em. And I did, with a killer '84 Renault Alliance (Consumer Report's "car of the year"). Needless to say "Le Car" didn't help my cause, but started me on my tuning journey. Not because anything I did made it cool, but because I realized that if you throw money at a piece of crap you end up with a more expensive piece of crap.
When I finally made real money (fast forward to '02), I got my shit together and purchased an A4 1.8T Avant.
After about $5k in mods, I needed more. So in '03 I traded up to a 2.7T Allroad. I dropped about $10K into it but still needed more. So in '04 I bought into a tuning company. It was that fast - one day I was dreaming of New Hampshire's back roads, and the next I was doing it.
Irrational decisions have no financial limit. If you can figure out a way to spend money in the hope of increasing performance, you do so. If it works, you're a genius. If it fails, you blame the parts.
Highly-tuned Audis are a dream and a nightmare at the same time. And tuning is a passion I can only compare to how I chased women in my youth. With Audis, as with women, I learned that money and working knowledge are critical to success.