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Steamboat Living: A look inside Bridgestone Winter Driving School

A tire education via celebs and snow laps

Eugene Buchanan
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Bridgestone flew in media wonks from across the country — including writers from Road & Track, Car & Driver and more — to the home of its heralded Bridgestone Winter Driving School, to let them test firsthand the grippiness of the company’s new tire technology.
Courtesy Photo





Bridgestone flew in media wonks from across the country — including writers from Road & Track, Car & Driver and more — to the home of its heralded Bridgestone Winter Driving School, to let them test firsthand the grippiness of the company’s new tire technology.

I’m out of my comfort zone. Not surprising, as I’m about to put the pedal to the metal in a brand-new 2014 Lexus ES 350 sedan inside, of all places, the Howelsen Ice Arena.

Starting at one blue line, we’re supposed to slam on the brakes once we reach the other line, a distance of 57 feet, hopefully stopping before we careen into the boards another 60 feet later. Rink manager Mike Albrecht stands outside the glass, cringing.

“Make sure you floor it,” says my instructor, Robert Ames, as if I were planning on weenie’ing out.



When the flagman waves, against my better judgment, that’s what I do, stomping on the gas. The engine roars, tires spin, and we start moving. Well, actually, more like inching. It’s not the breakneck speed I was expecting, but the boards take up more windshield quickly.

We’re here burning rink rubber to test Bridgestone’s new WS80 Blizzak snow tires. The company has flown in media wonks from across the country — including writers from Road & Track, Car & Driver and more — to the home of its heralded Bridgestone Winter Driving School, to let them test firsthand the grippiness of the company’s new tire technology.



We get to drive two cars, one with WS80s and the other with competitor Michelin’s new X-Ice Xi3s. A third car has WS80s on one side and the Michelins on the other. Step on its brakes, and the car turns toward the grippier side.

They already had nudged one car up against the boards. I don’t want to be victim No. 2.

I cross the red center ice line where face-offs occur and gain momentum toward the far blue line. “Now!” Ames suggests, imploring me to stomp on the brakes, not a pump, to use the ES 350’s antilock system.

We glide to a stop, about 10 feet from the far boards. I’m in a rig a few thousand pounds heavier than a typical Sailor defenseman, but the boards are safe from splintering.

The event was put on to herald Bridgestone’s new snow tire, and they’d brought in a veritable who’s who to pimp them. At the 8 a.m. product presentation at the Sheraton Steamboat Resort, I stood in the breakfast buffet line next to three-time Indianapolis 500 racecar driver Simon Pagenaud.

Picking at the food lineup, he compared the Sheraton’s croissants to those from his native France. A sniff, a scowl and, finally, a tentative nibble.

Sitting down at a nearby table, he espoused upon skiing instead of driving.

“I love skiing,” he said, evoking the impression that he likes it fast. “I wish I could stay here longer to ski Steamboat, but I have another test drive in California. I ski a lot at St. Sorlin d’Arves in the French Alps.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t get the chance to drive on snow much.

“Just for fun sometimes, like here,” he said. “It’s great that anyone can access the driving school here and understand what snow driving is all about. It’s very different from pavement. It makes you more aware of your environment, grip level and weight transfer. It applies to me racing in the Indy and the average person on the road.”

That’d be me. I’m comfortable pulling donuts in a parking lot, but beyond that I’m Sheraton croissants to French eclairs.

Bridgestone marketing executive Phil Pacsi broke the ice to get the presentation underway.

There are three types of tires, he said: summer, all-season and winter. There are also three types of consumers: those with zero idea about what to buy; those in the market; and those who actually want to drive on them. At any given time, he continued, only an 8.5-by11-inch surface area of a tire touches the ground. That part, then, better stick like Honey Stinger.

In the 1980s, Pacsi added, studded snow tires were outlawed in Japan, fueling the Japanese company’s development of the first studless Blizzak snow tire, which hit the U.S. market in 1993. In 2008, Quebec mandated winter tire use between December and March, further increasing demand.

Lately, that demand has been fueled by a marketing campaign drawing in professional athletes to help the cause. Stars like Troy Aikman, Deion Sanders and Tim Duncan all have been tapped to tout the tires. “The demographics are very close to ours,” he continued. “The typical sports fan is our customer.”

My eyes light upon what looks to be another star spokesman sitting just two seats away. He looks different than the typical tire writer — beefier, tougher, more athletic.

This year’s Conquer the Cold campaign, it turns out, is being run in partnership with the NHL. The new Blizzaks, Pacsi said, are designed to perform during hockey weather. Last winter, Bridgestone hosted the NHL Winter Classic in front of 105,000 fans at the University of Michigan when temperatures were just 17 degrees.

Former Colorado Avalanche standout Milan Hejduk, who’s won the Stanley Cup and two Olympic medals, then stood up and took the stage. He spoke about his career, Steamboat (“It takes a lot of courage to go off those ski jumps”) and tires (“Like hockey skates, you need good traction”).

The key to the WS80, continued Bridgestone product manager Anant Gandhi, is its three-dimensional zigzag siping, creating more surface area, and a unique, hydrophilic Multicell Compount that actually attracts water. It sucks up water and channels it away so more rubber remains in contact with the snow or ice. With that, we headed to Howelsen’s ice to put it to the test.

Ice driving accomplished and boards spared, we pile into a bus and head up to the Bridgestone Winter Driving School off Twentymile Road. We couldn’t have asked for better, or worse, winter driving conditions. Thick fog blanketed everything in sight, from the staging yurt to the tracks. The lighting was as flat as the rink we were just on.

Located on land leased from Jim Stanko, with three separate 2-mile-long tracks on 77 acres, the school is the largest purpose-built facility of its kind in North America.

Directed by local Mark Cox, who runs auto event company Premier Event Services in the offseason, the school uses a quarter-million gallons of water pumped from a nearby pond just to make one of its fish-tailing loops. Now entering its 32nd year, it employs 10 full-time instructors, from longtime locals like Morgan Kavanaugh and Gary Osteen to 31-year instructor and former racecar driver Robert Ames.

Clients range from regular Joes to military, law enforcement, medical personnel and more — anyone looking to gain an edge driving on snow.

“Two weeks ago, we had an ambulance from Grand County that actually had four different tires on it,” an incredulous Ames says. “They didn’t know any better.”

During a 95-day season, the school will train as many as 2,500 people, with this year one of the best in its history.

“Our goal,” Ames says, “is to help people leave as better drivers and never have to use their deductible.”

Ames adds that there are three primary facets of the Grip Rule: 1) Your vision — see an opening and have an out; 2) Adjust your speed for the conditions; and 3) The separation of controls, including steering, brake and throttle — brake in a straight line, then release it, coast and steer. Other pointers include keeping your hands at 9 and 3 o’clock on the wheel and being cognizant of weight transfer (weight shifts to the rear tires as you accelerate, lessening grip for steering, and moves forward as you slow down, offering better steering).

After the whirlwind “Get it? Got it? Good,” two other drivers and I climb inside a 2014 Lexus AWD RX 350 SUV, with Ames riding shotgun. We’ll rotate from back to front when it’s our turn to drive. I get first dibs. When I hear “All clear!” cackle over the radio from instructor TJ Fry ahead in the lead car, I’m set to go.

To me, it should be called the How to Avoid Understeering School. That’s what I do at each turn, as Ames offers pointers. Soon, I get the hang of it, the tires biting like Hejduk’s blades at the Pepsi Center. It’s a far cry from my beater 2001 Explorer.

We take laps in one Lexus with the Blizzaks, another with the Michelins and another outfitted with Goodyear UltraGrip Ice WRTs. They’re all way better than anything I’ve ever driven.

During one of my laps, Pagenaud blasts by and takes out a cone. I slow down to give him some room.

“You can go now,” Ames says. “I don’t think you’ll catch him.”

Later, we hear an inevitable reprimand over the radio. “We got an extraction,” says TJ Fry, pinpointing it on a straight-away between turns six and seven. It’s not Pagenaud, but one of us.

“Over-corrected,” Ames says. “That’s never a good feeling … it means more paperwork.”

Instead of being soft snow, the banks are ice hard, easily capable of dinging a Lexus. That’s why they don’t having us goosing it on each turn. Instead, they teach us to take it just until the tire’s breaking point, where they start to slide.

But the instructors don’t always practice what they preach. At the end of the day, they disable the cars’ traction and stability controls (“fun switches”) and take us around on “hot laps.” We 180 into turns, then spiral the other way for the next. One instructor does a 270 before correcting into a turn. I feel like I’m starring in “Starsky & Hutch.”

“These guys make it look like Simon was taking it easy,” Ames says. “It shows what these cars and tires are capable of.”

At the bar afterward, I clink beers with Pagenaud, who says he could feel a “massive difference” between all three tires. I couldn’t really tell; they all seemed sweet.

Later, at dinner, I find out that it was Ghandi, the Bridgestone marketer who gave one of the morning presentations, who had to get “extracted.” I also learned that our fabled IndyCar driver accidentally “brushed” a bank. “Just a little,” he admits.

Soon, Pacsi arrives with the scores from our rink test. My top speed with the WS80s registered 10.3 mph, with a stopping distance of 36 feet. On the Michelins, my high was 9.4 mph with a stopping distance of 45 feet. The Blizzaks clocked in 18.5 percent better — that much less chance of adding a line item to the rink’s maintenance budget.

Then my eyes settled on Pagenaud’s score. On my best run, I reached a faster speed than his 10.2 mph. Someone wave the checkered flag.

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