huevos
Sun 12/26/04, 6:58AM
So, after somewhat of a hiatus, I finally got back to the track for the last round of 2004. Hadn't ridden the SV on the big track since August. Took the SV to the Streets for the annual track day and rode the RC two or three times but that was about it.
Having a baby changes everything...just like the Johnson & Johnson commercial says. My son, Akira (accent on the first syllable), was born on Nov. 10th and nothing will ever be the same again. His name is Japanese (his mom is half Japanese, half Mexican) and in the particular Kanji script we used to spell his name it translates into "fine autumn".
The last few weeks of waiting were tortuous. Didn't race in Sept. because Aki's mom had a bit of preterm labor and we were sure he was gonna end up being a preemie. Didn't happen. Oct. came and went...and with his due date being the 28th, I wasn't gonna take the chance that I'd be out at the track and that he'd come strolling in. Nov. was outta the question...I had this new little guy that had just popped out and I needed to get to know him. Just as well... I heard Nov. was quite the quagmire out at WSIR.
Finally got out to the track for the annual SoCalSv shindig at SOW and was pumped afterwards, itching for Dec. 18th to roll up.
In the interim, I finally got the '04 GSXR 600 front end on the bike. Zoran supplied the bearings and they worked great. I had three people come over to help me set up the suspension and after about an hour of doing the whole get on, get off, compress & extend thing to get my front end sag set, we finally ran out of adjustment. We could have saved a lotta time and effort and ended up with the same result. In the end, we'd max'd out on the preload tension and the compression damping. After all those calculations...all we had to do was to have cranked the settings to the max. It would prove not to be enough.
I usually leave Friday and camp out at the track. Didn't do it this time...figured it was too damn cold to sleep in the back of my truck. I got all the gear packed up on Friday and set my alarm for 4:45AM.
Got up in the morning, took a shower, then went over to give Aki a kiss. I started walking out of the house and then stopped, went back and gave him another... then started toward the door again... then came back once more for another little nuzzle.
Now, I knew what I was doing... it didn't take a genius to figure it out. For a split second or two, the thought did cross my mind... I mean, it is totally within the realm of reality...given the nature of the sport....that should misfortune fall upon me in a big ass way, this could conceivably be the last time I lay eyes on him. I thought about it for a minute or two...even served my self a bowl of cereal while I did it, so as not rush the whole process.
While I was crunching away, I rationalized that I could forgo the risk, never set foot on a track again, and ensure that I would never be separated from him by my own hand. And then I looked out the window at the bike on the trailer, all ready to go, and also realized that it's all about balance. I get so much from being out there, it only adds new dimensions to who I am, and it's so much fun...so good for my mental health. I'm sure that I'll have a little something extra about life to teach him that I wouldn't otherwise have in the absence of what racing has given me. Yeah, I could lock myself up in the house and hope that nothing bad ever happens to me, but so much would be lost in the process. By the same token, I could go out to the Big Track and attack it with wild abandon, with a flippant attitude of "que sera...sera." The answer was to do neither.
The answer was to find my balance point, managing risk and reward, in such a way that the act of racing a motorcycle became neither a mindless monthly flirtation with disaster nor a fear ridden tiptoe through a minefield.
"Maintain a good sense of mortality and self preservation while you're out there", I thought, "and everything should be fine...you may not be the envelope pusher you sometimes secretly wish you still could be, but you'll continue to reap the rewards to be had just by being out there...indefinitely." I went on to conclude, "You're not eighteen anymore. You're thirty-five, you're a father, you're a professional, and yet you still get to do this once a month, who could ask for more? Just remember to treat the endeavor with an equal amount of respect as enthusiasm."
It wasn't a rationalization or a cop out so much as it was an affirmation...of the power of balance.
So off I go. Feeling good about the day ahead.
So...the little truck I use to haul the little trailer that I rent each month to carry the little SV up the big hill, to the big track is...well...how should I put this?...A PIECE O' SHIT!
The wind was really strong on the way up but it was still embarrassing. I mean, I'm towing a RACEbike. I'm supposed to look ultra cool on the way up there. People should be craning their neck to see who's driving...to see who's the macho motorcycle racer at the wheel as they try to keep up with me as I motor up the grade. Instead, I'm in third gear, just barely going 45 mph on the freeway, getting passed by fully loaded eighteen wheelers and, worse yet, a circa 1969 VW bus with a homemade wooden camper on the back, filled to the hilt with a bunch of hippies on some junket to the high desert for a weekend of "gettin' back to nature".
I could tell they were snickering as they passed me.
So I finally got to the track. It was great to be back. The whole feel of the place is quite distinct from everyday life. To paraphrase Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now and his famous, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning" line:
Ahhhh... I love the smell of VP in the morning. It smells like...victory.
I pitted next to Zoran, Kurt Spencer, Kurt & Shandra and Tom (ubermensch). Kurt was gonna change out his cams. He had bought them from Zoran and brought his bike to do it there. I remember him saying something like, “Yeah, I guess I’m just gonna watch Zoran while he works on the bike.” WRONG! Zoran made Kurt do it, and not just that, he sweated poor Kurt the whole time. Terms like “girly hands” and “poosey’” and “hey, you're still not done?” were flying left and right the whole time. It was hilarious.
Zoran is a pretty funny guy. More importantly though, he is a total guru when it comes to racing and racebike set-up. It was great to be able to pick this guy’s brain all weekend. Its amazing how much there is to learn about what I thought was a simple little “hobby”. He’s a genuinely nice guy who loves all things motorcycle racing and is more than happy and enthusiastic to share his wealth of knowledge. Kurt Spencer, the guy who races for Twin Works Factory is also a great guy, down to earth, and more than ready to help the SV’ers that were out there learning the craft. It was great hanging out with these guys over the weekend. Only problem is that I now have a laundry list of mods that need to be done to the bike because Zoran pointed them out all weekend...starting with the famous “such a piece of shit Ohlins” that Zoran seems to hate so much, passionately so. These two guys even convinced me that I needed bodywork for the bike. It has been purchased. It will be on the bike soon.
I’m looking forward to pitting with them again next time.
Practice went off without a hitch, except for the one session where I ran out of gas. I was leaned over in turn two, going at a pretty fast clip, then all of a sudden...”brrrruuuuuggghhhh!” The bike lurched towards the inside of the turn, I just about crapped my pants, then stood the bike up, lifted up my arm and rode it off the track and into the dirt off of turn three. I’ve lost all benefit of the idiot lights with the fork swap. No tach either.
I can’t say that I was in any type of groove this particular weekend. I was about a second off my pace from August. I was trying to get a feel for the new suspension and brakes. It wasn’t just that though. I felt rusty. Its amazing what missing a couple of months do to your comfort and confidence. It comes back quick though. One thing that started happening this weekend was that I started dragging my knee around in all sorts of places. All the way through turn two, at the apex of three, through four-B, and a couple of times into turn one. This was a little unnerving at first because I don’t drag knee, never had and never try to. I’m short to begin with and don’t hang off too much so touching the ground for me set off all sorts of alarms at first. I got comfortable with it through the weekend and it felt like a fairly natural progression after a while. I was tempted to lean over even more in two but then stopped testing and remembered my little conclusions about finding my balance point, I also reminded myself that I needed to show up for work on Monday.
On race day I was signed up for 550 superbike only, second to last race of the day. Practice was over, so was the rider’s meeting, and the racing had started. It was about the second race when I walked over to Zoran, Kurt, and Kurt and asked them if they wanted anything from the store because I was going into Rosamond. They asked me “Aren’t you gonna race BOTT middleweight?” I said, “No, wasn’t thinking about it.” Zoran fired off a,
“Oh my god, don’t be a poosey, get on it!”
I was a late entry and gridded last, which in BOTT middleweight was 11th. What a great feeling to be gridded in such a small field with experienced riders on similar bikes...so much less stressful than the goddamn stampede that was middleweight novice. I couldn’t see the starter from where I was at so i just watched the bikes in front of me and when they started, I started. Got a better start than usual, front came off the ground through first to second but it was pulling forward nicely. Started losing everyone after turn one though. “Nope,” I thought, “this definitely is not novice anymore.” Went around for about a lap or two and then got this Ducati 750 and TLR 1000 (don’t know what he was doing in middleweight) in my sights. Did my first pass on the TLR in turn eight on the outside at about a buck-twenty (or whatever my SV max’d out at), he got right past me again on the front straight but I out braked him by about a mile going into turn one. He passed me again going into two and again I took him on the outside and was ahead coming out of turn two and stayed ahead of him all the way through six. He passed me on the back straight and then I passed him again in turn eight on the inside and led away through nine. He got the message, he wasn’t gonna stay in front despite the bike. Didn’t see him again. Caught up with the ducati by the end of the front straight of probably the 3rd or 4th lap by braking deep into one, got passed him on the outside of two then got passed on the back straight, reeled him in on eight, got held up by him in nine and lost him on the front straight, caught up in turn one and repeated the same sequence all over again. After about two laps of this I could tell he was really trying to get away and was getting a huge drive outta six, so much so that he was able to distance himself so much that I wasn’t able to creep up on him in eight and he was already in turn one when I passed the start-finish with the white flag waving. I took turn one deep and fast. In turn two I could tell I was gaining. Came right up on his ass in turn three, and attached myself there all the way through six. Then he tore away, had about 8-10 lengths down the back straight but I knew I could catch up in eight which I did, slowly but surely. By the exit of eight I had about a 10 MPH advantage and passed him on the inside going into nine, held a tight line, and carried my cornerspeed and got a massive drive outta nine. I started hauling ass down the straight towards the checkered, he wasn’t passing, wasn’t passing, wasn’t passing...I thought I had him for sure...then he zoomed past me with about fifty yards to spare as if I was standing still. “Hmmm...that was very unsatisfying”, I thought, “...cheater...your bike is bigger than mine.” The guys back in the pit weren’t sympathetic, “next time don’t take so long to pass him and he won’t be able to catch you at the end of the race.” Hmmm. Anyway 8th place, second to last in my first BOTT middleweight race. Had a shitload of fun though.
550 superbike was pretty uneventful. Left one bike behind me by turn one and lost everyone else by turn two and never even got close to them. I came in 8th, one place behind Kenny Ritchie but I can’t say that I ever saw him again after turn six of the first lap. At least I didn’t get lapped. I was doing 137’s which I guess is awfully slow for 550 superbike. I started having flashbacks to my whole truck vs VW hippie-mobile experience. The only highlight was lapping one of the 600 singles that were part of the second wave, in turn eight on the last lap. Turn eight seems to be my best turn. I comfortable with the Sv going through there flat out, holding a line about 2 feet from the inside of the track. It bounces around pretty good but I’ve gotten used to it.
Anyway it was a great weekend. Don’t know If I’ll be out there in January for sure. I’m gonna get some track time in on the 7th with the trackdaz crew, but I think I want to get some skiing in rather than race next month. Who knows. Pretty sure I’ll be there in Feb.
‘till next time,
Stevan
Having a baby changes everything...just like the Johnson & Johnson commercial says. My son, Akira (accent on the first syllable), was born on Nov. 10th and nothing will ever be the same again. His name is Japanese (his mom is half Japanese, half Mexican) and in the particular Kanji script we used to spell his name it translates into "fine autumn".
The last few weeks of waiting were tortuous. Didn't race in Sept. because Aki's mom had a bit of preterm labor and we were sure he was gonna end up being a preemie. Didn't happen. Oct. came and went...and with his due date being the 28th, I wasn't gonna take the chance that I'd be out at the track and that he'd come strolling in. Nov. was outta the question...I had this new little guy that had just popped out and I needed to get to know him. Just as well... I heard Nov. was quite the quagmire out at WSIR.
Finally got out to the track for the annual SoCalSv shindig at SOW and was pumped afterwards, itching for Dec. 18th to roll up.
In the interim, I finally got the '04 GSXR 600 front end on the bike. Zoran supplied the bearings and they worked great. I had three people come over to help me set up the suspension and after about an hour of doing the whole get on, get off, compress & extend thing to get my front end sag set, we finally ran out of adjustment. We could have saved a lotta time and effort and ended up with the same result. In the end, we'd max'd out on the preload tension and the compression damping. After all those calculations...all we had to do was to have cranked the settings to the max. It would prove not to be enough.
I usually leave Friday and camp out at the track. Didn't do it this time...figured it was too damn cold to sleep in the back of my truck. I got all the gear packed up on Friday and set my alarm for 4:45AM.
Got up in the morning, took a shower, then went over to give Aki a kiss. I started walking out of the house and then stopped, went back and gave him another... then started toward the door again... then came back once more for another little nuzzle.
Now, I knew what I was doing... it didn't take a genius to figure it out. For a split second or two, the thought did cross my mind... I mean, it is totally within the realm of reality...given the nature of the sport....that should misfortune fall upon me in a big ass way, this could conceivably be the last time I lay eyes on him. I thought about it for a minute or two...even served my self a bowl of cereal while I did it, so as not rush the whole process.
While I was crunching away, I rationalized that I could forgo the risk, never set foot on a track again, and ensure that I would never be separated from him by my own hand. And then I looked out the window at the bike on the trailer, all ready to go, and also realized that it's all about balance. I get so much from being out there, it only adds new dimensions to who I am, and it's so much fun...so good for my mental health. I'm sure that I'll have a little something extra about life to teach him that I wouldn't otherwise have in the absence of what racing has given me. Yeah, I could lock myself up in the house and hope that nothing bad ever happens to me, but so much would be lost in the process. By the same token, I could go out to the Big Track and attack it with wild abandon, with a flippant attitude of "que sera...sera." The answer was to do neither.
The answer was to find my balance point, managing risk and reward, in such a way that the act of racing a motorcycle became neither a mindless monthly flirtation with disaster nor a fear ridden tiptoe through a minefield.
"Maintain a good sense of mortality and self preservation while you're out there", I thought, "and everything should be fine...you may not be the envelope pusher you sometimes secretly wish you still could be, but you'll continue to reap the rewards to be had just by being out there...indefinitely." I went on to conclude, "You're not eighteen anymore. You're thirty-five, you're a father, you're a professional, and yet you still get to do this once a month, who could ask for more? Just remember to treat the endeavor with an equal amount of respect as enthusiasm."
It wasn't a rationalization or a cop out so much as it was an affirmation...of the power of balance.
So off I go. Feeling good about the day ahead.
So...the little truck I use to haul the little trailer that I rent each month to carry the little SV up the big hill, to the big track is...well...how should I put this?...A PIECE O' SHIT!
The wind was really strong on the way up but it was still embarrassing. I mean, I'm towing a RACEbike. I'm supposed to look ultra cool on the way up there. People should be craning their neck to see who's driving...to see who's the macho motorcycle racer at the wheel as they try to keep up with me as I motor up the grade. Instead, I'm in third gear, just barely going 45 mph on the freeway, getting passed by fully loaded eighteen wheelers and, worse yet, a circa 1969 VW bus with a homemade wooden camper on the back, filled to the hilt with a bunch of hippies on some junket to the high desert for a weekend of "gettin' back to nature".
I could tell they were snickering as they passed me.
So I finally got to the track. It was great to be back. The whole feel of the place is quite distinct from everyday life. To paraphrase Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now and his famous, "I love the smell of napalm in the morning" line:
Ahhhh... I love the smell of VP in the morning. It smells like...victory.
I pitted next to Zoran, Kurt Spencer, Kurt & Shandra and Tom (ubermensch). Kurt was gonna change out his cams. He had bought them from Zoran and brought his bike to do it there. I remember him saying something like, “Yeah, I guess I’m just gonna watch Zoran while he works on the bike.” WRONG! Zoran made Kurt do it, and not just that, he sweated poor Kurt the whole time. Terms like “girly hands” and “poosey’” and “hey, you're still not done?” were flying left and right the whole time. It was hilarious.
Zoran is a pretty funny guy. More importantly though, he is a total guru when it comes to racing and racebike set-up. It was great to be able to pick this guy’s brain all weekend. Its amazing how much there is to learn about what I thought was a simple little “hobby”. He’s a genuinely nice guy who loves all things motorcycle racing and is more than happy and enthusiastic to share his wealth of knowledge. Kurt Spencer, the guy who races for Twin Works Factory is also a great guy, down to earth, and more than ready to help the SV’ers that were out there learning the craft. It was great hanging out with these guys over the weekend. Only problem is that I now have a laundry list of mods that need to be done to the bike because Zoran pointed them out all weekend...starting with the famous “such a piece of shit Ohlins” that Zoran seems to hate so much, passionately so. These two guys even convinced me that I needed bodywork for the bike. It has been purchased. It will be on the bike soon.
I’m looking forward to pitting with them again next time.
Practice went off without a hitch, except for the one session where I ran out of gas. I was leaned over in turn two, going at a pretty fast clip, then all of a sudden...”brrrruuuuuggghhhh!” The bike lurched towards the inside of the turn, I just about crapped my pants, then stood the bike up, lifted up my arm and rode it off the track and into the dirt off of turn three. I’ve lost all benefit of the idiot lights with the fork swap. No tach either.
I can’t say that I was in any type of groove this particular weekend. I was about a second off my pace from August. I was trying to get a feel for the new suspension and brakes. It wasn’t just that though. I felt rusty. Its amazing what missing a couple of months do to your comfort and confidence. It comes back quick though. One thing that started happening this weekend was that I started dragging my knee around in all sorts of places. All the way through turn two, at the apex of three, through four-B, and a couple of times into turn one. This was a little unnerving at first because I don’t drag knee, never had and never try to. I’m short to begin with and don’t hang off too much so touching the ground for me set off all sorts of alarms at first. I got comfortable with it through the weekend and it felt like a fairly natural progression after a while. I was tempted to lean over even more in two but then stopped testing and remembered my little conclusions about finding my balance point, I also reminded myself that I needed to show up for work on Monday.
On race day I was signed up for 550 superbike only, second to last race of the day. Practice was over, so was the rider’s meeting, and the racing had started. It was about the second race when I walked over to Zoran, Kurt, and Kurt and asked them if they wanted anything from the store because I was going into Rosamond. They asked me “Aren’t you gonna race BOTT middleweight?” I said, “No, wasn’t thinking about it.” Zoran fired off a,
“Oh my god, don’t be a poosey, get on it!”
I was a late entry and gridded last, which in BOTT middleweight was 11th. What a great feeling to be gridded in such a small field with experienced riders on similar bikes...so much less stressful than the goddamn stampede that was middleweight novice. I couldn’t see the starter from where I was at so i just watched the bikes in front of me and when they started, I started. Got a better start than usual, front came off the ground through first to second but it was pulling forward nicely. Started losing everyone after turn one though. “Nope,” I thought, “this definitely is not novice anymore.” Went around for about a lap or two and then got this Ducati 750 and TLR 1000 (don’t know what he was doing in middleweight) in my sights. Did my first pass on the TLR in turn eight on the outside at about a buck-twenty (or whatever my SV max’d out at), he got right past me again on the front straight but I out braked him by about a mile going into turn one. He passed me again going into two and again I took him on the outside and was ahead coming out of turn two and stayed ahead of him all the way through six. He passed me on the back straight and then I passed him again in turn eight on the inside and led away through nine. He got the message, he wasn’t gonna stay in front despite the bike. Didn’t see him again. Caught up with the ducati by the end of the front straight of probably the 3rd or 4th lap by braking deep into one, got passed him on the outside of two then got passed on the back straight, reeled him in on eight, got held up by him in nine and lost him on the front straight, caught up in turn one and repeated the same sequence all over again. After about two laps of this I could tell he was really trying to get away and was getting a huge drive outta six, so much so that he was able to distance himself so much that I wasn’t able to creep up on him in eight and he was already in turn one when I passed the start-finish with the white flag waving. I took turn one deep and fast. In turn two I could tell I was gaining. Came right up on his ass in turn three, and attached myself there all the way through six. Then he tore away, had about 8-10 lengths down the back straight but I knew I could catch up in eight which I did, slowly but surely. By the exit of eight I had about a 10 MPH advantage and passed him on the inside going into nine, held a tight line, and carried my cornerspeed and got a massive drive outta nine. I started hauling ass down the straight towards the checkered, he wasn’t passing, wasn’t passing, wasn’t passing...I thought I had him for sure...then he zoomed past me with about fifty yards to spare as if I was standing still. “Hmmm...that was very unsatisfying”, I thought, “...cheater...your bike is bigger than mine.” The guys back in the pit weren’t sympathetic, “next time don’t take so long to pass him and he won’t be able to catch you at the end of the race.” Hmmm. Anyway 8th place, second to last in my first BOTT middleweight race. Had a shitload of fun though.
550 superbike was pretty uneventful. Left one bike behind me by turn one and lost everyone else by turn two and never even got close to them. I came in 8th, one place behind Kenny Ritchie but I can’t say that I ever saw him again after turn six of the first lap. At least I didn’t get lapped. I was doing 137’s which I guess is awfully slow for 550 superbike. I started having flashbacks to my whole truck vs VW hippie-mobile experience. The only highlight was lapping one of the 600 singles that were part of the second wave, in turn eight on the last lap. Turn eight seems to be my best turn. I comfortable with the Sv going through there flat out, holding a line about 2 feet from the inside of the track. It bounces around pretty good but I’ve gotten used to it.
Anyway it was a great weekend. Don’t know If I’ll be out there in January for sure. I’m gonna get some track time in on the 7th with the trackdaz crew, but I think I want to get some skiing in rather than race next month. Who knows. Pretty sure I’ll be there in Feb.
‘till next time,
Stevan