morbidelli17
Sun 5/6/07, 7:52PM
ZenSandy was at a conference, so I needed something to do to stay out of trouble. Fortunately, WSMC had scheduled a race that weekend, so I packed the bike, Little Man and Sparky into the truck and headed for the Streets of Willow.
We got there early Saturday morning, missed the first session, then missed the second session because there were so few people that they cut sessions short. That was because the weather was crappy; Andy and Dustin from TrackDaz skipped out and headed for breakfast as I unloaded. Then a new guy managed to oil down the majority of the track, leading to a three-hour red flag. Just about the time I was starting to lose my mind, I remembered the old saying, "Better to light a single candle than to strangle the motherfucker." I think that's how the saying goes. Anyway, Speights, Moniz, and I grabbed brooms and walked out to the track and started scrubbing.
It was kind of typical of the way the Streets series felt; like a club, rather than an organization.
Part of that comes from the feel of the Streets track itself. The pavement is rough, with lots of transitions and seams. It's tight, twisty and physical to ride. It is completely unlike Big Willow. As I joked with my friends there, "SOB! This lever on the right handlebar is useful for something!"
Andy (West Coast GP Cycles) has done a remarkable job of smoothing out Silver's throttle response. I made it a point to not mess with the bike at all. Andy made a couple changes, but I went out there to ride and improve my skills, not the bike. Andy's input - and that of some others, like Shandra - helped a great deal. And I tried to remember the stuff that Keith Code taught me when I was last at the track two years ago. Thankfully, the little reference points from his classes were still visible. That helped a great deal.
Actually, it was a reminder of the strides I've made as a rider. Last time I was there in 2005, I could barely touch a knee down anywhere except the big, banked bowl. This time, I dragged knee in almost every corner. Last time, Turn One was fourth gear; this time, fifth gear, pinned, and coming up on the rev limiter.
Dinner with Andy, Dustin, Chris Speights and another new gentleman at Ramon's mexican restaurant. Then Chris, I, Stefan and family, and the dogs walked the track. Chris seemed to really enjoy playing with Little Man. It was a very cool way to spend the evening.
The race itself was pretty dull. My lap times were nowhere near what former WSMC overall champ Kenny Kopecky was running, and he, I and my friend James on a Buell Blast were the only ones who took the green flag. I stayed close for a lap. Then Kenny woke up. I watched him play with someone in a later race, just jacking around, and it was a bit humbling to realize that he'd done the same with me earlier. I took second, and was so far back from first and so far ahead of second that I actually got all stylish for the photog on the last lap.
Still, I put down my fastest lap and enjoyed the riding. Turn One - right, knee on the ground, fifth-gear, through a part of the track that's rather unsettlingly dirty-looking - and Turn Seven - an off-camber left that's flat-out in fourth - are my favorites. Turn Seven follows a bump that kicks the front end light, and I'm leaned over so far that it feels like my knee is going to be pinned between the ground and fairing, then the front pushes wide as the track falls away. Sweet. I said to Andy, "I'm pushing the front," and he said, "Perfect! You're supposed to." Yipes!
I was out of there by noon. I was exhausted. But the bike ran well, I learned something about tires, and I'm looking forward to Big Willow in a couple weeks.
I was exhausted, btw, because of the dogs.
Since I was all macho-bachelor man this weekend, we camped. I blew up the air mattress and leashed the dogs to my belt loop, and all three of us dove into the tent. Sparky went straight to sleep. Little Man kept dive-bombing my face all night long. I kept waking up to see him charging up my chest, mouth open, ready to chew my nose off.
I hate the young and energetic.
We got there early Saturday morning, missed the first session, then missed the second session because there were so few people that they cut sessions short. That was because the weather was crappy; Andy and Dustin from TrackDaz skipped out and headed for breakfast as I unloaded. Then a new guy managed to oil down the majority of the track, leading to a three-hour red flag. Just about the time I was starting to lose my mind, I remembered the old saying, "Better to light a single candle than to strangle the motherfucker." I think that's how the saying goes. Anyway, Speights, Moniz, and I grabbed brooms and walked out to the track and started scrubbing.
It was kind of typical of the way the Streets series felt; like a club, rather than an organization.
Part of that comes from the feel of the Streets track itself. The pavement is rough, with lots of transitions and seams. It's tight, twisty and physical to ride. It is completely unlike Big Willow. As I joked with my friends there, "SOB! This lever on the right handlebar is useful for something!"
Andy (West Coast GP Cycles) has done a remarkable job of smoothing out Silver's throttle response. I made it a point to not mess with the bike at all. Andy made a couple changes, but I went out there to ride and improve my skills, not the bike. Andy's input - and that of some others, like Shandra - helped a great deal. And I tried to remember the stuff that Keith Code taught me when I was last at the track two years ago. Thankfully, the little reference points from his classes were still visible. That helped a great deal.
Actually, it was a reminder of the strides I've made as a rider. Last time I was there in 2005, I could barely touch a knee down anywhere except the big, banked bowl. This time, I dragged knee in almost every corner. Last time, Turn One was fourth gear; this time, fifth gear, pinned, and coming up on the rev limiter.
Dinner with Andy, Dustin, Chris Speights and another new gentleman at Ramon's mexican restaurant. Then Chris, I, Stefan and family, and the dogs walked the track. Chris seemed to really enjoy playing with Little Man. It was a very cool way to spend the evening.
The race itself was pretty dull. My lap times were nowhere near what former WSMC overall champ Kenny Kopecky was running, and he, I and my friend James on a Buell Blast were the only ones who took the green flag. I stayed close for a lap. Then Kenny woke up. I watched him play with someone in a later race, just jacking around, and it was a bit humbling to realize that he'd done the same with me earlier. I took second, and was so far back from first and so far ahead of second that I actually got all stylish for the photog on the last lap.
Still, I put down my fastest lap and enjoyed the riding. Turn One - right, knee on the ground, fifth-gear, through a part of the track that's rather unsettlingly dirty-looking - and Turn Seven - an off-camber left that's flat-out in fourth - are my favorites. Turn Seven follows a bump that kicks the front end light, and I'm leaned over so far that it feels like my knee is going to be pinned between the ground and fairing, then the front pushes wide as the track falls away. Sweet. I said to Andy, "I'm pushing the front," and he said, "Perfect! You're supposed to." Yipes!
I was out of there by noon. I was exhausted. But the bike ran well, I learned something about tires, and I'm looking forward to Big Willow in a couple weeks.
I was exhausted, btw, because of the dogs.
Since I was all macho-bachelor man this weekend, we camped. I blew up the air mattress and leashed the dogs to my belt loop, and all three of us dove into the tent. Sparky went straight to sleep. Little Man kept dive-bombing my face all night long. I kept waking up to see him charging up my chest, mouth open, ready to chew my nose off.
I hate the young and energetic.