My actual first weekend was supposed to be last month, April -- I took the New Racer School and was all signed up for the Novice race, but it wasn't meant to be -- the GS500 I had bought didn’t have the correct headgasket installed, so it was leaking oil. Steve, David Dow and Peter Coronado all helped out when I was in New racer's School, torquing down the head and trying to make sure it wasn’t going to leak too badly. By the end of the second on-track session my boots were covered in oil. I walked into the classroom and found Danny Farnsworth, who teaches the School and is the Track Safety Officer, pointed to my boots and said, "I can't make the last on-track session. What do I need to do to re-take the school next month after I get my bike in order?" He told me to come back for the last class session and he'd let me know what I had to do. I go back and after the debrief he handed me my Novice License! He said, "You aren't fast, but you are consistent and the speed will come. Congratulations, and keep the rubber side down!"
I don't know if he realizes it, but his words really meant a lot, and I felt they began my racing career on a very good note. Being with people who've done this forever, or have always been 'GOOD' motorcycle riders makes a lot of this very difficult. My friends keep telling me that its OK, the speed will come, but I know in my heart that I'm not a good rider. I may never get further then merely adequate -- I think about it too much, and it slows me down. I have too much fear, and that slows me down. I'm really hoping that getting some time on an inexpensive yet OK-handling bike will allow me to get over some of those fears and let me be better on the street.
The one thing to note from the almost-first Novice weekend was that when I first left the classroom to go and put on my leathers for my first on-track session, I was struck by this utter and complete paralyzing terror. I couldn’t understand what I was doing! Why hadn't I taken CLASS or California Superbike School or something first, before taking the New Racers School! I don’t know anything about riding on a track… I was utterly and completely certain I would end up on my head within two laps, and almost gave up right there.
I'm glad I didn't. It was actually fun in a way. It’s the same nine turns, lap after lap, and I was still trying to figure out where I was going, so I wasn't noticing much yet. That would change in May.
Fastrack Friday, May 1999
Let's start this week off by saying I was sick. Wednesday I find out I have a sinus infection that is really pushing my reactive coughing to a new level and the asthma attacks were being triggered by the inhalants in the medicine that was supposed to make me feel better! Fortunately for me, Dr. Constantz, my physician, is great. She gave me meds that would deal with the sinus infection and the asthma, but wouldn’t leave me groggy. One of my coworkers with the same infection is still out sick; she cracked a rib coughing.
What else about Fastrack? It was packed. Lots of 'tip-overs' and lots of racers and street-riders getting in each others' way. I think the racers really need to understand that the sessions that are designed for street riders are JUST that, designed for street riders. If they don’t like the rules about passing, don’t go out in that session. I got very tired of hearing, "Well, I was going so fast, I had to pass them in that corner." My thought was, in intermediate sessions, Don’t Go that Fast.
What else? I was slow. But the bike was running great! No oil leaks, no weird unsteady power, except now it really only makes any power from 10k to 11k (which is redline!) I tried to remember Kit's message to tape to my tank, but didn’t remember it until afterwards: TT and B (Tits on Tank and Butt off seat). I'm still not limber enough and I was having a lot of trouble getting my feet and legs moving where I needed them to be. Sometimes my left leg would tire out before the end of five laps, feeling like I was overstressing the ligaments. I swore I would begin to stretch every morning…
Saturday Practice
Suddenly, the track began to change. Instead of spending time
trying to figure out where I had to point the bike, now I was seeing
things in the track. Turns 2 and 8 no longer seemed so LONG, and I
could actually see the entrance to Turn 9. Of course, coming out of
Turn 2 so much faster then before was really scaring me going into
Turn 3, a uphill left hander that was the scene of Miguel Duhamel's
crash during the last AMA weekend here at Willow that had his
motorcycle cartwheel across the infield. I could suddenly see just how
easy it would be do just that. (Remember I said I think too much?
Here's a prime example.) I managed to lock up my rear tire twice
coming into turn three by downshifting too early and not braking hard
enough.
Turn 3 would be my worst turn all weekend.
I decided to do the practice starts, and convinced Steve to join me -- I've never done practice starts, so it was going to be another exciting (right!) first for me. A lot of my friends back East have begun to go drag racing, and I've been saying that we ought to try that, to practice starting…
The practice starts were sort of a mess. I'd forgotten to take off my little blue sticker from last weekend, so half the starters thought I was in with the class from this month and the other half knew I wasn't. So I was getting pushed and pulled to where I was supposed to start. The only really scary thing to happen all weekend happened to me during the last practice start. The whole point is to practice getting into Turn 1, and then you were supposed to go at about 80% around the rest of the track. During my last start, I was going into T2 and a big bike decided he was shutting the door on me. I knew he was going to pass and there was plenty of room, but he pulled right in front and then seemed to slow down, pushing my tire closer to the edge of the track! I was terrified I'd end up in the dirt because of this idiot. I thought, "What a rotten way not to make my race tomorrow, I got pushed off the track during a practice start." Adding insult to injury, the initial adrenaline rush caused an asthma attack. I gave up on trying to get my flying lap in and just pulled in after slowing down for the rest of the way around the track.
That unfortunately set me off for the rest of the evening, coughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up L . I was worried that it wouldn’t calm itself down for the next day, or I'd still have trouble breathing.
Saturday night, after watching Steve come in 4th during his GT Lights endurance race, we were both so tired when we got back to the hotel room, we just ordered room service and fell asleep early. Unfortunately, we still had to get up at 5:30 am to get new tires and install them on the FZR before Steve's first race. I decided I was skipping the first practice to help him out, and therefore didn’t rush -- which works better for me. I hate that feeling of 'hurry up and wait,' so I tried to keep things very smooth both off and on the track.
Sunday, Race Day
I had been trying really hard all the past week not to think too much about this day and what it meant. I was going out to race. Really go out on a racetrack with a bunch of other people and really RACE! I reminded myself that I wasn’t racing anyone in particular, that it was me against the track. One thing that really helped was to listen to some music and then sit on the bike and really visualize what I was doing in each turn. (Thanks to Glenn Johnson for lending me his CD player for the weekend.)
I watched Steve leave for his last race, got into my leathers, and sat on the GS. I put myself into a slight trance to ward off the fear sitting in my stomach, and then quietly began to 'see' what the race was going to be like. I 'saw' myself going out into the pre-grid and heading out onto the track for my warmup lap, coming into the grid position and finding where I had to be. I really thought about what the starter was going to do and what I would be doing at that time. I figured if I pre-saw everything, it wouldn’t be so new and scary for me when it happened.
Unfortunately, the real thing is still so much different. The first thing that happened was that it was a lot more crowded out there then I thought. My race had 13 people, and the race ahead of us had about seven or eight (501-650). The starter makes you put your hands in the air if you're in a second wave, so I get my bike into neutral and put both of my hands up, and we watch the 501-650 race go into Turn 1. But I'm not watching them, I'm watching the starter. As soon as that '2' comes up, I want to get the bike in gear and get my feet in the right place. When the '1' shows, I start to rev the bike up to 10k, and let out the clutch just a little… except the green flag never comes out - the RED one does. DAMN! I see a cloud of dust in Turn 1. Some Novice on a 600 didn’t even make it through his first turn. The starter starts to wave us all away from the hot pit wall so the ambulance can come through. I'm trying very hard to remember to breathe. Thankfully, they send us back to our pits: "It's going to be about 10 minutes to clean up this tip-over." I ride back to the pit, my stomach roiling.
Steve and David were both there waiting for me. David kept reminding me to stay out of the sun, and Steve kept petting me like Ninja (his cat) because I think he's never been in this particular position of seeing someone else being nervous. I stopped being nervous and just wanted to get it over with. I was trying to stay contained in my helmet and leathers and just disappear until I had to be back… unfortunately my friends wouldn’t let meJ . I didn’t mind much -- it was really nice to have friends who were willing to stand with you in the hot sun and wait until you were called. Steve wouldn’t let me look at Turn 1, nor would they tell me what happened. "Someone went off in Turn 1. Don’t worry about it. Don’t look at it." They were worried I'd freak…
I couldn’t figure out a way to tell them it was OK, really. I just wanted it to be time to get back out and get this done. When they made first call, I got ready and headed out, but they did second call right away, and just as I entered the pit area near the front straight I hear all the bikes roaring out onto the track! Oh no! I'm LATE! I felt like the White Rabbit.
I see Danny Farnsworth, and he just waves at me to 'Get onto the track!' I get into the hot pit area and zoom onto the track. I'm passed by four other guys, so it's not just me.
This time, everything goes well.
The 501-650's start. I'm watching the starter. He comes over and shows us the # '2' card. I put the bike in gear. The '1' is shown, I'm at 10k RPM and when the green comes out, I just let out the clutch. I hadn't thought about where I was going to BE in Turn 1 coming out of the straight, so I end up letting everyone go by me as I'm shifting into third. SteveyRacer had told me, "Starting on the line, don’t brake or sit up for Turn 1. You aren't going fast enough to worry 'bout it. Stay tucked and GO FOR IT!"
I tried to listen to him. Stayed in a tuck and kept the throttle on into Turn 1. Wait. why am I so far up here on the track? I've never seen this part of the track before! It occurs to me (in a small part of my brain) that this is what happened in the first race: The 600 guy had never seen this part of the track before, panicked and hit his brakes. I wasn’t going to do that -- I wasn’t going that fast. I feel as if everyone had passed me by Turn 2, which is fine. I concentrate on me against the track. Turn 3 comes up, and still I brake way too early, but I power into T4 and 5. A lap later, I'm passed by a 125 into Turn 3 as well. Wow! I wasn’t last. (OK, I'm last now…) By lap 3, I'm being passed by 600's into Turn 9. One passes me cleanly and takes my line into T9 -- no problem, I'll follow him. Except just as he hits the bump in 9, tons of black smoke starts pouring out of his bike!
"OIL!" I scream in my head. I'm tucked into the bike, and in 5th gear. I don’t know how fast I'm going, but I'm gonna hit all that oil!!! I change my line to go across his line straight up and down, hoping that I don’t wipe out in the oil. Then I realize that the smoke is out of his exhaust, not his engine -- I may be OK. I dive towards the apex and see him throw his foot out and head for the pit. (wow, I hope someone doesn’t hit him coming out of 9 -- he cut straight across the track.) I see the checkered flag and realize my race is only three laps (the re-start made it a four-lap race, so at least I wouldn’t be lapped by the 125's and 250's. I'm in last place! Whoohoo! (Well, OK, not really, but my only goal was to finish the race upright.)
Getting My Novice License signed:
The funniest part of the weekend was when I went to go get my license signed. I forgot the first rule, which was to bring my own pen, and had to borrow one from someone else before going up to Danny Farnsworth and asking him to sign my license. He asked me how I did. I said, "DFL!" with a huge grin. He laughed and said, "Better then DNF or DNS!"
Steve looks at my results sheet. I wasn’t even going to bother, but he said, "No, you gotta look at this."
I look at my standing, figuring I'm in last place. But my name isn't in last place… I keep looking up the list more and more confused.
Wait … I'm listed as being FIRST?!?
But I was lapped!
But I was the first Novice in the 0-500 class to cross the finish line after the checkered flags were shown. Someone had made a mistake in the number of laps I had done.
One of the other guys said, "Don't say anything. If no one protests it within 30 minutes, you keep the score." I said, "That's not right!" and Danny agreed with me.
I stomped into the office, pretending to be all indignant. "I have to lodge a protest!" The nice ladies in the office looked concerned and said, "Who are you protesting?" I said, "Me! It says I came in first in the 0-500 Novice race, but I was lapped by nearly all the 501-650 guys and crossed the checkered flags a lap down…"
They apologized and gave me the printout to keep. I suspect it’s the only time I'll ever see my name in first place.
Thanks!
Big Thanks to my favorite Squidboy, who brought home two trophies himself and was completely supportive and sweet while I spent most of the weekend being sick and stressed out.
See you next month!
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