It occurred to me on the drive to Thunderhill that riding at a trackday is like owning a dog whereas racing is akin to having a kid. There’s a lot to be said for trackdays and dogs. They’re fun, relatively low maintenance, there when you want them, enjoyable, and provide a good amount of entertainment without undue stress. To say that racing and kids ‘take it to another level’ is an understatement of epic proportions. You have so much more invested: blood, sweat, tears, higher risk… not to mention cashola. A significant part of the time they can be incredibly frustrating, a colossal pain in the ass, and drive you to the brink of insanity. But when they’re good, there is nothing else like them.
Last round I had a fun battle with my buddy Brian in Open Twins, which I eventually lost. I had high hopes for Super Dino since I felt so good, but unfortunately my tires started sliding a Lot after a couple laps. So, I limped home rather than risk crashing while fighting for a mid-pack finish. The only highlight of the round was breaking into the 2:02’s, besting last year’s mark of 2:05.
Going into this round I was highly optimistic. I knew I had more pace to come, so my goals were to drop my times and finish respectably. Ducatis are traditionally geared very tall, but I’d been putting off re-gearing my bike out of sheer laziness. I justified it by reasoning the software needed far more improvement than the hardware. My chain had developed more kinks than a Roman orgy, and Charles Roosevelt (Super Dino fast guy and quickly becoming my favorite guru) strongly advised me to re-gear my bike. So, I rolled into the weekend feeling confident and planned on using Saturday practice to figure out my new shift points. Simplicity itself - what could possibly go wrong? “The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.”
I’ve worked hard on improving my fitness and losing weight in the last couple months. In the year leading up to starting racing I lost 20 pounds. I noticed that my lap times roughly correlated to my weight. I’ve been hovering between 205-210, and last year my best time was a 2:05. Before last round I cracked down and got my weight down to 202, and ‘lo and behold’ I turned a 2:02. So, logically I figured I should drop to 200 for this round if I wanted to get close to 2:00. 1:59’s might take a bit more effort…
First practice Saturday morning and the gearing completely transformed the bike. Instead of the steady, somewhat lethargic tractor pull I was accustomed to, the engine revved like a banshee and forced me to shift all over the place. Well honestly, it just forced me to shift. I was committed to experimenting before dismissing it out of hand, but the law of unintended consequences reared its ugly head. Last round my bike had inexplicably begun to exhibit instability – headshaking at the end of the front straight and an alarming amount of bucking entering fast turns (e.g. 1 and 8). On the second lap I tipped into turn 1 and scared the sweet, merciful crap out of myself when my formerly unflappable steed did a convincing imitation of a cat unexpectedly mounted by a rabid monkey. Playing the role of the aforementioned monkey, I was nonplussed with the situation. The next few laps only confirmed my handling woes, and I immediately went to see the good Dr. Moss for some emergency treatment. He dropped the ride height progressively, and the handling gradually improved. With the ride height in the lowest position the bike was only marginally unstable, but felt like a chopper, and I wasn’t sure how it would do at race pace.
The next step was to drop the forks one line in the triples. Easier said than done since Ducati has deemed it far too expensive to manufacture a lower triple clamp with a hole intended for a stand. We ended up building a makeshift over-bike stand out of our Super Canopy parts. We rushed around like madmen between sessions, and time constraints combined with minimum tie-down length dictated we use the stand as more of a lifting harness. So my teammate Robin simultaneously loosened the final triple clamp bolt, pounded on top of the fork with a rubber mallet like a crazed toddler high on Pixie Stix, while I essentially did calf raises under the ‘stand’ to elevate the front off the ground. Ahhhh racing, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways... Miraculously we managed to get both legs ‘adjusted’ between sessions. ‘Adjusted’ is such a sanitary term for the mechanical equivalent of battlefield surgery, as I felt little better than a Civil War doctor with a rusty bone saw and a piece of leather. “Bite down on this Son. Don’t worry none ‘bout the whiskey, he’ll pass out from the pain di-rectly.”
Even though it turned into one of the twelve labors of Hercules, dropping the forks resulted in a massive improvement. The rear was slammed, the front was raked, and I was combing the paddock for ape hangers and a fringed leather seat. As I cruised the track in blissful stability, I had an insidious hankering for some George Thorogood and a denim AFM vest. I convinced the good Dr. Moss to add some ride height with unassailable logic. “Dave, isn’t it just… well… Wrong to have the ride height all the way down?” Actually, I posited the theory that we had been alleviating a front end problem by adjusting the rear. We incrementally raised the ride height on the warm up laps of the afternoon races, but the obvious limitations of this methodology prevented any definitive conclusions. After the track went cold, I changed the rear sprocket to maximize wheelbase. Leave no stone unturned. I would have one session on Sunday morning to test the revised setup’s handling and gearing.
After the flurry of activity had died down, I realized that I had severely neglected my hydration and nutrition that afternoon. I knew I was falling behind, but I had a mini brain trust (thanks Bill and Andy!) in my pits helping to solve my handling woes. I thought, “You have to strike while the iron is hot.” Even after slamming copious fluids, I experienced cramping all over my body as I performed menial tasks. For example, my forearms and fingers seized while mightily attempting to fold a sun visor. Bad times. I continued to force rehydration throughout the evening, as my wife complimented me on my sunken, corpse-like appearance. Knowing that I was certainly below my goal weight of 200 at that moment was scant consolation. Feeling like sh*t would have been a nice step up. Roll on Sunday!
Sunday morning came way too soon (after countless nocturnal pilgrimages), and although I felt leagues better than the previous night I still had a few residual cramps. I figured I would be fine for one practice session plus six laps of Super Dino. The bike wasn’t perfect in practice, but it was one step better than last round. Definitely rideable and the small gearing change meant almost all my shift points remained intact. As the race approached I happened to run into Charles again. I asked him for some pre-race advice and his words proved to be eerily prescient. It’s one thing to know something, but it’s another to hear it from someone whom you respect and have it sink into a deeper level of consciousness. In addition, my friend Mike told me that he would be giving signals to Eric from the pit lane and, “Wouldn’t it be cool if I were giving him signals that you were right on his tail?” Yes Mike, that would be cool.
I was slightly concerned that my wife and kids were still not present as I suited up, but I later found it was due to a syrup related catastrophe. Who hasn’t had to take another shower after drenching themselves in syrup? I felt very calm and centered heading out for the warm-up lap and just focused on completing the six laps and remembering Charles’ sage advice. I tried to follow my buddy Eric’s start advice, but evidently I still need quite a bit more practice. I thought I got a decent start, but Eric still smoked me off the line. Dave Moss then railed by both of us in Turn 2, impressing me with his ridiculous corner speed. I’m fairly certain turning a 2:00 lap on a 400 violates at least a couple laws of physics. I stuck to Eric’s tail for most of the lap until my friend Craig came flying by on the brakes (shocking) into 10 and dispatched Eric braking (once again shocking) into 14. Damn I need to get better on the brakes!
I’ve ridden with Eric a decent amount and we’re very evenly matched. There are a few places where he makes time on me and vice versa. I tried to ride smooth and look for a passing opportunity. The next lap I managed to drive around the outside of him in Turn 2 and pull abeam on the entry to Turn 3. I knew Eric was better than me in 3, so you may note the complete lack of surprise on my face when he denies the pass by cutting across my bow. I didn’t get frustrated, I just thought, “Ok, now he knows I’m here.” When we came down the back straight Charles was exiting the track with engine problems. Eric made it by cleanly into 14, but I was forced to run wide and it cost me some time. I knew we still had a few laps left, so I just put my head down and set about reeling him back in.
It took over a lap, but I was right on his tail again into 2 and pulled abeam his left side into 3 to let him know I was still there. I got a good run through 7 and made an uncomfortable pass into 8, but Eric killed me on the brakes into 9. As we crested the hill another class rider came into view and we split him like a rock in a flowing river. I defended the inside line into 14, and Eric decided to take the Far outside line… all the way out to the gator strip. We crossed the start/finish for the last lap and even with the detour in 14/15, Eric still managed to close up enough to out-brake me into 1. I closed up through Turn 2, but I saw Eric was going to go all the way out to the curb. As I saw were about to split another rider, I decided to hold a tighter line out of 2 in order to go to his left. I got on the throttle as early as I could and went around the other rider plus Eric into 3. That’s the first time I’ve experimented with the outside line there at race pace, but that was the only option available and I wasn’t about to concede. We hit more traffic through the fast 6-7-8 section of the track, and I just kept my head down and tried to time the passes in order to lose as little momentum as possible.
Coming down the front straight I tried to melt into the gas tank and hit my shifts exactly right. As I glanced up I noticed the strange sight of a medium sized dot growing far faster than any dot has a right to grow. I imagine it looked pretty similar to staring at Chuck Liddell’s glove when he throws one of his signature huge overhand rights. Your reaction goes from “What the hell is that?” to “Holy Sh*t I’m going to die.” Evidently one of the 250 racers had some kind of problem and figured it was ok to continue down the straight at parking lot speed. Both Eric and I managed to swerve out of the way at the last second, but each of us was inches from doing a particle accelerator impression along with number 35.
In Rossi speak that was by far my “funniest” race. Even though I missed 2:01’s by a hair, I still set a new personal best by turning a 2:02.1 through traffic. I think Eric summed it up perfectly: “If each race had a battle that good I'd never stop racing.”
Although I was planning to skip the late afternoon Open Twins race after Saturday’s nightmare, my wife convinced me to race if I felt decent. I felt recuperated enough by race time, so I decided to give it a go. I was caught behind a liter bike for a lap, but made an inside pass into 6. I could see a 999 or 749 ahead of me, but I couldn’t quite reel him in. So, I concentrated on riding smooth and bringing it home in one piece.
Two Top Novice trophies, coming out on top of an amazing battle with a friend, and a personal best time far exceeded my lowly expectations of Saturday night. Fingers crossed that the last round will be more of the same!
I forgot to turn my camera on, but luckily Eric had a tail cam running:
This is a very simple sport. You twist the throttle, you pull the brake lever, you push on the bars. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you crash.
Very cool write up, I take it you had fun I hope to race my 848 within a year or so however I need to get more comfortable with the bike first (not to mention get some track plastics, safety wire it, get a trailer, etc - all that fun yet expensive stuff)
The sooner you start racing the sooner that will happen
Wise words. I started racing last season, and Mongo speaks the truth. Your first race you will drop 3-8 seconds (average is probably ~4) off your best time - guaranteed. Racing pushes you to improve Much faster than trackdays ever will, but it doesn't come without cost. Reference the first paragraph of my writeup.
I am still not a racing 'junkie' like so much of the paddock, but I always thought of racing as being one of those things: you'll never know if it's 'for' you until you try it. Life is way to short to live with regrets.
This is a very simple sport. You twist the throttle, you pull the brake lever, you push on the bars. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you crash.
I started racing last season, and Mongo speaks the truth. Your first race you will drop 3-8 seconds (average is probably ~4) off your best time - guaranteed. Racing pushes you to improve Much faster than trackdays ever will, but it doesn't come without cost. Reference the first paragraph of my writeup. 
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