Willow Springs, Ca
05/18/96 - 05/19/96

Tech Info

Saturday 05/18/96:

Saturday was spent in the WSMC new rider school, taught by Danny Farnsworth. Danny's been racing the Southern California tracks since the dawn of time. His anecdotes from 30+ years of experience really drove home the key points in the class.

New rider school consisted of four or five in-class sessions, each followed by twenty minutes on the track. The first on-track session was follow the leader (Danny) to learn the race line around the track. I made the mistake of lining up towards the back of the pack & like the story that's told from person to person to person, by the time the race line made it to me, it was way off. The rest of the weekend was spent trying to figure out the line.

Blasting down the straight for T1 towards the end of the third track session, I lost the shifter bolt on the F2. Pulled into the pits & reached for the spare parts box. Being the smart guy that I am, I had packed a brake pedal, shifter w/bolt, pair of footpegs, and extra clutch & brake levers. Brain-dead rookie racer that I was that afternoon, I pulled the brake pedal out of the box, thinking that it was the shifter, and found that I didn't have the missing bolt. Steve went begging from pit to pit looking for a spare shifter bolt, brake lever in hand. 'That's a brake lever, not the shifter' was all he found. Smart guy that he thought I was, he figured those guys had been out in the sun too long. I went back to the next classroom session, Steve started calling the Honda dealers in the area.

I missed the last two track sessions for want of that shifter bolt. Danny took pity on me and issued my novice license anyway.

Steve struck out w/the Honda dealers, so we headed back to the motel. Since I have a matching F2 back home in the garage, I called my folks & asked my Dad to pull the shifter bolt off it and bring it up in the morning. As I was explaining where to find it & how to pull it off, the mental image of the shifter came into focus. 'Waitasec - I gotta check something'. Reached into the spare parts box & pulled out the brake lever. 'That's not the shifter!'. Reached in again & pulled out the shifter, complete with a pristine bolt! Man was I pissed - but not as pissed as Steve!

I mentioned the problem w/the shifter bolt to the parts guy at my local Honda shop (Escondido Cycle Center). He said it was pretty common for them to loosen up. The part isn't really made for safety wiring, so I used blue Locktite to keep it in place.

Sunday 05/19/96:

Rookie mistake #1 - Got to the track early, unpacked, & headed for the tech inspection line. 'Where's your check-in slip?' Damn, forgot to check into the club office first. I was faced w/two choices: (1) Ride the bike back to our pit (way down past T1), walk back to the office, check in, walk back to the pit & ride the bike back to tech (tech would, of course, be packed by then), or (2) Find some way to hold the bike up while I checked into the office (ain't no sidestands on them race bikes, Homer). Walking & waiting in line sucks, so I leaned the bike up against the concrete poles outside the club office (that's what they're there for, right?) and took care of business.

Rookie mistake #2 - the practice schedule listed the order for the morning's sessions. I assumed that there'd only be one session per class -- wrong! After rolling in from my (first) session, I pulled off my gear, checked the bike over, and climbed into the truck to relax. Thirty minutes later I heard first call for the second practice session -- Ooops --- went back to sleep.

Practice winds up at about 10:00am, racing starts at 10:30am or so. All novice races are at the end of the day (4:00pm). The time between practice & my race was spent checking out the races, reviewing my notes (still trying to figure out the race line), and catching a couple of naps. The Aramel Racing Support Crew (Mom & Dad, James, Crystal, & Valarie) showed up at 12:00. It was great having everyone there.

I started getting ready for my race at about 3:00. Checked the bike over, layed out my gear, and took one last trip to the House of Charmin. I was ready to go. My grid position was in the third row from the back of the pack. Far enough behind the experienced guys to stay out of trouble, but still have the 'thrill' of being passed like I was chained to a fence by the guys in the rows behind me.

Rookie mistake #3 - there I was sitting on the grid when I realized that I'd forgotten to spit out my gum. No sweat, I thought, throw it into the dirt at the edge of the track. Damn, Wrigley's sure likes to stick to leather gloves! I entertained the idea of wiping it off on the leathers of the guy next to me, but decided to stick it next to the tach.

The green flag dropped & I got a decent start, even passed a few guys coming into T1. By the exit of T9, though, it seemed that everyone had zoomed past (Steve was kind enough later to state matter-of-factly that that is what happened). By the time I made it through T1 again, I was racing a race by myself.

Being passed by the entire field on my first race wasn't so bad, but being lapped by almost everyone by the end of a six lap race sucked! I was still trying to figure out the race line (it looked so simple on paper!), putting the death grip on my clip-ons through T8 & T9 while the wind blew me from one side of the track to the other, and hoping to Hell that I didn't get in someone's way as they blew past me.

After what seemed like hours, the white flag (last lap) came out. Put me out of my misery! As I waddled through T6, though, the red flag came out and the race ended right there. Three riders went off the outside of T6 on that last lap. I pulled over to the side of the track & waited for the all clear. This is where it got hairy for the Support Crew.

It was tough for the crew to keep tabs on me during the race. Not only was every other bike painted in our team colors (red / white / black - shoulda' trademarked that combination!), but being passed a million times a lap created an illusion of running in first place (nobody in front, nobody in back, he must be in first place). When I pulled over for the red flag, I was hidden from everyone's view by the Essex House billboard in the center of the track. The crew couldn't see me, I couldn't see them, and there were three riders down right next to me.

I knew that the crew would be worried (they were). Being out on T6 meant I was the last guy off the track when the all clear came, so it took a while for me to get back to our pit. Everyone was relieved to see that I wasn't one of the guys coming back in the crash truck. James still had the video camera rolling: 'Now that you finished your first race & didn't fall, where you gonna go?' 'Sizzler's!'. We packed up the truck, checked the official results (dead last) and headed south.

For those of you who know our family, you know that we're a take-no-prisoners, sarcastic lot. Dinner after the races was a roast in my honor. Steve was in rare form that night and took particular pleasure in ripping off the barbs: 'Comment overheard by a corner worker on T4 - "Hey Buddy! Move It! You can't park here!"'Guess I shouldn't have made him look like such a dork, running around the pits w/that brake lever, eh?

Bob 

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