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what a cruddy morning.... I woke up late again. As usual. I don't have time to post a good one today. However, I've got a special little something for all my faithful readers. (All 4 of you now!)

Does anyone know what usenet is?? Most of you webcentric hatchlings probably don't. For you old geezers like me, it's nice to know that usenet is well and alive. Anyhow, I was still pretty active in the usenet group alt.motorcycle.sportbikes up to about last year. I wrote a post about my experience on the track. I thought it would be good if I could repost the message on there to here. My writing style have changed quite a bit since I've started doing daily blogs. So what you're reading won't sound as good. (At least that's how I felt. Maybe I'm just too darn critical.)

Anyhow, never the one to leave anything alone, I edited a few sentences here and there. Hopefully you'll have fun reading it, and get a sense of my joy that day. After reading my post, take a gander at my trackday pix -> HERE Maybe now you can appreciate it more. I know I can!

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I guess I've finally done it.

After many years of talking about how great it would be to let it all out on a track, I put my clutch where my mouth is; and I'm in love.

There's nothing more enjoyable than hanging out with your buds with bikes on a perfectly sunny day, all doing the one thing we love the most; flogging our bikes around a closed and controlled strip of asphalt. With another 70 people all worshipping the 2 wheels that makes a motorcycle what it is - Pure adrenaline kick in the pants.

There were 4 of us. Fido Dido - 1997 YZF750, madcanadian - 2000 R1, kawipilot - 2000 ZX12, and moi, LoSir - 2000 CBR929RR. We all decided to take it easy and join the "Street class".... The slow pokes, the guys who don't do track days normally (or at all).

Track prepping the bike:
change coolant to water
mirrors removed
light/turn signal/reflectors taped
numbers on the front
sticker to show what class I was in
full leathers - boots, gloves, helmet, earplugs.

I'm ready to go... aren't I?
My first tech inspection (at 8am no less) was rather nerveracking for some reason. I kept thinking that the inspector was going to
sudden say "Uh-OH! You can't take this on the track....go home son."

Phew, everything went without a hitch. The yellow twist tie went around my front forks like the Sunkist guys would when an orange passes quality. I even got a little sticker on my helmet to say it was track-able. Yippie!

Our rider meeting was brief, and I frankly didn't hear much of what the guy was saying. Something along the lines of what colours of the flags meant, easy on the wheelies, no passing on the inside, etc. All I could think of was: "I can't afford to dump."

For the guys who's never been on the Mosport "Fun" track, we had orientation laps. It was supposed to show the track line and to get everyone at least realizing how many turns there were on the track. Of course you can't *learn* a track in 3 - 4 laps, but we would by the end of the day. Okay, maybe not learn, but at least knew when a turn was coming up. :)

So much for orientation. In the second lap, a girl went down. Enough damage that it was the end of the day for her. I'm not singling out the girl, because when I talked to her friends, they all swore she'd be one of the fastest riders out there, gal or not. There goes that myth that sportbikes were only for guys. But it's starting to hit home. This can be dangerous, and expensive.

At first, we were all fairly timid. Afterall, these were OUR bikes, the puppies that we ride daily from work to home, or posing at the local pubs. These bikes were our second wives/girlfriends; at times even better company.

After several sessions, I was passing the *slower* guys. Don't get me wrong, I'm pitifully slow too. But it's so much of a confidence builder when you realize you're not the slowest guy out there. There were couple of people who were extremely quick. I tried to hang with a few of them. A particular blue ZX9r was probably the fastest guy on my session. He admitted that he should have been in the Hot Shoe/Fast Street guys, but he'd rather not, since they were fairly wreckless.

True to point, each time the Hot Shoe/Fast Street/club racers got out on the track, someone went down. Nothing life threatening; broken hand, bad bruises, ego shot. Even an RC-51 went down, which was costly, since both sides were damaged. Ouch, I can't afford to fix my bike.

By mid-day, I was running relatively quick. There were 25 in our group, I was running maybe top 10 - 12. At least I'm in the top 50%. But there were still turns I couldn't figure out. Either I was boggin in the turn, which made my exits crawl, or I would nail the turn and fail to get on the gas earlier. How do those guys on TV do it??

After lunch, we were all fairly tired. But now, we were stupid enough to *race* each other. Braking into corners, showing wheels at a turn, passing 2 - 3 riders in one shot, hogging the racing line, doing everything we swore we wouldn't do. Not exactly hooligans; more like fun without brains.

My 929 is an incredible piece of machine. It's way more capable than I will ever be. The problem is that at least on this track, I really did need a damper. Although my friends don't believe me, the sucker was tankslapping when I was hot on the gas in 2 particular sections of the track. Even when the suspension was tuned to my weight (160 with gear). There's one particular spot, where the track crests and there's a divet. I tankslapped hard enough that the marshall had his red flag ready. He was staring at me, I could tell he thought I was going to lose it, heck, I thought I was gonna lose it too. And this all happened before we have to brake into a 2nd gear right hander. Thank goodness I didn't dump.

Near the end of the day, I was scraping pegs. Oddly enough, my knees never touched once. How sad is that. I even asked one of the organizers there.... how come I can scrape pegs, but I can't kneedown?!

He asked me to show him my form on my bike, which I obliged. After a bit of analysing he said "Look at your pants, your crotch area is too low. Pull up your pants!" I realized to my horror that the reason was twofold. My pants were custom made, but since then I had lost a little weight, my pants were kind of sagging. The crotch area was too tight, so I couldn't bring my knee out 90 degrees. By pulling them up I was able to stretch my knee really far out. I vowed that by next session I would kneedown, or die trying.

Last session, my friends and I were lined up one after another, I was in second. When I first hit the turn I had problems with throughout the day (a sharp right hander and then hard on the gas onto the backstraight), I brain-farted. One second I'm worrying about kneedown, and the next second I'm bouncing my bike in the dirt, motocrossing towards the safety wall. I was too scared to brake, and too scared not to. Something about pumping the back brakes and staying off the front.... Yeah, yeah, let's give that a try. And stay AWAY from the fence!!

Bumpity bump, and I stop. Later on I realize that some of the dirt sections had ditches left by rainfall. At least they felt deep. Anyhow, I stopped without incident, bike intact, ego shattered. I look behind me, kawipilot was doing the old visual fixation routine, and followed me off the track. Heh, if I'm going out, I'm taking one with me. EVIL LAUGH.

Back on the track, wholely spooked, but I still ride with a fair bit of gusto. I didn't knee down once, but I did scrape my peg again. Something along the lines of not moving my arse off enough on the seat. Checkered flag comes out, and for us, that means one last lap and then exit the pits.

My nightmare corner appears again, and I'm ready! I brake hard, notch it to second, letting the braking momentum stand me up and I slide off my seat like superhero. My knee is out, I'm ready.... and guess what?? I'm off the track again, getting close to the fence. How can the same stuff happen to a guy twice?! Luckily the bike stays upright. My friends will forever remember me as the guy who got off the track to pick apples. Picking apples is better than picking pieces of my bike I guess. I ride into the pits with my head low. Fatigue is a racer's enemy.

5 minute goes by, and a hub-bub is stirring in the ranks. An R1 went down, hard. Right at the very last lap. And he went off where my 929 tankslapped. Apparantly, he hit the same divet that I did, and his bike went flying. He let go of the bike, sliding to safety while the poor bike cartwheeled. Wow. The damage was significant. Although repair-able, it would take much $$$ and labour to bring it back up. Scary, that. Coulda been me.

Anyway, I've learned a lot about myself and my passion. I really do enjoy the idea of me racing. Of course, at 29, I've pretty much written off the idea I'll be picked by Team Honda. Let's face it, I don't got it. But what I did get was more respect for the guys who do it for a living, the guys who grind away at insane speeds with tens-of-thousands people watching your every weight shift and knee saves, tempting the laws of physics and bewildering the mind with their extreme lean angles. Awesome!

But what I respect the most is the bike. You can't ask for much more (altho a steering damper is definitely soon), and when I realize how fast I was going on the track, my little law breaking spirt to the local convinience store seems trite in retrospect. Yes, I can go much faster in a straight line on the highway, and I can probably achieve the same lean angles on my favorite twisties, but at what cost? Betting it all for a smooth patch of pavement devoid of motor-crud and gravel? Nah, I'll ride safe on the road, and leave the crazy stuff on the track. At least I'll slide to safety, instead of sliding into a guardrail.

I'm getting a track bike and a trailer. That's the end of it. It'll be my hobby. There's no doubt (bar the lack of funds). I won't use the 929 as my primary race bike, since I won't be able to learn as much. A 250 sounds right. Yeah, that's the ticket.

What I also have to appreciate is my girlfriend tagging along for the day. A lot of guys were jealous, not because I had a GF, but rather she was willing to wake up at 6:30am to spend the day with me. Plus I bought her an offical Honda Racing shirt, and she had an umbrella.... Heh, my own personal umbrella girl. I might not be fast, but I sure as heck POSED the part. :-)

Rats, I guess I've finally done it.

--
...Power of a litre bike, handling of a 600, wind protection of a 250.
. // \asiliat the wonder puppy
| ^ ^ |Yellow/Blue/White 2K 929
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------------------------------------- posted by losir at 1:51 PM