Loss

Today the motorcycling world mourns the loss of one the great ambassadors of motorcycle sport, The Kentucky Kid, Nicky Hayden.

His accomplishments and impact on racing are being talked about throughout the international motorcycle community, along with an outpouring of grief.  I have few words to add to what has already been said but want to leave you with this quote in regards to Nicky from "Knotcher" found on the WERA Motorcycle Roadracing Forum:

"I'd rather be half the man, than all the racer."

Green With Envy

It's a funny thing when passion trumps logic.  Those rare moments that silence the naysayers and odds-makers, when a thing happens not because it is likely, but due to the sheer force of will and tenacity of the parties involved.

One of those moments happened this past weekend at Round #3 of the Virginia Championship Hare Scrambles Series in Martinsville, VA, when Will Nauta, of Gretna, VA won his first 30+ C class race.

Why is that rare you ask?  People win races all the time, no big deal.  Well it is kind of a big deal, because Will, only in his second season of hare scrambles racing, was riding a Kawasaki KDX200, a design so long in the tooth that even the manufacturer dropped it from their lineup over a decade ago.  A design with engine technology that was cutting edge way back in the early 1980s and suspension tech from even earlier.  A design that many racers look upon as quaint and outdated, a playbike, the kind of thing that could never win races in this modern day and age.

Only on Sunday, May 7, 2017, Will and his well fettled, self-tuned, but stone axe tech machine were a force to be reckoned with, taking the win after a last lap pass on the leader and winning the race with 20 seconds in hand, a small speck of well seasoned Green in a sea of Austrian Orange.

Congratulations to Will on his gritty win in the muds of Blue Ridge and for showing us all you don't need a $10k dirt-bike and a $50K toy-hauler to kick a little ass and have an obscene amount of fun....

Respect.

Post-race, splattered with mud.  Note the conventional forks with dangerously low underhang. 

On top of the box! 

The spoils of war, Blue Ridge beer stein trophy.  Maybe the KTM number plate helped?

VCHSS Round 2 "April Fool's" Random Pictures

Pictures from the VCHSS April Fools round, where I ended up the fool by being docked two positions in a bad call by the flagman.

Worst Foot Forward

What, you say?  Two races into the season and no long winded multi-post race reports?  Whatever is the problem?

Suffice it to say things have gotten off to a somewhat ignominious beginning for my 2017 VCHSS season.

I was taken out twice on the first lap of the first race by two different riders, the second mishap led to some trail-side fisticuffs (a moment I not proud of).  Battled my way back from last place to 2nd, 56 seconds behind the eventual winner Pete Jenkins.

The second race I had a stupid first lap crash moments into the woods that left me unable to re-start the bike for over a minute.  Once again dead last out of 22 riders.  Worked my way to 7th, then to 5th for the second lap.  Having caught up with 3rd and 4th place on the last lap I waited for someone to make a mistake, which the 4th place rider did, and I passed.  Pete Jenkins is in third, now directly in front of me.  I am running out of time to get by, so I knew I would have to force the issue in the woods.  We come to sort of a straightaway, with about 16 inches on Pete's right side to make a pass, I went for it, and made it stick.  Putting my head down for the next three miles to make sure he couldn't re-pass led to a mistake that would later cost me.  As I came out of the woods I was momentarily blinded by the sun and came into timing and scoring a little hot.  In order to avoid taking out the rider in front who had slowed dramatically, I ran a wheel up on his inside and hard on the brakes.  The flagman accused me of making a pass in a "no passing" zone, which is a little bit ridiculous considering I never got by the rider (who I knew was in a different class), and promptly disqualified me.  The flagman would hear none of my explanation and I was soon surrounded by other spectators shaking their heads at me.  I was told to take it up with the referee, which I did.

When the referee arrived I shook his hand, told him my name and class and what had transpired, all in a very calm tone of voice.  I learned a long time ago yelling at officials is never the way to go.  He promised to look into it.  An hour later the decision was reached, since I had not actually passed anyone they would not DQ me, but they still felt it was necessary to dock me two finishing positions, which brought me from 2rd to 4th.  I was then given the choice to take the 4th or the DQ.  I took the 4th place, knowing those points might came in handy later in the season.

There it is, in a nutshell, my season so far.  Not exactly the way I hoped, but that's the way with racing.....

The only picture from the last two races, you can barely see me behind #31

  

Ummm.......Yeah.....

I spend a lot of time alone.  Ride, wrench, live.  This generally means that when I do something stupid or embarrassing, there is no one there to see it.  I like it that way, I get to have a laugh at my own expense without worrying if anyone else noticed.  And when the joke is over, it's over, there is no grinning chucklehead constantly reminding me of that thing I did that one time....

On rare occasions though, I do something so monumentally (*warning, non PC descriptive term to follow, consider yourself warned) retarded that to not share it, at least in some uncharted, rarely visited internet backwater blog such as this, would certainly be a crime.

So for the intrepid wanderers and other happenstance visitors who might stumble upon these ramblings, I present, for your amazement and amusement, photographic proof of my latest bumble and bungle.  I will provide you with three pieces of information regarding said photograph:

1. It was late, I was very tired, and pissed because I had already pinched one brand new tube. 

2. The tire iron is coming out, not going in.

3. I ran a two hour race and three 1.5 hour practices before the iron in question began to make its egress (from what was essentially a brand new tire).

Well Mom, if you ever needed any further explanation as to why I am not a doctor, here you go.

The Calm From the Storm

Friday, 3/24/2016  

48 hours before The VCHSS Joe Lloyd Memorial Classic Hare Scramble

There comes a point, a few days before the first race of the season, where training ends and the focus turns to good rest and final preparations.  Nearly 100 hours spent alone on the bike since November, to which piles of chewed up knobby tires and scuffed plastic fenders will attest and a matching number of hours spent in the gym as well, all working towards the end goal.  Race wins, a championship.  Domination.

With final hours approaching, there is no further level of  physical fitness, no greater riding skill or technique that can now be achieved.  I have done what I can.  Other than a new set of tires mounted pre-race, the motorcycle has been improved, developed and maintained as much it can be, as have I.  Test of bike, body and brain awaits.  Has it all been enough?

I think so.

Ignite

Internal combustion engines require three basic components to run: fuel/air mixture, ignition and compression.  With these three things and the universal laws of physics and chemistry (of which I have barely a gradeschooler's grasp), it will run, forced by tiny controlled explosions.

Aging racers however, require a bit more.  Pain that's a week old spreads across my neck and back.  I am no longer young, though I continue to act as if I am.  The body protests and sometimes the mind weeps.  Lacking youth's illusions, vividly aware of the potential consequences of these actions, some might call it immaturity.

But none of that matters when I hear the announcer scream "TEN SECONDS" and wait with baited breath for the flag to wave, feeling the tiny explosions inside that remind....

The flame still burns.

2004 Gas Gas EC300, beginning to look rather aged, like it's owner....