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Wow, what a track. I got in late Saturday night. I helped with the tech in the morning so I didn't get to walk the track. I rode practice with the intent of accomplishing one thing, memorizing the track. What a lot to absorb. Trying to remember what was on the other side of the hills was interesting. I rode 4 motos that day and I was struggling a bit for the first couple but by the end of the day I was wishing we could ride there every month. Awesome uphills, downhills, jumps... A couple things I noticed, lots of bike parts on the track and many loose spokes after that weekend. I also heard a couple people mention snakes on the track! I'm glad I didn't see any. The relay was a hoot as usual, we sported an all vintage, all amateur CZ team. What a blast. Thanks to all that made it possible. Tom McAllister
above: the starters Mike Gordy (in hat) Gene Wilson & worked all day & were awesome. left: Ben Radford & Tom McAllister on the startline. |
JON
McLEAN • When you have a few minutes to spare, here’s a race story
from Sunday you may like.... • I take the little Penton out on the line
for my first race of the day, moto #3, vintage 250 int. White flag comes out
for moto #2, and I’m not going to bother to dismount to go for the right
foot kickstart procedure…it’s a finely tuned race bike and starts
easy, so I’m giving it the manly left-foot boot while astride. One semi-wimpy
left-footed half stroke and it pops once and then purrs to life nicely. Starter
points down the line, I snick it into 2nd, scream it a bit and watch for the
flicker of the gate drop….Gate goes down and I gun it and unload the clutch…and….while
bikes all around me tear off the line, the little Penton lurches…backward.
Whaa? Is the tranny stuck between gears or somethun’? The competition is
quickly disappearing as I quick pull in the clutch and snick it down to 1st.
More gas, less clutch, and the Metzler is spinning backward throwing a roost
up under my feet!
It takes like 2 seconds for me to realize this is that urban-myth, backward-running
MX bike story, come to life under my butt. I hit the kill switch, bang it into
neutral, jump off and kick it over again (right-footed, hard and manly this
time), and I’m off and running fast, about 1/4 mile behind the back of
the pack. Now, determined to make good after the start gaffe, I’m riding
like the madman I only dream of being, beating the little Penton into submission
as I come up short on the mellowed-out doubles to crush the suspenders again
and again. But now I’m determined and I make time. By the end of Lap 1,
I’m catching the backmarker. No names here, but just past the start turn
I catch (Brian Wry) and for the first time I clear the big tabletop and scream
down the ramp passing the CZ like I’m possessed. Then in the humps and
bumps I see a rider off his bike, restarting after a washout…it’s
Roger Landberg! I’m saving my race and ahead of King Roger!
Now into Lap 3 and I see more target riders up ahead. The bike’s running
perfect, everything is happening automatically and I’m my zone. I catch
and pass a Husky (I think) and I’m on the tail of a Honda as I go through
the big soft off-camber left in the bottom and get ready for the show-off-for-the-pit-spectators
jumps section. I see that right corner coming up with the small shoulder-hump
on the right, separated from the wider sweep on the left. Honda-man is going
wide…perfect…I pin it and take the shoulder-hump inside line, turn
just right for a clean pass, and drift across his line a bit to close the door…then
accelerate hard up over that first blind hill to catch a decent launch, with
a crazed gleam in my eye….
…Just as the realization sets over me that this was THE blind hill after
which the track veered slightly right around the BIG SHEER BANK. Now THE bank
stood directly in my committed line as my free-from-earth slow-motion spinning
wheels hummed uselessly just above the ground, providing absolutely none of
the valuable friction required for steering. In the time it took for my stomach
to travel completely into my esophagus, Ker-whack, my front tire and left side
handlebar dug into the wall, which made for a surprisingly quick left turn into
the face of the bank. This, of course was followed by my over-the-handlebars
faceplant into the wall and ejection into a dust-cloud heap, while the arse-end
on my little Penton traded places with the front. THANK GOD for Brad Price’s
excellent flagger work, because before my vision cleared, several former passees
were flying blind over the hill at me like missiles on Baghdad...Honda man,
Husky boy, Brian Wry, Roger.
Quiet now, and I felt ok and the bike looked all there, so I kicked it about
10 times and lit off again. I was spitting dirt out, was over-heated and physically
shot, so I hoped, prayed, for a checkered flag as I went around. No luck and
I didn’t want to quit. I felt a bit better once underway so I tried to
get back on it a bit. Finally, last lap, all alone. But wait... A bike up ahead
and I’m gaining ground! Maybe a single pass after all this? I charged with
all I had left in me…running out of track now…must make move…one
corner left for the pass…aaargggh….across the finish now, beat by
Mr. 2nd-to-last-place by half a bike-length!
A most non-glorious moto experience, but an unforgettable, tell-the-grandkids-someday
racing experience nonetheless. Which is pretty much what it’s all about,
eh?
Talk later, Jon
HAMMER
& TONGS ROUND ONE
Alderdale May 29th
• Vintage Results
• • Evolution
Results • Makes
Challenge Results
• hammer & tongs tall tales • •
page 1 •
page 2 •
page 3 •
page 4 •
page 5
also see • VDR • Motocross Shirts • Hammer &Tongs • Ahrma Pacific •
©2005 SIEGE
