Lets hear some Loudon AMA Superbike stories from the old days

"They once wrote in some magazine that "Show us your tits!" replaced "Don't trust anyone over thirty!" up at Loudon."
" Show us your piss flaps" was the one I remember that replaced the tits signs
I stayed on Animal hill once ... didn't get much sleep and was drunk , high and amazed at the scene.
The naked girl being lead around on a dog collar. the guy who showed up with the Mercedes who then got out and light it on fire!
Oh and the great racing

 

At Mid-Ohio, one of the mechanics rented a golf cart from the vendor at the racetrack. That thing was quickly de-restricted and spent the evening cruising around tent city. After that got boring, said mechanic decided to go four-wheeling. Somewhere in the woods, the entire rear axle separated itself from the chassis.

I know, tame compared to Loudon’s antics, considering it wasn’t set on fire or anything. The funny part is that it was rented for a case of beer up front, no ID or credit card information was exchanged.

 

Fred Merkel doesn't seem very distracted. This photo and the second photo in Post #13 were taken by Dylan Code.

 

I even got my picture in Biker Lifestyle magazine!

 

Colin’s first time at Loudon is a fun one to listen to. Scared shitless teenager sleeping at the truck while all the craziness is going on.

 

Christmas in June! This guy had a hell of a racket going on. He dressed up as Santa and hung around the Turn 4 bleachers.
Bikers walking by would suddenly get the bright idea to have their girlfriend's picture taken sitting on Santa's lap.
He really got off on that.

 

Colin Edwards? Hell, the nineties were tame once NHIS was built. There was actually a police presence up there and all.

 

{{{IIIIIIIICE}}}......{{{IIIIIIICE}}}}.....{{{{IIIIIIICE}}}} lol

 

Dear Mr. Goddard?

 

Well damn. I had no idea Sandy had been arrive that long. That's awesome.

 

London was where the dream was born for me. I grew up in Nashua and my dad and his brothers all had bikes. We would ride up, check out the races and then camp at a campground up the hill from Weirs Beach. I was there in the early to late 80s and my last trip was probably around 90-91 but being a girl crazy teen, I parked my ass at the beach chasing tail.

 

I went to the Formula 1 races at Watkins Glen in the 70s. I'm assuming the atmosphere in the bog was pretty close to animal hill at Loudon. One year the officials erected a six foot high chain link fence around the bog to try to curtail the shenanigans. By around 6:00pm on Friday the fence was flattened. By midnight there were dozens of burning vehicles in the bog.

 

I never heard that one. Somebody must know the story. Please be merciful.

 

My first encounter with Ted Goddard was in 1981. He stopped me at the Chicken Gate and told me that if I passed through there with the "Tit Patrol" lettering on my fairing one more time, he was going to throw me out on my ass.

I did some cornerworking in the early 80's with Bob and Peggy Cole. I joined the LRRS staff in 1996, working scoring at Start/Finish, then over to Electronic Timing and Scoring with Steve Baron. Steve was very demanding about
the results he released, having me compare the hand scoring sheets to the computer results. I was supposed to resolve any conflicts before sending results to the Media Center. This was very time consuming, and the folks in the Media Center were getting upset with the delays in receiving the results. This came to a head in 2001. At an officials meeting, Manual Scoring was directed to send their results straight to the Media Center. Steve said there was no point in keeping me in Timing and Scoring, so it was suggested that I take over the Pit Steward position, with a mandate to reinvent the job.

I was told that I had to speak to Ted Goddard to formally apply for the position. I talked to him about it and he started talking about me as a third party. "Yes, we were talking about this yesterday and Don said that John Butler would be a good fit for that job. We need to talk to John Butler first and see if he wants to do it."

I had to cut in. "Maybe I should go back to the beginning. Mister Goddard, my name in John Butler. I am interested in the Pit Steward position."

The look on his face was classic. I was on the staff for five years and he didn't even know my name. He shook his head everytime we ran into each other for the next couple of weeks. I printed a copy of the Biker Lifestyle picture with the text added and gave it to him. I suggested he stuck it to his fridge with a magnet so he could remember who I was. The text read: "Dear Mr. Goddard, Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is JOHN BUTLER."

 

Brock Yates once wrote a column in Car and Driver entitled "Father Kills Son", which summed up The Bog nicely.

Which brings us to the Hobart Grand Prix. Back in the the day, if you left the U S Grand Prix at Watkins Glen headed north on Route 14, you would hit a logjam in the traffic at Geneva. On the stretch of Route 14 where the frat houses of Hobart College were located, the Brothers would stop you and ask you to do a burnout. Kegs of beer were on the side of the road after the "finish" line. If your burnout was looked upon favorably, you were directed to pull over and everyone in you car was given a beer, then you were sent on your way. Obviously the Geneva Police frowned upon the disruption of traffic. In 1972 I was a Brother at Delta Chi. The police directed each fraternity to appoint two marshals to do crowd control. I did double duty that year. I was a marshal and I also waved the checkered flag for each burnout.

 

I went to Loudon once, back in the early eighties. I took the whole family in the Mazda GLC. It rained. Spencer was running away with it, but then he crashed and Lawson won. I also remember there was a big hairy french canadian hells angel staggering around under the grandstands holding a big bowie knife. Basically a long drive for not much of a race. The Blue Ridge Parkway was the highlight of the trip.

 

Very simple. Drunks start campfire. Hilarity follows.

 

You crazy motorcycle-loving Brits.