The weekend started by loading the van while the bike still had DOT's. I figured I should have swapped them to slicks, but once the van is packed, there's no turning back. Arriving at the track, I dropped anchor and unloaded the bike. Going through tech, I failed, since my front, exhaust, header bolts weren't safety wired, and the bar end had fallen off of my left Vortex handlebar. I swapped out the bar, and safety wired the header. It was already a great weekend, and only 30 minutes into it. I returned from Tech and decided that I should run my slicks for the day, hopefully finishing them, so I could get rid of them. Being the thrifty racer this year, I'm trying to stretch every penny. So, tire swap #1 began. About 10 minutes later, I was putting on the finishing touches of the front end's safety wire, when I heard the impact of plastic on plastic, and the bike jutted forward and hit me in the head. I screamed an expletive or two, and looked up to see that Sean Jordan had just backed his CAR into my bike. Apologetic, he stepped out of the car, and inquired about my disposition. My first thought was to make sure the bike was still safely on my trusty Pit Bull rear-stand, the second was to kick Jordan swiftly in the ass. For those that didn't hear, the previous weekend, at VIR, just 7 days prior, Sean had crashed his FZR400, twice, rendering it useless. He and I were sharing a pit, but it appears that I didn't get far enough away. Sean had come to Summit Point to be a cornerworker for the day, and was just trying to find a suitable spot to keep his car. I didn't think that my bike was a good place to park it on, but it was too late, I was now under the "Jordan Curse". Despite the early morning shenanigans, I was turning some low 1:24's in practice. That was better than anything I'd ever done at Summit Point, so I was very excited. In that excitement, I forgot that George Mood was in charge this weekend. No sooner did my practices finish, then did the rains begin. George is the Race Director for WERA, but has, time and time again, earned the nickname "Rain Director". The downpours came in waves, just to make sure that George's presence could be known. Believe me, if there was a whale around, I'd have tossed ole George in it. So, now it was time to make a decision for tire swap #2, as I barely trust slicks at Summit Point in the dry, I wasn't about to tempt fate with it wet. My race wouldn't be for another couple of hours, but I wanted to only make one more swap. My choices were Full Rains or DOT's. Seeing that the rain was not puddling on pit road, I opted for DOT's. Of course, the minute I applied the last twist of safety wire, it began to rain harder. This year I'm riding on the Metzeler/Pirelli bandwagon, and this weekend I had the SuperCorsa's. The front tire is basically a slick for the first inch and a half of traction. After that, there is what I call, the courtesy cut. It's a 1mm wide x 1mm deep slice that is there for mere decoration, but allows the tire to fall into the DOT category. At this point, all racing tires are either 'slicks' or 'not slicks'. Dragging the Dept of Transportation into it, no longer has merit. Anyway, This fact weighed very heavy on me, as the channeling of water was an important issue. The rain did not subside for a good hour, and the first race of the day, Novice Middleweight Solo, began. Impressively, the race did not get red flagged. But once rider did crash on the front straight. As the Expert MW Solo began, I heard my name on the PA, being announced that I was IN that race. I high-kneed it to registration, where I got the error corrected. I feel it was a dubious plot by another Sean, Sean Clarke, to further the "Jordanization" of my weekend. The end result was that I would trade my front row start, for a back row. "Jordan!" Actually, this is probably a good thing, because later, I asked myself, "When WERE you going to check your grid position?" Had I checked it an hour earlier, it would have greatly reduced the immediate panic attack I was feeling. Returning from registration, I listened to the PA, and I could hear that turns 3 and 9 were still yucky, but that the straight was beginning to dry. I visited my pit neighbor, Scott Gowan, and saw that his bike was decked out in Full Rains. My conundrum continued, as I knew that my DOT's would not safely allow me to finish this 30 minute race. After some hard core thinking(ok, a trip to the bathroom), I decided that I would go with a Rain front tire, and DOT rear tire. It would have all the grip in the slop, but all the drive in the dry. It was a master plan, and it had to work! Tire swap #2.5 was completed, and I began to mentally prepare for the race. Foreshadowing: Earlier in the day, as lunch was ending, Randy Moran and Sean Jordan were hanging out at Roach's, DCCycles.com, pit, which was next to mine. These two were cornerworking together in Turn 1, and implored that they NOT see any of the racers up close, and personal. That the 150' distance would be close enough for them. I tried to laugh it off, but I knew I was already doomed. After all, Jordan was there. LW Solo - 30 Mins ----------------- By the time the 5 minute board was displayed, there was no more precipitation falling from above, and the track was relatively dry. There were very few wet spots, and I began to fear the worst about my last tire swap. Looking over the field, the rain was enough to scare away many of the field, but I was still in the back row. Al threw the green, and I let fly a beautiful start. I almost passed the entire field before turn 1, leaving only Romeo Carelli directly in front of me. I didn't think I could get by him, so I waited for him to turn in, so that I could tuck in behind. To my surprise, he grabbed some more brake, and I had to either pass him, or hit him in the keister. I passed him on the left, and leaned into the right hander. I thought to myself, "I just got the holeshot from the back friggin' row!", and that was that. The front end let go on the slick concrete, and I surfed the bike into the pea gravel. I picked up the bike, and looked back to see if anyone was about to run over me. I gave the bike a once-over, and was amazed that the bike did not shut off AND I didn't break a single object. Not a lever, or shifter, or body part. Thus, my RAM Racewares Frame saver did it's job, tremendously, to keep all of he important pieces off the tarmac. About that time, the cornerworkers arrived. Have you figured out who it was? Moran, knowing that I'd be dazed, yelled directly into my face shield, "You need to go get RE-TECH'ED! Got It?" I nodded yes. And then I felt it. The curse tightened around my body, and I was nearly suffocated in my own leathers. I couldn't look directly had the source of the power, but I knew it was close. There it was, JORDAN laid his hands again upon my trusty steed, and I expect the bike to explode into a thousand piece beneath me. But he was not done toiling with me, and he allowed me to go back on track. Apprehensively, I made my way around and came into the pits. I have never had a stop and go penalty before, so I have never gone WFO on the hot pit. I looked at the people standing against the wall, and I hoped with every bone in my body, that none of them would move. If they did, I could not guarantee their safety as I kept the throttle full on. As I roared to the end of the lane, Jim Roth, the man in charge of post crash tech inspection, gave me that puzzled look of, "What are you doing here?!" Snapping to his senses, he hit all the important levers, and yelled, "Go, go, go!", and I took chase. It was not until this point that I began some introspection. I had just crashed...in the wet...on the first lap...and I was beginning to take chase of WHAT? What was I really chasing? First, second, and third place had to be long gone by now. Did I really have a shot at 4th? What the hell am I doing? Brake for Turn 1 stupid! Is the bike really ok? So, I spent the next 9 turns determining if the bike was going to pitch me. It was sound as the bike wasn't shedding body parts. I felt confident with the traction, and as I passed the entrance to the pits, missing my chance to come in, I again doubted my mission. I began thinking about last November when I started going to the gym. I went for 3 days a week, and sweated, profusely, for an hour at a time on a Cross Country/Stair Stepper machine. I thought about how that if I pulled into the pits right now, I would be throwing all of that conditioning away. I couldn't bear the thought of parking the bike, and sitting in my lawn chair, while I could be out here doing what I really love. I made the decision that since there's at least 25 minutes remaining in the race, I'd hang out and hope for a red flag. If it did, I'd get another shot at the restart. I lowered my head, threw back my ears, and went into race mode. I started picking off Novices one by one. Later, I found groups of two, and eventually, a white plate. Since I didn't know how racers started, I couldn't count my positions. Jordan was still controlling the spirit world with his evil powers, and no red flag was thrown. Exiting Turn 4, I looked across the carousel, and saw the familiar Yellow and Black paint of my pit neighbor, Scott Gowan. He was a good distance in front of me, but the target on his back glowed a alarming red! I started thinking that I could catch him, because I had two things going for me. First, he was on full rain tires, and with the track so dry, his tires had to be shot. Second, he had to have watched me go, but probably had no idea that I was still in the race. On the next lap, as I entered T5, I saw him in T7, the next I caught him exiting turn 9, and on the straight, I drafted past him. ... Last year, there was a solo endurance rain race in which Gowan was a novice, and I was an expert. I was leading the expert race, and he the novice race. As the laps dwindled, I allowed him to catch up to me, and on the last lap, I waved at him to come passed me. I did this so that he would always have the right to brag that he beat EVERYONE, including the experts, while he was a novice. Fast forward to the present, at to the end of this weekend, Scott looked at me and said, "You're not going to tell anyone that you crashed and still beat me, are you?" ... When you crash, it sometimes feels good, because you know one is coming, so it's nice to have it out of the way. When you finish well, it's always a good feeling. But to crash and still take 5th place, which paid $50 cash, is a entirely different high. It's definitely not something I've ever done before, but don't hope to do it again, but I can cross that off my racing "To-do" list. ----- Sunday was the Suzuki contingency day. I signed up for Formula 2 and LW Twins. The LWT is were the payoff is, Formula 2 happened to be prior to it, so I wanted to use it as a practice to get out my jitters. Formula 2 --------- For this race, my objective was to practice the start, and see how I was doing after a couple of laps. If I got whooped early, I'd just pull in. No sense in chewing up more tires than I needed to. Being the Mid-Atlantic Regional Champion for this class, I had the pole position. I beat my chest a little, but thought that this year ain't last year, so this is the last time I'd see this spot...don't screw it up. When the green flag flew, I nailed the start, and waited for passes to begin. Brian Kraczget, of course, came by on his FZR, but didn't pull too much of lead on me. Amazingly, I hung with him until Turn 4, where he began to gap me. By T7, he'd pulled a sizeable lead, but I had the opportunity to watch a Summit Point Specialist for over 6 corners. You can't get that off the shelf at Wal-mart. On the straight for the first time, a gp bike drafted past, and I followed him for a few laps. I took a peek back and saw that there weren't any bogies behind me, so I decided to stay on track. I figured that since I'd wasted a heat cycle on the tires, I might as well try to collect some Metzeler/Pirelli contingency for doing it. And, a 3rd place plaque never hurts in the collection. With a lap to go, I got passed...hard! I thought my engine died and that a parachute was dragging me to a stop. Some fella on a two-smoke passed me on the straight with his ass on fire. Later, when I spoke with Romeo, who finished 5th, said the guy had passed him the same way, so I wasn't so embarrassed. Needless to say, that pass stuck, and I hung on for yet another 4th place. LW Twins -------- It was finally here, the reason that I'm racing this year. The Suzuki Cup Contingency program is what I think about day and night, and this was my first race of the season for it. I finished 15th in the Cup last year, but I'm hoping for a 5th to 10th this year. As I sat in the luxury of my 2nd championship-earned pole-position, Dave Yaakov, who finished 3rd in the Cup race, gridded next to me. I gave him the customary wave, thinking "Don't smoke me too bad", as he, like Kraczget, is an amazing starter. As the one-minute board went sideway, and 'Airborne' Al Wilcox through the flag, I heard Dave bog his bike, as I nailed the start. I was stunned that I had just beat Yaakov in reaction time, but figured it couldn't last more than the quarter mile. Dave regrouped and began to pull past, but I could tell he didn't like what he'd done. My strategy for this race was to shadow Dave for as long as possible, and hopefully gap myself far enough ahead of 3nd place, that 2nd place would be mine uncontended. Due to Dave's pseudo-botched start, I rode his tail section for an ENTIRE lap. Yet another huge accomplishment for me, as last season, I couldn't even keep him in sight for 2 turns. On the straight, I needed to know if my plan was working, so I snuck a peek backwards. Quoting Hannibel Smith, I thought to myself, "I love it when a plan comes together." There was someone just getting through Turn 10 as I was hitting the finish line. At Turn 3, I peeked again, and I was in the clear. ... Although I had not seen Jordan today, he must of laid down enough mojo to last for over 48 hours. Unbeknownst to me, the leader of the Novice race, SuperNovice, who was riding a fire-breathing, 85+Hp, SV700, was working his way through the experts. Unsuspecting, Steve Long, on his 58Hp NSR250, was exiting T3, when SuperNovice encountered him. Steve reported that as he exited T3, and headed towards T4(In which you go from track right to track left), SuperNovice misjudged everything, resulting in locking up his front brake, and slamming into the side of Steve. SuperNovice hit the tarmac, and he and his bike headed for the tire wall. Steve stated that he was amazed that he kept his own bike up in the melee. ... As I rounded T10, I looked forward to seeing the display of the crossed Green and White flag, signaling that half of the race had been completed. What I got, was a fury of red flags waving vigorously. I could hear the evil Jordan spirits laughing as they toyed with my emotions. Not only did I get a great start, and have a VERY comfortable lead over 3rd, but now, I was going to have to do it all over again. You see, if the entire field does not see the halfway flag, then the race is restarted from the beginning. When I rounded T3, on the way back to the hot pit, it was obvious why the race was stopped. In front of the tire wall laid SuperNovice, and above that, in the trees, was what was left of his bike. Above THAT, in the BRANCHES of the trees, was what was left of the bodywork, that USED to be attached to the bike. Rumor had it that the bike returned in 6 distinct pieces. During the cleanup, Todd Funkhouser fueled the bike and doused me with water. I discussed strategy, and asked who was behind me. They said I had half the straight away from the next bike. Back on the starting line, Yaakov gave me a look that said, "Don't even think about it, chump!" He's probably botched only one start in his entire life, and now it didn't matter, because he was about to set the record straight. As the flag flew, I could only tuck behind his tail, because he jumped an entire bike length within 2 seconds. We freight-trained for turn 1, and I again hoped to place a gap between me and 3rd place. On the first start, Sebatian DePinto's shifter lever fell off. After the first lap, he went into the pits. While fixing the lever, he heard the race was stopped, and he prepared himself for another run. When he passed me after the second restart, I began wondering where he was the first time, and why was he ahead of me now. Turn out, he was the recipient of a lucky break, or he had sold his soul to the Branch Jordanian's. Regardless, I tried to hang with him, but Sebatian was on a mission. I started to hope for 3rd. Next, Greg Harrison passed me entering Turn 1. Greg has probably turned 99,000 laps running the WERA endurance series, and other miscellaneous sprint races. He probably has about 16 laps total on his SV. It was nice to follow him, because he's another long-time Summit native, but, I was surprised to see that the SV wasn't agreeing with him. There were numerous corners that I could gain on him, and was able to show him a wheel. After a couple of laps, his exhaust packing began to fly off the back of his bike. It was coming from the can, but from in front of his rear wheel. There was crap flying in my face, and at one point, a golf-ball sized chunk of something, clunked me squarely in the forehead. So, as if I didn't have my hand full, now I'm dodging shrapnel. I tried pointing at his bike, to let the cornerworkers and starters know that his bike was shedding pieces, but everyone just thought I was waving Hello at 130MPH. On the last lap, the barrage of fodder was over, and Greg was still ahead of me. As the final plague, I was now cursed with lappers. For those of you that missed my report from VIR, I had trouble with a lapper, when I brushed him, and my brake lever locked on his handlebar. As a result, I went from 2nd to 4th. Approaching turn 5, Greg was held up by a few, so I set him up for a in-carousel pass, but was thwarted by more lappers in T7. Greg took an inside line, and I saw him brake hard, so I ran around the outside. Taking the long road, I still couldn't make the pass, but two more lappers exiting T8 forced Greg to the inside again. If I checked up for the lapper, Greg would be gone. If I tried to pass all three on the outside, the worst that could happen is that I would check into the Hotel Grass Stain. I hammered the throttle, and broke for the outside. Four bikes wide into T9, and Greg and I emerged side by side. He had a little on me, but we charged up the hill to the final turn. I had the outside line on him, but two more lappers were right in the prime line. We had no where to go, it was "Gut Check" time. Greg dove inside again, scaring the closest rider, who bobbled, which scared the next lapper, who bobbled, which scared the Hell out of me, but I didn't bobble. I drove up onto the alligator teeth and stayed on the gas. There was a third lapper past all of this mess. Greg pulled beside him with ease, and looked back to see if I was in the dirt. His first glance my direction was blocked by the two lappers. On his double take, he could see that I was momentarily stuck, and that a drag race was about to settle this. If you've never seen a big shit-eatin' grin shine through the visor of a helmet, then you haven't raced. Greg was ear to ear, and he lowered his head to a full tuck. I tucked behind, used the draft to gain on him, but as I left his draft to make the pass, we crossed the stripe. He took 3rd by half a bike length. Yet another 4th place for me. That's 3 from 6 for this season. Upon arriving at the post-race tech inspection, it was revealed what the airborne bike parts were. Greg had a stock shock, which couldn't handle the beating. Due to this, his exhaust canister was cracked, and he had lost all of it's packing, and a significant chunk of the canister itself. Jordan had his way with my bike, body, and emotions, but the evil mojo curse was broken by my ability to finish each race, and to do so in the top five. I need to thank the following people for getting me through this weekend: MARRC Cornerworkers -Especially Randy Moran! WERA Officials -Al, George, Marge, Jim & Diane, Sharon, Emily, Judy, Jim, Buford, and Dan! Fast Lane Cycles RAM Racewares JB & Trackside Supply MW Services Sisson Landscapes SpeedWerks The Plastic Doctor Todd Funkhouser Jennilynne Guthridge Romeo Carelli Jason Schnechner And a special thanks to Sean Jordan, for letting me blame the entire weekend's worth of my own blunders on his one little mistake.
