Ted Hubbard #23 BSA

I don’t remember the first time I saw Ted. Probably at Roebling and the H-1 was still considered a “modern” bike, so that gives you some idea how long ago it was. He was always just there, this old grey haired guy, in faded red leathers and work boots, with the dirt track looking BSA’s. I didn’t really pay too much attention to him, just figured he was some old dirt tracker that couldn’t hang it up. Anyway, he wasn’t even riding a “proper” road racer.

Later on, at some race, I found myself pitted close to him and found out more about this guy. I was having a particularly difficult time with one corner and asked Ted how he was getting through it. His advice was, “just gas it.” During the conversation, he started mentioning names like, Hailwood, Nixon, and Mann. He spoke about places like Daytona, Brands Hatch and the Isle of Man with a reverence in his voice. It was then I learned that he was much more than some old dirt tracker. Ted was the real deal. I took a closer look at his machinery. There was nothing fancy about them. They bore the marks of many a battle and a purposeful look about them. Nothing fancy, just a tool to do the job.
After that weekend, when we saw each other, we would always speak and he would give me one of those trade mark smiles, but I was riding a two stroke and him the BSA’s so we traveled in different circles.

Some years later, at Roebling again, I was watching practice over at T5. For some reason, Ted was out with the modern guys on the new 600 Ninjas and FZ’s. I began to take notice of him coming through that corner. He was going faster than any bike on the track, through T5. His line never varied more than 3 inches and he repeated the exact movements of throttle and brakes each time. He made those young modern guys like slow. I’ll never forget that sight.

As time went on Ted’s health took a turn for the worse. He continued to ride, but you could sense, he was struggling. I was pitted across from him at Talladega and I remember, he came in early, before the race was finished. He motored up and cut the engine and just sat there on the bike. At first I thought he needed help, but then I realized he simply could not bring himself to get off, maybe because it was his last time. I’m not sure, but I don’t think he raced any after that, except for the lap of honor at Roebling.

The last time I saw Ted was at Kershaw, last year. His health had deteriorated but he was still able to make the effort. He still had that smile on his face and that trademark snigger and gave me the same old advice, “just gas it.”

Ted passed away last night. He was a hero and it hurts.

“Just Gas It.”

 

RIP... GodSpeed...

 

RIP

 

I did not know Ted on a personal level, but much respect to any man who can have an impact on another like he did to you Mark.

RIP.

 

Nice thoughts Mark. Thank you.

The impact and contribution Ted Hubbard has had on my racing "career" cannot be simply expressed. I'll write more as I've had time to digest his passing. The simple fact I have a shop full of BSA's is singular testimony to Ted.

More to follow.

RIP Ted.

 

It always a sad state when someone like this passes. I am a young buck, 27, and i IDOLIZE the racers of days gone by. I never have seen Ted race but from the sounds of it, it was quite a site. It is a shame to hear about his passing......they just dont make em like the guys of yester year. God bless you Ted.

 

RIP Ted,
I raced against Ted in the late 80's. We were both racing 500 singles, except mine was a Honda. I even let Ted ride it in practice at Roebling since he hadn't ridden a modern Honda. He always was a pleasure to visit with and full of great advice on all aspects of racing.
Godspeed.

Ken

 

Pat and I first met Ted in 1986. We saw him several times a year at the track and always he was a first class competitor, a great bike builder, and a fine gentleman. I helped him clean out his basement one time (bought a Yamaha TD2 from him) and he helped me improve my general knowledge of motorcycle engine dynamics. He forgot more about engine design and development than I'll ever know. What a guy!

Ted, we'll miss ya. God rest your soul brother.
Lyn Garland

 

Very sad news indeed.
I first met Ted in the 80's when the stuff we race now was still "modern". Ted was certainly a man's man, tough as nails, but he could be counted on to help out anyone at the track. I know that Ted will be looking down on us this weekend at JGP with his wry smile.

Godspeed Ted.

Paul Garland
101

 

.... The only B50 engine that was faster than my 350 honda..... Nice to have known you Ted.

 

Huh, wow...Ted will always be frozen in time for me flying around the banks of Rockingham on that BSA sitting bolt upright, and just getting it....How can that old guy go so fast, I wondered at the time...That BSA's exhaust note just bellowing off the walls....Mr. Hubbard was a racer, and I say that with reverence....RIP Ted.

 

RIP

 

That is indeed very sad news. He was such a brilliant individual yet very humble.

 

Godspeed.

 

I had the great honor to have known Ted for many years, He was a great racer and even a finer human being. I shall treasure my memories of Ted, his wonderful stories, and the time we shared. I am proud to have called he a friend. He will be missed greatly.

John Early

 

I met Ted at Road Atlanta 2003 when I took my Riders class.
It was in between classes and I walked over to watch the racing. I ended up standing next to this older gentlemen (I was 47 at the time) and we started up a conversation. Ted blew me away with his knowledge of racing and I came away with a better understanding of what it took to be a good racer. I wish I could have spent the rest of the day talking to him and learning.
RIP Ted.

 

Thanks Ted . . . .

I came to racing relatively late in life – 39. I had been riding motorcycles on the street – too fast – and I’d done a few track days. My first race was Savannah, Spring 1997, on a BSA B50. The motor was built by Ted Hubbard, and I’d built the bike from photos I’d taken of Ted’s B50’s at Talladega the preceding November at the AHRMA finale. After spending just a few hours with Ted, I figured this guy knew a thing or two about racing . . . .

During that first outing, I rode that B50 all day. Later, Ted told me he thought I was trying to wear the bike out all in one day. I did not understand what vintage racing on old British equipment was all about. After practicing, I talked to Ted at length about the track and various corners. He told me that if you got Turn 9 “just right,” you could go thru it with the throttle full on the stop in top and that would give you a great run down Savannah’s long straight. I, naturally finished dead last in my first race. In my second race, I was circulating, alone, but I was becoming increasingly comfortable on the B50. Midway thru the race, I decided to give Ted’s theory about Turn 9 a try. I set up the bike out of 8, clicked it into top, hunkered down and with a steely glint in my eyes, I put the throttle to the stop and cranked the bike over into Turn 9. It was exciting. As I exited 9, I ran out of track, while still heeled over, the throttle still on the stop because Ted said it could be done, and I promptly ran off on to the grass at a very high rate of speed. I stood the bike up and eased off the throttle, and after bumping along for what seemed an eternity, I managed to guide the B50 back on to the track to a clapping Chuck at the start/finish line, my leathers full of my lower intestine. That was my first understanding that Ted knew what he was talking about, but his understanding and experience level was just a wee bit beyond mine.

Ted taught me how to road race. He taught me all I know about building engines. The man could tell you the timing setting on Hailwood’s 1970 Daytona Rocket Three. He spoke of preparing Dick Mann’s 1971 Daytona winning Rocket Three the night before the race, the special valve job he gave the head, how he wrapped rags around the foot pegs because that was the way Bugs liked it, how he swapped out the head after the race and before post-race tech. He had the trophy from the 1971 “200 Miler” in his dining room - - Bugs Mann gave it to his mechanic after he won Daytona on the last British bike to win that race. He flew Corsairs in Korea. He raced and finished the Daytona 200 on Goldstars and Triumph 500’s. He told of racing the 200 where he had no support. He’d come in for his pit stop, lean the bike against the pit wall, get his funnel and fill the tank, back the bike up on compression, take a run down pit lane, bump start the bike, and re-enter the fray. And he finished 8th overall. On a bike he built. Let’s see Miguel, Aaron, Ben, Scott, Matt or others do that.

Ted drove me home from Daytona 2001 after my turn 1 crash, concussion and broken collar bone and visit to the infield medical center. He loaded up all my stuff and made sure I got home. He always had time to answer questions, look after your stuff, help you out - - even tho’ his own equipment needed attention and he was sacrificing his practice time. Ted never complained. He gave and gave and never asked for anything in return. And he always did so with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

I never beat Ted Hubbard in a race. He was always so smooth and fast. When I started wining, he was ill and slowing down. I followed him, and learned a lot. His racing was effortless, and it is a smoothness to which I aspire today. He taught me how to read spark plugs. He taught me how to set timing by ear. He taught me how to read tires. He taught me gearing. Where does it end? What I know about racing, I owe to Ted Hubbard.

Ted was not perfect. No person is. But he was a racer’s racer and a damn good friend. His advice in many situations was simply “Just gas it.” That sometimes resulted in an engine rebuild, but hey, you sure weren’t going to win at part throttle. After he quit racing in earnest, he asked me to race his number: 23. I was flattered. I am more so today. I can only hope to be a part of the racer Ted Hubbard was.

My one regret is that I never flat tracked with him. We spoke of it, but his health, my schedule, and other interferences precluded it. I hope that as I pursue dirt track riding, Ted’s spirit and advice will somehow appear in my psyche. One thing is sure, when in doubt, gas it.

Ted, you were my mentor, my teacher, my benefactor, my drive-me-home-from-Daytona-bud, my mechanic, my advisor, quite simply . . . my friend. The last year as Ted slowly declined was difficult to cope with. But, he was always there. Always had something positive to say. But now he’s gone, and there is a huge void. Literally, a chapter in BSA history has been closed.

Thanks for everything Ted. I love and miss you. Godspeed, and I hope to represent your number well, and to some day reunite and catch up on racing.

 

Good story. Thanks David.