Thanks for the well wishes guys, it was a hell of a weekend at America's National Park of Speed.
The wife and I packed up and left for Wisconsin on Wednesday afternoon to take in some of the sights along they way, which normally includes great craft beer, enjoying the likes of 3 Floyds, Lakefront and 3 Sheeps.
We arrived at the track Thursday afternoon and got in the queue to get into our paddock. We ended up in the same spot last year, right near pit in/pit out which is great for getting a rolling bike show as the racers travel past. Unfortunately not much time to walk the pits this year, more on that later.
AHRMA has instituted a one tech per weekend process which makes the pain of waiting in line more manageable. That is unless of course you either crash or remove safety wire that holds oil behind it. Again, more on that in a minute.
With tech done Friday morning, it was simply a matter of checking tire pressures and going over the bike one more time. All good, though I still had my worries about the weird clutch issues I had been having since Barber last year.
Friday practices went well and I was able to get all 4 sessions in to get a feel for the track and was hoping to see some good lap times as I got more comfortable. I started the day with 3:05-3:08 lap times, slowed a bit as the day progressed to around 3:10. Surprised I slipped so far but there was no sense in worrying too much. Times in practice were stronger this year than last and I knew they would get better during race time. Last year I was able to put down 2:58 on the track during the race.
Saturday brought two more practice sessions of which I did the one right before lunch. I forgot my transponder so no clue on lap times but everything felt good for race 3, right after lunch.
Race time came and the bike lit right up, no issues. The race started with me on the front row next to my cousin and uncle, whom have 5 championships in the class between them. I got my usual less than stellar start but came out in 3rd place into T1, about 5 lengths behind my cousin, the current #1 plate holder for the class. Those two are wicked fast and began pulling away immediately. I settled into a nice groove, laying down low 3:02 lap times throughout the race. I never saw another guy in my class, but also didnt know if someone was stalking me or if it was a runaway 3rd place.
Last lap going downhill toward turn three and disaster strikes. I go to down shift from 4th to 3rd, let out the clutch, nothing. Shift again, nothing. Im hard on the brakes and as I am trying to find a gear I get wide in the turn, with a handful of brakes and touch grass and go down instantly. The front wheel tucks, I fly off and tumble into the grass with the bike, settling about 15 feet off the tarmac near the sand trap at T3. I feel the pain in my shoulder right away, but have the ability to get to my feet and get behind the concrete wall out of the impact zone. Just as I settle into a shady spot off track I see my uncle and cousin go by on the cool down lap. SH*T, 3 miles left of the race and my clutch craps the bed and I crash. The crash trucked picked up my ride and called medical, so I got a lift in an ambulance for the first time in my life. I was greeted by the snarkiest doctor I have had the displeasure of meeting and he quickly assessed my situation. He took vitals and noticed my heart rate was 113, and despite being a doctor at a race track, didnt seem to understand that racing and crashing tends to boost your heart rate a little. About 10 min later, my wife Ashley walks through the door and lets out a sigh of relief that I am OK. After getting a clean bill of health, I made the walk back to my pit area to assess.
Just as I arrive I see Kenny and Carnie from Cycle X hanging out. I had been talking with Kenny for the last week or so about making the trip to RA to see me race. Of course he missed my race and crash by minutes, but was there for the aftermath. We quickly got to work on figuring out what the issue was with the clutch. We noticed that the wheel turned freely in every gear, but it shifted, so not apparent transmission issues. I pulled the clutch cover to have a look and Kenny and I were greeted by the sweet smell of burned clutch. Upon disassembly, we discovered the clutch totally cooked to death. Of course my backup clutch is 400 miles away sitting in my garage, right where I don't need it. Now I need a full CB750 clutch in the next 12 hours to make the race on Sunday. A quick trip to the pits reveals a complete but unloved early '75F that looks like its better days were before I was born. I so happened to remember that Dennis (Old Scrambler) was at RA and might have what I needed. I found a buddy of his, Chris in the pits and we both called him, no answer. I spent some time talking with Chris and collected my '77F frame for my Superbike project and headed back to the pits with Ashley, Kenny and Carnie without a clutch.
Dennis had made a stop at my pits earlier and introduced himself to a few of the guys I race with and when I got back to the pits, someone says that they saw him on a CB750 getting ready to do the sunset cruise on the track. SWEET! I go to pit in and wait like a puppy dog until I see Dennis pull off the track on his green CB and I flag him down. "Dennis, need a clutch, and I hear you might be able to help." Sure enough, he confirmed he did and we set off to his storage building to find the pieces to make my racer whole again. He had everything I needed to turn the weekend around. Dennis and I parted ways and I drove the 7 miles back to RA with my wife, blasting our favorite songs along the way, feeling good about our prospects for Sunday.
Back at camp, the sun was getting low in the sky and a fellow CB750 racer, Steve Pettinger, was pitted next to us, offering me any tools and much needed light to get my task completed during the twilight hours. My wife isnt much of a wrench, but shes a damned good team mate, and offered to help where she could, for which I am forever grateful. I finished the clutch install, making sure everything was perfect each step of the way, and sealed it up and headed off to bed. Too late to start a bike now, it would have to wait until morning.
Morning came early, as they do when camping outside and the sun comes up just after 6am, and it was time to get to work. I fixed the broken brake pedal (the only physical damage to the bike besides one broken wire on my ignition idiot light) and it was time to start the bike. Im thrilled to say that it lit right up and settled to a familiar idle. I took a ride around the pits and as I was almost back to my paddock, the engine starts to sputter, I pull in the clutch as I roll forward and let it out to try and bump start the bike back to life, nothing. I walk the bike back to the pits and begin to assess. My uncle Jeff comes over to check progress and we decide to check spark first. Maybe something pulled loose in the crash. The Iridium plugs are hard to see a fat spark, especially in the sunshine, but it appeared to be there. Then it flashed through my brain, maybe the gas was off! Of course I looked and when I thought I had turned if off after my ride, I had actually turned it on, meaning it was off for my ride. Gas on, got it. Back to the rollers. Boom, lights right up again and Im off for one more test ride, which goes flawlessly. I pull into the pits and get the bike on the stand just in time for 1st call for practice group 3, my only chance to test the bike at speed before my race. I suit up in record time, despite a pretty sore shoulder and get back to the rollers, bike lights right up again. It seems to be shifting better than it has since Barber last year, things are looking good.
I get out on the track for practice and put in some fairly aggressive laps, still remembering my spill yesterday, but not concentrating on the past, only the future. Back to the pits after a few times around, and go time was only a couple hours away.
Lunch passed quickly and I was ready for race 3. I was again on the front row, with Jeff and Nick (uncle and cousin) to my left, all ready for a drag race down the front straight. Again, my usually slow start though better today than Saturday, complete with wheelie, leaves me behind Jeff and Nick, drag racing with a couple other guys in the class as we run full song into T1. I had a chance to dice it up with another fast XS-based bike for the first lap, getting passed and passing a couple times, before being passed for good, settling into a 4th place spot. My plan was to run my race and deliver the best finish I could and go from there. A couple laps later I see the 3rd place rider pull off onto pit lane, and my first though was I somehow missed the checkers and since the track is so big just never saw anyone else out there on cool down. Well if you run the checkers you get fined $25, but for that I was willing to pay since I had not seen checkers yet. Sure enough I was still racing. Every corner I checked to see a flag pointed at me or waving or something to indicated I screwed up, it never came. The next lap I finally saw the checkers just as I was passed by the leader from wave 1 climbing the hill toward the start/finish. I was thrilled to have finished 3rd, back on the podium and redemption from Saturday's crash. I cooled down and made my way back to the pits, where I was greeted by my wife who told me I had gotten 2nd place! My cousin Nick had dropped out due to a warped brake rotor, leaving me with 2nd and Steve Pettinger with 3rd. That makes 3 podium finishes on the weekend for CB750s!
The time after the race included breaking down camp and getting ready for the 5 hour ride home back to Michigan. We said our goodbyes, though only for a short few days, as racing picks up in my back yard in South Haven, MI at Gingerman Raceway this Friday.
I will do my standard maintenance items like oil change and faster check, but I will be running the stock clutch that saved my butt again this weekend. Here's to a couple days off to prep and rest before getting into another great weekend of road racing.
A massive thank you to my wife Ashley, who is definitely by biggest fan, to Dennis for the clutch and the sage advice on NOT mixing parts, and to Steve Pettinger, our camp mate and CB750 nut that helped me get through the weekend.
Your boy, running about 25lbs lighter than my last race:
Good drinks with great company on the way to RA:
Hero pose, ready for battle:
Getting serious:
Come on knee, just a little lower!:
