The Wreck

Not a motorcycle wreck thankfully.

On the way home from the October 5 trackday at PIR I got in a wreck. The vehicles in front of me stopped suddenly and I rear ended one of them. Stuff like that happens when you're towing  with a Chevy Malibu.

ODOT and PPB showed up to contain the scene. It happened in the center lane and my vehicle was disabled so ODOT had to help me to the shoulder. After dealing with the other drivers, police, and a tow truck taking my disabled car away, Tyler and I were left on the side of I-5 with a trailer containing our bikes and gear with no way to get it home.

U-haul was taking its sweet time sending out a tow truck for the trailer, and they said we needed to remove our stuff or it would be locked up in a tow yard. Our friends were unable to get a tow vehicle, so we hatched another plan: we would convert our bikes back to street trim and ride home.

Right there on the side of I-5 we reattached street parts, removed tape, added air, and re-enabled lights. Two different riders stopped to see if we were alright. Our buddy Sam came by and picked up our excess gear leaving us and some backpacks to carry back with us.

Finally the tow truck arrived and towed away the U-haul trailer so we departed. A few miles down the Freeway the strap holding my toolbag to the back of my R6 failed and it fell off onto the chain side and started rubbing. I was on the bridges, so no place to pull off. I gingerly kept riding with visions of something getting caught in the chain in my head. Once off the bridges I pulled off and re-secured the bag (which had nearly fallen apart from rubbing on the tire).

The unoffical Wrecking Crew motto: Wreck it, keep riding.

What seemed like an eternity later (freeway riding SUCKS) we arrived home. Tired, cold, sore from the wreck/riding, and me stressed the fuck out from my car getting wrecked.

As it turns out the insurance is totalling the Malibu :(

Last two trackdays of the season

As September was coming to a close my buddy Tyler started encouraging me to go to one last trackday in Early October... and to take him with me. Then other friends started bugging me to go with them to Thunderhill. I talked to my boss and next thing, I had both days off and ready.

I set about readying my bike and loaded up with Dillon. We trailered our bikes down to Medford and loaded up onto a toy hauler with two other riders. We made the obligatory Trackday Junkies stops at Liquor Expo and In N Out before arriving at Thunderhill Raceway. The plan had been to spend the night there in the toy hauler, but Pacific Track Time hadn't paid for camping, so they kicked us out.

We'd met another Trackday Junkie there (she had come up from the Sacremento area to hang out with us), so with her in tow we went into town and got some hotel rooms. Ralph had convinced Junkie Bradee that her bike needed new tires since she was down to the cords, so she stayed the night with us (stored her bike in the hotel room. don't tell the mgmt).

Whats there to say about T-Hill? Its an excellent track. Lots of elevation change and good corners. The track surface is in good shape and PTT runs an excellent show. I started with a virgin (no miles, at all) rear tire and the first few laps were squirrely as fuck. After getting my suspension adjusted by Kung Foo Grip I was feeling pretty comfortable and was running some of the faster times in C group at 1:44.

The way home was uneventful besides my bike falling over in the trailer and breaking the windshield and cowling (d'oh!).

Just about two weeks later I loaded my shit up on a heavy ass u-haul trailer with Tyler's SV-650 and headed up to Portland International Raceway. We got to PIR kinda late but were able to pit next to our buddy Sam (see Wrecking Crew ride). We missed part of the riders meeting but didn't miss any track time.

First session was a little uneasy for us all. Sam was trying to get his confidence back from a bad crash and had never been on PIR. Tyler and I were trying to get our pressures sorted out and learn the corners. Midway through the morning someone spilled coolant on turn 1 and got the track shut down for half an hour.

About that time the wind kicked up and was gusting pretty hard. For a few sessions I was misinerpreting the wind for tire slide from the coolant spill and it killed my confidence. After talking to one of the coaches I remembered what Keith Code said: Bikes don't do anything every few laps, only riders. So I went back out and ignored the sliding feeling, and would you know it, my turns felt really good.

Our last session I started three bikes behind Tyler. I caught up to him after a few laps and passed him. Hell yeah. He chased me like a motherfucker for a few laps getting on my ass through 7-8-9 each time and finally passed me out of 9 just before checkered flag. Helluva last session for us. The pic of us going through 9 is excellent.

Wrecking crew ride

Wrecking crew: Brat pack, R1 Wolf pack, Crotch Rocketeers Our day started like any other. Meet at McDonalds/Chevron, BS, hit Decker Rd. Whilst cruising through the Alsea curves one of the R1s lost his brakes and lowsided. I was near the back of the pack and came around a corner to see the GSXR rider in front of me giving the danger ahead signal. We all pulled off, helped rightside the bike (a beautiful red/white crossplane R1). The rider was alright, and save for some cosmetics, nothing that a little bit of elbow grease couldn't put back together.

 We were back on the road quickly and made our first stop in Alsea. The lowsided R1 needed its brakes bled (the reason for the crash). With that out of the way we were zipping towards the coast. Highway 34 offers plenty of good corners, and plenty of places to get stuck behind traffic. For the intrepid rider on a powerful machine, with the will to cross the double yellow, one can overcome the traffic.

I kept up with the main pack, leaving the SV650 and Honda 250 cafe racer behind.

We rallied at Waldport, took pictures and rested. Then we departed north to visit the twisties where an overconfident rider had totaled his bike a few weekends before. I don't see what the big deal about the crashsite was, but I know my limits...

In Newport we ate lunch, fueled and tackled the last leg of hwy 101. HWY 101 would be awesome if there was no speed limits or tourist traffic. Sure you can pass one RV, but you just get stuck behind another.

Siletz HWY is another cornering enthusiast playground. It has an excellent mix of curves, twists, and sweepers. Most of the traffic was no problem to overcome, but one vehicle accelerated like mad to try to prevent our passing on a straightaway. Douche.

In Siletz a pair of riders (green ZX6r, Black R6) passed us and stopped just down the road. They were still passing a joint back and forth when we departed.

Our next wreck was on Logsdon. I felt it was an excellent road, but the newest rider on the ride felt the asphalt. His body positioning wasn't good and he lowsided. With help from the fixit guy he got his bike back rideable and caught up with us at the next rally point.

The last leg was several miles of marked 25mph continuous corners. An excellent road. You finish one corner, and position and ride into the next. Very good rhythm to it. At the end of that road one of the more experienced riders complimented my riding. Coming from an excellent rider like that, its a huge compliment.

200ish miles, two not so bad wrecks, amazing memories.

The trailer project, Pt 1

If you live 2+ hours away from the nearest track, chances are you're going to need a trailer. The local Trackday Junkies I know use their trucks to haul their bikes and didn't have room for mine. So I was in the market for a trailer. One of my neighbors was selling a folding utility trailer (like the Harbor Freight ones, but different brand). I checked it out and lowballed him due to the grumbly bearings and old tires.

He accepted and I had a trailer. One side had lost its grease while driving (you could see streaks of grease on the wheel, negotiating point). The other seemed fairly intact. The good side came apart with a few whacks from a mallet, save for a bearing getting stuck on the spindle. On the other side things where stuck and fused and horrible. At first I tried with the mallet and a screwdriver to free the hub assembly from the spindle. I ruined the screwdriver and broke one of the bearings inside the hub (thus making it more difficult to remove).

Then I bought a hammer and chisel, that got it part way off (and got the stuck stuff off the good side). Then I got a bigger hammer, a smaller chisel, a hacksaw, and rented a slide hammer puller from Autozone. With the bigger hammer I succeeded in breaking the bearings inside the hub and getting the hub off. The bad part was, the races stayed in the hub and on the spindle. One race I got out with a punch and some hammering, the other was stuck in the hub because I'd marred the metal on the outside of the hub with a chisel (d'oh!).

Some time with a dremel tool fixed that, and I was able to pull that race with the slide hammer. The last
hurdle was a race stuck on the spindle. Boy was it stuck. I tried to chisel it off and only succeeded in breaking parts of it. Out came the hacksaw and carbide blade. I cut into the edge of the bearing (and part of the spindle), then beat the big chisel with the big hammer into it until their was a gap between the race and the spindle, to fit the punch into. From there it was a few whacks with a hammer and punch and it was off. 

Total dis-assembly time, including running to home depot, autozone, and napa, somewhere around 4 hours. Why didn't I just get new spindles? The old ones were welded in. Also I'm a cheapass, and the whole point was that I got this trailer for cheap. It'd defeat the purpose of a project trailer if I spent more on it, than I would have on a new fancy trailer. Tools purchased for this: 12oz hammer 4lbs hammer big chisel small chisel punch hacksaw, carbide blade slide hammer (rented) How I SHOULD have freed up the stuck bits was heat up the whole shebang with a blowtorch, then beat it off with a big hammer and block of wood.

Unfortunately I didn't as the right questions, and broke things, and did things the hard/wrong way. Thats half the point of a project anyways, to learn something, right? Next up, pack the bearings, assemble the hubs, and hope I didn't damage the spindles too much! Maybe it'll be ready for my trackday in three days and a wakeup, but probably not.

Afterglow

Five O Clock rolled around as though it'd forgotten to set its alarm and woke up two minutes before it had to be at work. But that really isn't where the exciting part starts. I didn't even hit the commute home right away. First things first, gotta hit the gym, gotta be good.

 After feeling the burn, the excitement doesn't start either, I have to get home. I hop on my white single speed roadbike and start peddling. Boring long stretches of highway give me ample time to get my heart rate up, and think about going for a real ride. Its funny how some of the riding position and techniques cross over between a road bicycle and a sport motorcycle. The hunched over riding position, the leaning and turning, and the necessity to keep light on the bars. Although obviously a 20lbs road bicycle is a tad twitchier than a 400lbs sportbike.

I whip through a few turns near the skatepark, pedal hard down the last straight, make a suicidal dash across four lanes of traffic, one last right/left turn, then ease up the speed and coast up to my garage. I put the kickstand down and look at my therapist, Dr. Yamaha, as I take off my bicycle helmet.

As I get inside my apartment I send off a few text messages to local Crotch Rocketeers asking them if they want to go ride. They say no, as expected on short notice. My bicycle clothes come off and I slide into my Alpinestar two piece suit. Wallet, registration, insurance, in my inside pocket; cell phone, keys, in my right and left outside pockets. I stride out towards my garage, my track boots squeaking with every step. My ear plugs are already in, I can't hear the children playing, the wind, or the passing cars. All I can hear is my own heartbeat and the ever present ringing in my ears.

The sun is sliding down towards the horizon, but there's at least an hour and a half until sundown. Lots of light, but I'll be riding into the sun for a few parts of my planned ride. I turn the key and listen for the fuel pump to drive the bubbles out of the lines and prime the carbs. Just a few turns from the starter and the tiny 600cc inline four engine screams to life.

Revs increase with the engine temperature then decrease as I let the choke out. Just a few minutes later I'm cruising down the highway south of Corvallis. Traffic is light. Theres a medium wind blowing from the Northwest, which is a little chillier than I'd like. The signs for Airport road slide past, I turn on my turn signal and downshift, veering slightly into the turn lane. I dip the right side of my body towards the handlebars and tilt my head as I anticipate my turn in point. I lock my knees into the tank to keep from getting crossed up and steer.

My R6 dips into the corner, I give it some gas and it slingshots out. I ride the speed limit past the airport, not eager to draw attention out in the open by going fast. Its a mile of straight road with a mild curve before the next corner. The suggested speed for the left hand corner is 35.

I enter at just over the posted speed limit with a late dive in, late apex, and early hard throttle on. My corner exit feels spot on and solid. I realize its going to be a good ride. No hesitation, no feeling "off", and no survival reactions. The random thought enters my mind that I should mix up my entry point to these back roads so I don't piss off the residents. I clear the though from my head as I hit the brake marker (suggested speed sign) for a 15mph corner.

Good thing I just changed from glazed over OEM pads to these nice new ones, and got new fork oil to replace the 13 year old stuff huh? The front dives as I brake hard, but stays stable and solid. I dip my inside shoulder, countersteer, I'm at the apex quickly and rolling on the throttle hard to exit. There's no houses for half a mile, so any thoughts beyond "woohoo that felt good" don't cross my mind.

Corvallis is an agricultural area and as such many of the roads are depressingly (to a Crotch Rocketeer) straight. Today I decide to minimize my risk of an unpleasant run in with Benton County Sheriffs and take it really easy on the straights heading out to my favorite twisties.

Decker road. How to describe Decker road? Its our own little piece of MotoGP in our back yard. It starts with a mile long straightaway then alternates a few posted 35mph corners with two long sweepers before jumping up into the hills, over a ridge and down into a valley before dumping into the highway to the coast. Unfortunately theres a section washed out that hasn't been repaired that breaks up the whole uphill pace of it. Oh well, still an excellent ride.

The only traffic I pass on Decker is some bicyclists whom I give a wide berth (the advantage of being on two wheels, easier to share the road). Once I get to the Philomath side I whip around and head back. I concentrate on my body positioning, keeping my torso low and moving it into the corners to avoid getting crossed up. I try to keep the throttle as smooth and steady as I can, keeping my eyes off the gauges (and trying not to worry about my speed). The lower I get my chest to the tank, the more I keep my knees locked into the tank, the more stable I feel. Its exhilerating to feel this kind of control whipping through the hills like this.

My survival reactions are remarkably calm, replaced by this feeling of joy, conquest, and euphoria. The second half of my loop gives me similar feelings but as the sun sets and the cold northern wind starts to get to me, I decide to head for home.

The last few agonizing straight highway miles on my return trip give me time to think about what a great trip its been. Not just this ride, but my experience in life since getting into motorcycles two years ago. Each sunny day I'm stuck in my office I'm thinking about being out there with my R6. Each rainy day during the winter I'm imagining living somewhere I can ride comfortably all year long. Each evening and night I spend wrenching on my old bike, learning new things, getting angry about the constant maintenance an old bike takes, is time well spent to have the kind of conquest I just had.

Sure there's failures like the crash I had shortly after getting endorsed, or on a smaller scale blowing a corner (but not crashing), or breaking something I'm trying to fix. But those failures just make the victories like realizing my skills are improving that much sweeter.

I suppose this entry is just a little sappy, but what else would you expect from an afterglow?