The last round of Del Mar was a shit ton of fun. Mike Ranum asked if I wanted to go a few weeks ago. He offered to drive his 1972 van the 20+ hour drive. "Sure, why not" I said. Never mind the fact that I have no money or that the van has never been on a voyage more than 100 miles from town since Mike rescued it from the weeds last summer. Sometimes in order to get a grip on life you must let go of it all, load up the van, and just have a little confidence in good times. The van gave us no issue on the drive down and we got there early enough friday to partake in impromptu practice with the sponsors; Rholand 'fancy pants' Sands and the always fun time Dues crew. The track was wet and slick and I could not even crack the throttle on my hot rod twin. The bare tire ice racing skills of the Ranum Bros (Phil caught an airplane ride with Ranum Sr.) were obvious as the effortlessly rode circles around every one else, including Roland who was going pretty fast on a bunch of crazy twin cylinder, hardtailed and street legaled contraptions.
Saturday's racing was pretty good. I realized that Dimitri on a proper flattrack bike is a forced to be rekoned with. The Frenchman was flying! Bobbles, full bar lock high side tank slap to hooking rear tire rocket launching, super style slides, and leather fringed jacket. Scary fast!! Sunday I started to get my shit together on the sandy cushion track. In my last main I got a good start and came out of turn two in first place on lap two I was very relieved to see my buddy Dimitri picking up his bike. I was very worried about him being behind me. Then I realized that I was going to lap him and that would not leave me in any less danger. Thankfully he got going quick as ever and I was able to follow him to the checkers. I took a victory lap with the flag and stood the XS up in what felt like a wheelie only seen on the streets of Baltimore. I was stoked to get the win in the vintage 400cc+ class. I also took two 2nd place finishes behind Dimitri in the Vintage twins class.
We celebrated in the pits until we were the last to leave. Shit, Van no start. A few hours, beers, and a beer box intake gasket and some rounded off spark plugs later and we found the culprit to be a cracked distributor cap. A few days later after some casino food fart induced out door sleeping we made it back home. Van and all.
