Confessions of the ego

Well, It is that time of year again. The van is loaded and ready to roll down the road to that 14,0110 foot mountain. America's mountain. The place where that lady wrote the words to America the Beautiful. The Second oldest motor race in this spacious sky having darn country. The race to the clouds. This is the first time I have not had the van packed to the Las Vegas styled rope lights and mirrored ceiling. This Is also the first time I have not had to stay up late prepping the bike. I have not done these things because as you all who read this "Hey look at me!" motorbike blog know, I am racing a Ronin. And not just any Ronin but a Pikes Peak Special Ronin built form an EBR 1190 with a master level of attention to detailing. No expenses were spared with material or the components. The top level computer aided engineering mixed with the kind of craftsmanship only expert hands can create, And wham! The most exciting and pleasing race bike to ride that I have ever known. I feel like a lot of great people have stepped up to help me this year and for them I am immensely grateful. I know that now all I have to do is ride the bike and that is what I love to do most. Thanks Sideburn Gary for making the cosmic network align, Without Ronin this would not be happening. I am especially thankful for Johnny the bike's golden wrencher. Thanks to Cosmic Cowboy for the team shirts and I am sure the moonshine that will be supplied as usual at the Lone Duck campgound a.k.a. my paradice. Nate at Blood Nickel for making art out of the leathers and even at the last minute. Hot Carl with the Wolf Brigade blog to the side has been my buddy, road race instructor and he to has a cool guy Ducati ride on the hill this year. Shit, with out all my beer drinkin, fart sniffin, throttle cable stretching buddies, I wouldn't be who I am with out you! My patient love Cookie, Thank you for helping me train for this race and be prepared mentally and physicly. I have not felt this well for years, I would be forever lost with out you. Fuckin shitty titty gang bang and PEACE!!!!!

Mongo only pawn in game of life

Live large - Take charge -and always fist pump the dude booter!

Raging the Ronin

The primary race bike was finally complete and ready for the 2nd early practice weekend. It was worth the wait. I stopped by the Ronin shop Friday afternoon before heading out to the Lone Duck camp. The Ronin team were swarming around the bike buttoning up the last minute stuff. Saturday morning at 3:00 a.m. I stumbled out of my little old shit box of a camper to find Johny with the bike ready to go with a pot of peculating coffee. The life of a factory racer is really not bad. I was a bit apprehensive to ride the new bike for the first time on the mountain and at speed. After the first few runs I was getting used to the extra 40 horse power and the shiznit brembo brakes started to bed in and just about the time I felt like I could start to find the performance race bred soul of the bike the practice session was over and the highway opened back up to the public as it does at 8:30 every day except race day. Sunday was the bottom section. The serpentine flowing faster than a speeding bullet section. I was ready to find the soul of the Ronin that started out as an EBR1190. The thing sounds like a chili cheese burger dragon fart when it launches at the green flag. I tuck in and hold the fuck on with everything I have and drag my knees in the first few corners for my first time. The front end floats through the chicanes as we dance from side to side and then grab a hand full of break leaving nothing but air for the rear slick to grip. Riding something so powerful on such a road is just plain fucking bonkers! I have found a new plain of existence and am far closer to enlightenment than I ever could have imagined to exist. I can remember how fast I felt when I broke six minutes on the bottom. Yesterday I did it in 4 minutes and 22 seconds. With the time dropped I have to remember the respect that must be gained. Respect for the road, the machine, and my loved life.

Watch out for bears near the picnic ground

The first early test weekend up on the hill was great. Back to the good old Loneduck campground for some 3:30 AM rise and shine. Friday was the first day the road was open all the way to the top. 30 fucking foot snowbanks line the road in spots! So we only practiced half way up the "w's" Double you's? Double U-s? Big switch back ass hair pins that traverse the face of America's mountain! Any hoo, saturday practice went well. The Ronin was the fastest bike in every practice run. Faster than the HRC CBR1000 and all of it's 160 horses with 450cc record holder (was my damn record!) Jeff Tigert on board and faster than the super cool looking and mean sounding RSD Victory bike with their three van twenty man team. Go Pink to pruple! I told Johny, my right hand man and master Ronin wrench how it was responding at altitude and he removed the air box lid. It then at a certain rpm literally felt like it was ripping my chest out of my ribs. We put the cover back on and made a few small mods to it and it was all good. We didnt know how the road was going to be so we ran rain tires. By the time I started to wick it up Sunday morning the tires were spent and I was riding the thing like an XR750 in the marbles at Lima. Even when the thing is sliding like a tracker it is still very smooth and easy to maintain. I am already looking forward to early practice weekend number two. Hopefully the snow banks reside and the sun keeps shinning.

In Honda we trust

Racing, living, loving, and red fucking carpet

Busy weekend. Friday practice at HPR. Bike was puking oil out the breathers so bad I thought I botched the top end rebuild. Routed the hoses up high and into a catch can and all was fixed. Drove back into Denver to pick up my beloved Cookie at the airport after her two weeks checking out India. Back to HPR before the sun was up Saturday and finished top ten in two classes and then crashed out in the third. Drove the 70 miles back to town Saturday night for my buddy Campo's Meta magazine issue 003 release party at Erico where the Womble (project retard) and my BSA chopper were on display along with the Ronin secondary pikes peak bike. I straightened the SV up, took a shower and made the party. I was totally blown away to walk in and see my bikes on center stage. It was a very good time. I managed to only have two free beers and get to bed before any pumpkins appeared. I didn't even loose my glass slipper. Back up at the butt crack of dawn for another drive out to HPR. 4th in modern vintage. 7th in Novice GTU. 4th in Thunder bike and finished it off with a 2nd in Supertwins GTU (from the 12th row) just in time for the clouds to burst. I took the day off yesterday to celebrate my Cookie's birthday and ride some roller coasters. Now it is time to work. Anything worth doing is worth doing as hard as you fucking can.