Excess 650 (780cc)

The Come And Go Blues

Motorcycles- The come and they go; Something I am always saying. Like
many of us two wheel lovers, I get emotionally attached to them. I am always having to tell people that I am not a horse trader and buying and selling bikes is
not what I do, I only work on them… but running a repair shop, building bikes from what is left laying around, and constantly surrounding myself with like
minded others means that I end up with more than my fair share of
bikes. Like a crazy cat lady or a refugee animal shelter. I have to be
carful. I can only keep so many of them healthy. Enter the story of
last weekend; A race report, a drama, and an explanation…

The first bike that entered into my weekend’s complex was  an old XS
given to me like so many bikes. “Here Newbold, I know you can do
something rightous with this.” The rusted, locked up, and given up on
Yamaha was the 6th or 7^th XS twin in such state I have been given the keys to.
I made it my ‘home shed’ project. I stripped it and began collecting
various motocross parts for it at my local motorcycle salvage yard;
1970’s YZ front end and rear wheel, A twin shock Suzuki RM swing arm
and other bits I had collected awaiting such an occasion.  The ‘Home
Shed’ project went kaput when we sold our home. It got bucked around
to my former shop.  The motor was totally gone through. I mean full
crazy build. I do what I can with what I have but when I build a race
engine, I build nothing but the best and yes, it can get expensive. But
nothing costs more than the heart break dealt from a blown up power
plant. The Engine was the climax of what I have learned building XS
race engines, And fresh. So I put it in my old trusty flattracker that
was so strung out it was starting to blow oil though the old case
castings like a drunk puking into a hand full of Subway napkins. The
old lump was ready for an easy life as a motocrosser, someplace other
than constant redline every straightaway. So enough back story on this
motocross XS bike, I finished it just in time for the weekend, the
weekend of the last vintage motocross of the season. And guess what-
The big ol girl got the holeshot and won her first moto against early
1980’s production MX bikes and then did it again in the second moto.
Not bad.

Ok, the second bike of this Saga is a little more heavy. Heavy of
heart that is. The late great Hot Carl’s 2013 ZX10R race bike. You know the
one if you know of my doings . I could go into deep detail on how and why. I wont. I don’t want to talk about it. But I will explain myself in why I came to sell it.
No, I cant talk about this. Don’t want to but lets just say that my
summer of moving shop and not working has left me with some Visa
plastic lashes on my ass. I now live 5 hours from the nearest tarmac
track. I have not ridden this expensive tire eating bike for over a year. Most of all to my defense is that Carl I feel would agree that I am a DIRTBIKER. I loaded the bike and took her with me on my way to the Vintage Motocorss race. I met my contact along the way and passed on a very special and I hate to say; lucrative race bike. He was going to race her and that made me a bit happy. Come and go. Ah!

Bike number three: Molly my trusty red headed 2009 CRF 450X. No story
needed other than the Vintage Motocross has a class for modern bikes
and it brings out a lot of nutters who enjoy the luxrery of a groomed
smooth vintage track lacking the bumps that modern bikes can make. I
battled. Passions exchanged with hot headed moto young’ns who don’t even
know the semblance of 1980’s, let alone true vintage mx.  Ten year old
Molly and 35 yearl old I made the podium, headligh, beer belly and
all.

And now the real cherry of our weekend’s tale. Bike number four. –I
know you are wondering how I could fit all these bikes in my van; I
used a little help from my friend tiny trailer. This bike has a rather
important back story. Ok. Ready; While racing the Alta in Portland I
met a friend of a friend who is a very real and genuine individual.  He
must have deemed me a decent enough gent because over a year latter he
contacted me and said he wanted to deliver his father in-law’s old
XR500 to me in Denver all the way from Portland. All he really wanted
in payment was for me to race it and send him a picture of me jumping
the shit out of it. This near perfect condition old gem was given to
me just before I packed up and moved shop this past summer so the first time I touched it was Friday morning. It started right up and ran perfect! It smoked
a wet haystack fire! I changed the oil. It was of the consistency of the black
tar found in a dying lung cancer victim’s lungs who lived on
filterless Palmals. I did not have time to put a fresh rear tire on it
which was funny because it was as bald as a bull frog’s ass. The 23”
front was nothing to get excited about. Once the bike made it’s first
lap around the track I was delighted to see it’s previous lap’s track,
like a worm trail in the wet sand. There was no mistaking what line
was left by me on the stock beauty. Moto one: I nearly got the
holeshot in the ‘Enduro class’ against nearly modern bikes as long as
they had lights. I bagged a vey solid win. Moto two: I got pinched on
the inside of the start straight by an Orange KTM with over zealous
early braking power. I had nearly no brakes and no choice but to auger into their swing arm and I did an impressive endo at speed. I picked up the poor abused and not so long ago perfect old bike to find both front brake and clutch
perch broken along with bent shifter and rear brake. I got it fired
and managed to jam it into gear and pass every single bike on the
track. Once in first place I committed a ruthlessly simple tip over in
some slimy mud ruts. I kicked and kicked and kicked but the old girl
was not having it, finally after last place passed me I saw that the
shut of switch was not in the run position. Back at it I tried my best
to re-pass everyone again with only a lap and a half to go but with
many in front of me and half a lap to go the chain broke. At least it
did not damage the cases but the poor old bike looked awful. Dents and
scratches in the tank form my knees, both lovers flopping around like
fingers that were mostly chopped off in a hydraulic log splitter, mangled chain tensioner, seeping blown shocks and all. I had a feeling I might miss-treat her so. The bike clearly deserved better than me. Maybe she had the most thrilling day of her life. However I could hardly stand to look at her. But wait! The Happy ending ensues!

After the race I attended the season final party at a nearby fellow nutter’s house and compound. This guy had Honda SL350 sidecars ripping around his yard, other XS650 DIRTBIKES and way more crazy cool bikes in his shop than even I
and guess what?! He had a 1988 XR600 with a pikes peak inspection
sticker on it. The thing had a big fin head and enough curiosity bits
and bolts on it that I had to have it and a deal was made! For this
hunky old Pikes Peak racer I traded the poor XR500 that I had just
committed severe battery and abuse upon plus my Yamaha TT500 vintage
racer that I raced last year( a whole other story all together)! Fair deal says all! Now all I have to do
is delivery one Yamaha. They do come and go… All I can do is try my
best to treat them well or at least find a home where well is well
enough. Enough… for now!

Return to Off Road

It has been some time since I have done the ol race report. When was the last time? Was it Pikes? After Pikes I do tend to wish to kick back and drink beer for the remainder of the summer but this summer was a lot different than most for me. Now settled in back on the western slope of Colorado in my new dream shop. I figured I had better get back to the off road way. After all out here there are nearly no tracks and plenty of open country. And after all my roots are deep in the land of off road DIRTBIKES! So I pre-registered for the Chimney Rock enduro, less than two hours away in the middle of Utah’s endless desert. Much excitement and anticipation leading up to this as I had not raced an off road event in some years. My 10 year old CRF450X –Molly, didn’t need much dust knocked off as I have been flogging Molly on the closed dirt road hill climbs of the CHCA and even motocrossing her, head light and all (It sure pisses off them young track rats!). I prepped the ol red headed girl proper with new knobbies, mousse bibs and all. And then two nights before the race I split my face clean open on my dirtjumper pedal bike being a complete dumbass, 13 stitches and all. FUCK. “Well, as long as I can get my helmet on- I can still race it” I told myself. The night before the race I tried to slide a helmet over my forehead. No go. No way. So I ate a big plate of rice, steak and peppers and my usual couple of beers, and set my alarm clock. Laying in bed I had the great idea of taking my cheek pad out of my helmet and putting the helmet on and then re-inserting the pad- It worked. I was on row 12. With the extreme dusty conditions and over 80 rows I felt blessed by the moto gods for this and I knew I must take advantage so even though the first few miles were only a transfer section, I pinned it like Johnny mother fucking Cambell to the first special test getting in front of as many racers as possible. I put my head down, or actually up as my swollen eye lid was in the way and focused on focusing. At the end of the desert race/ enduro I had been fastest overall in 2 of the 6 special tests. Not bad, I thought being that over half of the near 300 entrants were desert race regulars welcoming the Colorado mountain enduro boys to race with them. I finished 2nd overall. More important to me is that my aging beer belly carcus was not that tired after the race. Maybe taking a few years off and having 13 stitches in the face is a good thing. That and a few beers!