The first time I raced Pikes Peak I knew I was taking part
in something special; At the riders meeting I was sitting between Eddy Moulder
and Joe Kopp. It was the first time I had ever been on a race course with
anything other than knobbie tires. It totally blew my mind. It turned me into a
full blown high speed junkie and as the surface became less dirt and more
pavement over the years I learned how to race my dirt bike with Supermoto
slicks and then a full street bike and then a couple of full blown pikes peak
specials with enough power to scare the shit out of anyone. After 11 years of
competing (one of those as crew chief for Isle of Man racer Paul Baleta) I am trying to hang it up. Again. 2019 was the first year I didn’t show up and it will most
likely be the last year motorcycles will race there. Too many deaths and no bikes will be allowed next year... Closure.
The place has shown me great victory and horrible loss. One
of the most amazing spectacles I have ever seen was Mike Ryan drifting his
several thousand horsepower semi truck. Like a Run-away locomotive belching
black smoke, sliding sideways through corners only inches from the edge of
sheer cliffs. One practice morning he spun out on the lower section, his 18”
wide truck tires leaving massive skid marks off the road where his rig left a huge
swath of clear-cut forrest. He totaled his truck but come race day he rode his street
going motorcycle to the top just so he could be there. The worst spectacle I
ever saw was up top. After completing my race run I went to watch other bikes
cross the finish line. The first bike I watched was a Triumph Daytona 675 with
a cheeky rider giving the two finger hand signal as he crossed the checkers.
The hand signal can mean peace or victory, neither of which he was about to
receive. As his hand was not on his break lever he veered off the edge of the
road surface at 80+mph and into a boulder field. His bike and body exploded
right before my eyes as they rag-dolled through the air pinwheeling off of the
large rocks.
In 2012, my 5th year racing I had finished runner
up twice and 3rd twice in the 450 class. It was the first year I built a Pikes Peak special
race bike from the ground up. It was also the first year I got lucky and
convinced a girl to slumber in my van with me during race week. To the credit
of the special lady and motorbike I won my first class victory on the big hill.
I used the large victory pay out money to open my own shop and I married that
wonderful women.
My next victory on the hill was actually another 2nd
place finish but it was 2nd overall motorcycle and 1st
was a HRC backed American Honda CBR1000RR with a full time pro employed by
Honda so I consider it a victory not just for me but for the team I was on and
the special construction Ronin EBR1190 radical motorbike they created in only a
matter of a few short months. It was all the more meaningful of a finish since
my friend and road race instructor Carl lost his life two days prior in
practice near the top of the mountain.
Carl’s death led me to say some things to the press about
the lack of communication and shitty organization of the race so the committee
banned me. So the following year I build a Ducati Multistrada for Paul Baleta
to race and worked as his mechanic and coach. It gave me a whole other
perspective of the race and I realized the stress the dangers of the event put
on those close to the competitor. I thought of hanging it up but the
opportunity of a life time came together for me to race a Pikes Peak special
construction Buell XBRR (1340 cc race use only twin cylinder air cooled push
rod beast of an engine making over 100 ft lb of tourqe and 150 plus to the rear
wheel.) Because of the "Moto GP engineered" superficial beauty of the bike and it coming from Spain I was accepted back. The Spanish “Moto GP engineered “ bike looked amazing with it’s hand
painted carbon fiber body and even carbon fiber fork tubes. But it was so
poorly assembled that in the 20 times I tested or practiced on it not once did
it perform without something terribly wrong happening. During the race run the
slipper clutch locked up solid and the lever would not budge. Pulling the lever
was my only fail safe the many times that the throttle bodies would pop off the
manifold causing the beast to rev to the moon. That bike finished 4th
over-all and won me my 2nd class win. It also was the closest to
suicide I have ever been.
My final year on the hill I went back to my 450 and tired to
just have fun but like a sick pervert that had been exposed to some sick
hardcore shit, the thrill was gone and my home built 450 was not enough to
scare the living crap out of me. We finished runner up once again. I knew the
special time was over. If I was king of the universe I would rip all the
pavement out and go back to racing the mountain on dirt, bar to bar like those
first few years I took part. Those were a truly special time in motorcycle
racing that I am sure happy to have been part of. But instead of looking back
it is much more essential to live in the present moment and make some future
awesomeness happen. Onward and upward!
