I think the last time I went to the salt flats was 15 years ago. I should go back on this blog and look. What a diarrhea diary of not dyeing this blog is. A real record of what a life spent trying not to waste a life is put into words and pictures the best I can. Shit in this day and age of documenting shit I don't understand why I feel the need to keep posting up on here but I do. It is the only place that for whatever reason I feel like I can belch without saying "excuse me". I do feel good letting it out, as un-pretty or un-punctuated as it may be. Anyhoo where was I... somewhere in the smoldering desert between the Land's End Hill Climb and Bonneville, driving my van through the hot night trying not to fall asleep at the wheel. I finally pulled over in the middle of Utah for some sleep in the back of my motorcycle-less hauling van. I could not remember the capsule without a bike inside but regardless I slept hard and woke to my early 5am morning alarm blaring leaving me thinking that I had but just gone to sleep only minutes before. As I took a piss in the dark Utah desert I saw a couple of bright meteorites shoot across the sky. Epic. I fired up a pot of coffee on my camp stove on the passenger seat as I tried to beat the rise of the sun out to the salt flats. I arrived just in time to drive out on to the vast expanse of white only to find the 2 Stoke Stuffing boys just as confused and excited as I was to find a place to call a pit set up for the next 5 days. Pure holy ground the salt flats are. Nobody there that does not belong. Unlike many racing events where money and ego sometimes seem the norm. Bonneville is a place for only the true dedicated fucking weirdos. It felt good to be back and almost shameful that it had been so long. We had a few hurtles to hop getting through tech inspection but nothing much a hacksaw and safety wire didn't amend. Our eagerness to finally after five years of waiting to make a run on the salt was met by a 5 hour line the start of the course. Welcome to SCTA Speed week. We waited and waited and waited in the heat and with less than 5 vehicles in line front of us they closed down for the day. Back to the KOA campground. The hot desert heat while sleeping in the back of my van was pretty rough. To make it worse I awoke with what I thought was a head cold. Two weeks later as I write this I now know it is the dreaded fucking covid, my 3rd bout with the strange and evil and mysterious and might I add fucking complete shit SHIT. My teeth are aching, my brain is fuzzy and I have no remedy. Don't get me started but the past 3 years have not been easy on me. ANYHOO, we finally got a run in on Moped Dick and were about 2000 rpms short of the peak power rpm and 16 mph off the record. It was hot and adjusted temp/humidity/altitude had us jetting for about 8000 ft. Another long wait in line only to not make it before course closing time. It was sofa king hot waiting in line but we were stoked just to be there. The next morning we had another good run with our smallest main jet, meonly 6mph short of the record but still too rich to reach peak power rpm so we did the only thing any sane thinking nut job would do; We switched to our NITRO/ METHONAL set up. No need of not having lean enough jets for this fuel and still running the same open fuel class for the record. Then the problems came. Everything from clogged fuel tank cap vent, to a stuck shut fuel solenoid, and then a shredded carbon fiber intake rotor valve. No spare. I thought that was it but Alex was not throwing in the towel. He had come around the world with his bike and been waiting 5 years so he built another valve out of a saw blade with a dermal tool on a KOA campground picknick table. A shitty picknick table. He even used our beer box for a gasket. And the thing ran like a scalded rapped ape! It absolutely sounded amazing on our make shift redneck pit dyno. But on the race run it could not keep together. A 30 horse power 50cc engine can be hard on parts. The next day I was really expecting glory when I left the start line. The thing actually spun out and got sideways on me. And then seized. Nitro meth has a steep learning curve. Or at least that is what people kept saying. We had one more day and we were all ready to go on the line. I wacked revved a few times to clean it out before taking off. 15000 rpm, 16000 rpm, I prepared to get in the saddle, the belly saddle and Moped Dick wouldn't rev. It was done. Speed week was done... Until next year!
