Temple Canyon Hill Climb

 The homebrew race car finally got on the podium and finished 6th overall vehicle out of 60 entrants. I'm a proud poppa.  I was able to fix all the chain derailment carnage and installed a billet countershaft cover? chain guard and a MX style chain guard on the secondary sprocket. The brakes had gone all to squishy shit again so I tried a new bleeding method involving a third hand cracking the bleeder on the front calipers allowing the balance bar to allow the rear master cylinder to get a more complete throw displacing more fluid every bleed plunge. They pumped up firmer than ever so this tells me that there has been air in the system all along. By the end of the weekend they had gone all to squishy shit again so my fuckery continues...

All Smiles after building this car from the ground up and finally starting to figure out how to drive it.

She is my everything.

The road was in great condition and I was able to feel confidence enough to push the car flat out on the straights and I think my brain and feet are starting to work together better getting me through the corners.

Also I won the motorbike class but I had to work for it and I am building a dyno.

"It is easy to do a lot of little but hard to do a lot with a little." -me half pickled with pbr and old crow...

Part 2- Bonneville 2024 - Sweet salty sweat

 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!

Two big events, One week; Part one

 Lands End Hill Climb- The big one of the year.

It was hot. Me and my daughter had to leave my shop to head up to the race. The Bonneville boys, Jim and Don from Arkansas and Alex from Norway would have to look after themselves, and my shop. I could not miss the Lands End Hill Climb even for the great cause of the world's most powerful two stroke on the world's most big and flat salty tortilla flat speedway. So come Friday me and Nova left the boys at the shop and went to the 3rd oldest motor race in America, only an hour from my shop with race car, race bike, and pre runner bike all loaded up with the trusty van, we were off.

I am the only one of the hill climb racers who shows up solo without any help. I am also the only one who races two different vehicles. So I need not bring up me being the only one changing from bike leathers to race car suite eight times a day. So why not bring my daughter. Just me and her? I figure one can handle anything one says they can. It's worked out for me so far...

In the 100 degree heat we both got tired. The Lands End Pit is my happy place. A special sanctuary of speed.

Top of the world. Or at least the world's largest flat top mountain (mesa) - the Grand Mesa. If you could see through the forest fire smoke you could see our humble home in Mack in the distance.

The Lands End road is one mighty fine road!

If there is anything I love more than being a racer it is being a dad.

We won the motorcycle class for the 8th year in a row. Despite the heat from the young guns. The Hayabusa car derailed the chain and knocked a hole in the case cover but up until then we were shredding and on pace for our first podium. There was glory.

The ride home. For Nova. Only a quick pit stop for me, dropping her off, on my way to Bonneville....

Racecar Roadkill

There is a certian joy in doing as much as possible with as little as possible. There is a point when it becomes redicules and the stomach eats it self. So far I feel both full and fat. Winning I suppose. But I know that one day, puraps tommorow that first trophy I won will sit right next to the last one I have won. If there is anything I have learned in life it is that it doesn't get any easier. Bleeding brakes and making breakfast, keeping a smile on my face and a healthy bill of sale for the organ doners. Every day is a challange and I know that as long as I keep facing up to them than I can keep winning. That is what I call it when I don't give up. Winning. No matter if I am first, last, or in between. The only one who can beat me is me. That said I know that days are numbered but my love of racing is not a love of coming in first. That has just become a side effect. Motivating as it is. It is a load to carry and maybe someday I will dump that load on the side of the road and have some more fun just the same.

The Hayabusa car was great all weekend. Only time I touched a wrench was for a brake balance adjustment. Missed the podium by a couple of seconds and only about 6 seconds of my bike time. The brakes are still an issue but as long as I ratched strapped the pedal down while not in use they worked good enough to keep me from torpedoing of a cliff through the forrest. Yay.

I finally got the old Baja Betty bike out. This bike came back into my hands over a year ago after a 16 year seperation. I have put a lot of work into this thing recently in hopes of having a rejuvenating desert freedom machine. The CR500 hybrid shock needs another re-valve along with the forks. It was great to finally ride it last weekend.

The past few weeks have been a bit mental for me. Sometimes I don't know what to do other than just keep doing what I know how to do. Going to the Monarch hill climb with my daughter was something I don't think I will ever forget. I know I am one lucky Dadda. I did not qualify my bike on pole position for the first time in my ten year history of racing this event but I pulled out the win by a bit over 1 second. Not sure if that means anything at all. I reckon the trophy will end up in a dumpster one day along with my shitty old man underware. The here and now is really where it is at. Bubbles in the brake fluid and all. Pump, bleed, repeat.The big Lands End Hill Climb is in less than two weeks. Captain Ahab Alex flies in form Norway in 8 days. Moped Dick hungers for the salt.... TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO FIND OUT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENS.....

Balance = confidence

 For the past few weeks I’ve been bleeding. Bleeding brains, knuckles, patience, but mostly just bleeding my brakes. Over and over again. The new rotor and caliper were easy enough to fit, not really but they went on in a few nights. But I couldn’t get the air out. More like couldn’t keep air out. I’d get em good and then after a day or a during a test drive they’d go squishy. I found the used sprint car willwood caliper to have loose fittings behind the bleeders so I went and tightened em up until they snapped right the fuck off. So I bought a brand new caliper and it was firm juice for a day so I went and had new brake lines made a couple days ago. All good until again after a day they feel just a bit less firm… wtf! So I keep the pedal ratchet strapped down over night while it sits loaded up on the trailer ready to go racing tomorrow on a mountain side. I hope I have brakes when I need them. 

One week with a Norwegian, two Arkansasians and Moped Dick

 Not long ago, maybe a two months ago, I found myself on a conference call with the lovely people I went to Bonneville with 5 years ago but got rained out and ended up having a really good time non the less. The talk of going back to the salt came up and all were in favor and than the proposition was raised to go this summer... " Why not?" was said. And again; "Why not?" And go....  operation attack of the fastest 50cc, most powerful 2-stoke per displacement commence

What lunching a piston at 16,000 rpm sounds like.

Alex (2StokeStuffing) is not only one of the most interesting minds but.... aw shucks....

Engineer Don. Out front of my shop.

Don, Alex, and Jim doing the Data

Space monkey getting ready to space monkey

Layla disapproves of my work

Out skirts of Mack Colorado is about 70 feet different than the Bonniville 

Lots of Rainer was drank during the late nights.

I think we broke and welded the pipe four times or more. Some furious harmonic sonic

pulse waves are doing the boogie woogie at play. Despite a lot of what some might call failure we kept a positive outlook throughout the week, making up to three trips a day out to the test track 20 minutes away from my shop. We got a few good 75 mph runs, not far off the record, despite never even getting a chance to jet or tune the clutching. I sent the engine home to Norway with Alex so he can do some torture testing on his Dyno. Come August we shall concur!

!!

Care Bear Rage Cage upgrades

 

I hate to admit how many hours I have into this aborted mash of mechanical shift linkage. It reminds me of one of the shits that no matter how many times you wipe your ass it still just shitty!

The cable is going to be much better than all the tubes, bell cranks, and heim links. Also used some old handle bars for a shifter I won't be able to bend when down shifting like a crazed Rat Fink adrenaline junky.

Up grading the rear rotor to a 3/8" thick Paul Bunyan flap jack and a Wilwood sprint car caliper.