Get off the couch and ride. The long spell since the last time I raced motocross has been a long one. Some vintage mx once or twice in the previous few years but the gate drops at Glen Helen were full and intense. I saw bodies slammed, hurled and ground into the decomposed granite like dog shit on the sole of a commando boot. And one of those bodies was mine. Two classes in three days of three moto format was tough but not as tough as the off camber square edge bumps. The random mogul whoops. The ledges in the landings and worst of all the holes right before the lips. I loved it in morning practice but by noon the 1200 entries had the pristine moist loam turned into a mine field of wrist popping back breaking neck whipping agony. It was great and I had a lot of fun. I had originally signed up for 40+ and the 125cc class but I was not able to come up with a 125 bike so I thought about switching to the 40 pro class but then in practice Mike Brown made me his bitch and honestly the track scared the shit out of me so I opted to race 35+ Expert and 40+ Expert. In the first 35+ moto I did good with a 7th out of a full gate but I was completely pumped up, wrung out, and broken. The track required someone of my physical condition some restraint. I settled into a more subdued rhythm in the first 40+ moto with a 10th. Then next 35+ moto found me in the first lap a bit too hard on the front brake while blitzing down the steep Mount St Glen Helen hill while the rear wheel hit a kicker of a breaker bump. I went over the bars quick and hit the ground hard with no time to prepare. I think my 2006 CRF450 landed on my elbow and knocked the wind out of me. I cruised around for a lap and went back to the van to knock the sand out of my helmet and straighten my bike up. Before the blood and sweat dried from my face and nostrils I lined back up for the 40+ and took another 10th from a full gate. I slept like a lamb with a bag of ice on my swell-bow that night. I awoke Sunday morning, I wolfed down cold mexican leftovers from a Styrofoam, had two cups of motel room coffee and strapped on my cold wet dog smelling helmet. I ended up 12th in 35+Expert with 7,20,11 motos and 8th in 40+Expert with 10,10,8 motos. Not bad for a 19 year old bike I plucked out of the trash bins and an old fart who remembers getting holeshots and having a head of hair to pomade up. The best part was riding in a van with Mick. Something we haven't done together in many moons. Our friend Jason aka: Pussy Feet, who talked us into this race blew up his KX500 in his first moto but he shook it off and had fun anyway keeping us in good cheer. The Lambrick Bros who helped me at the flattrack AM Nats last year kicked us some gas money and tagged along in spirit so I reckon the older I get the more I enjoy some comradery despite being the lone desperado I have played for so many years. No trophies were won at this race but a lot of heart was felt.
747
RACING IS LIFE
Tuesday, November 5, 2024
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Pikes Peak Hill Climb 2001 - Gary Lee Kanawyer / 1981 Wells Coyote Overa...
Friday, October 18, 2024
Keeping busy
Thursday, October 17, 2024
風を抜け! / Kaze wo Nuke! (1988) / MADHOUSE / Laserdisc / MJL-1032 / Domesda...
Monday, October 7, 2024
From Ok to LA
Peekaboo |
Simone should have used the kill switch long before this |
JB weld? |
I started putting the chassis together last weekend and it sure is nice being a Honda bolt horder. The engine was a bit more challenging and I started building it a few months ago after being talked into this whole brilliant idea of racing the fastest motocrosser with grey whiskers in California. What I thought was a good bottom end with just a stuck crank turned out to be an exploded connecting rod that managed to torpedo through the transmission and all. So I found some 07 cases for cheap and pieced together the rest from my milk crates, coffee cans, and rubber made tubs.
I have a couple weeks left before Mick and I go pillage the west coast like the crazed coloradian hill Billy scary van punks we are!
Thursday, October 3, 2024
2024 Hill Climbs Wrapped Up
Two days after getting home from the Hill Climb at PPIR last weekend it was decided to cancel the final round. Something about lack of interest. Come next April I bet those lacking interest now would chop off a toe to get an extra race in. But that does mean that the season is wrapped up. I met my goal getting the Motorcycle class championship. The Homebrew car finished out the season strong to give me hope for next season. Will I be able to hang up my leathers and focus on the car? I don't know... probably not :)
Wednesday, September 25, 2024
Wake me up when September ends
Sunday, September 8, 2024
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...
Sunday, August 18, 2024
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!