Shane - Superlite (#43)

Vic Club, Round 4, The Return of the Novel (Hear Frenchy Sigh)

I decided ages back that seeing as I'd gotten my hands on a very cheap race bike I'd have a stab at this racing lark and chose Round 4 to be the meeting at which I popped the cherry.

The lead up to Round 4 was going to be busy as there was lots to do, but I had a plan and it was all under control. Right up until I got knocked on my arse by one of the nasty flu bugs that've been going around. All of a sudden my freshly painted fairings were not on the bike, nor had the stickers applied. The bike still had oil all over the back of the engine (the duct that lets the dead cylinder breath came off and the piston pumped oil all over the underside of the airbox and back of the engine), the sprockets were still unchanged, the tyres were still not changed, I still hadn't been to the bike store to pick up the crap from there .... the list was long.

So, Wednesday, having gone to work but then leaving early because I was about to fall over and throw up (oh and I forgot my door key so I got home, couldn't get in, sat down and died for a while, returned to work, pick up my key and trundled slowly home again) I got my head down for 3 hours and felt significantly better. Not well enough to drive to where my bike is stored and work on it, but well enough to wrap up in lots of clothes and carefully apply the stickers that MSTRS had made up for me (cut vinyl stickers are definitely the way to go over printed for a professionally presented bike). This took over 3 hours but when I was done I'd only messed up 1 so bad I had to bin it (a very difficult one to apply and it was only there for decoration anyway), but the fairings looked surprisingly good. I wasn't surprised by the quality of the paint job (my uncle was an automotive painter until he retired 3 months previously) but by the combination of the paint (just plain white with a drop of yellow and drop of black tinters) and stickers. It looked like a $1000 job rather than the $270 it cost for the paint and stickers.

I'd talked to Steve a couple of nights earlier and the plan was that he would pick me up from work at 12:30pm and we'd go pick up my bike and all my gear then hit the road. But seeing as I had lost so much time I spent the entire morning sorting last minute crap out. Like my credit/eftpos card. Apparently the credit card company said it had been delivered to the correct branch and had been signed for. But the lovely Tanya pointed out to them that a) the card had not been delivered and b) there wasn't anyone with the initials DC at that branch so therefore the person who signed for the card didn't work there. What a cock up. But it did mean I had to head away for the race weekend without access to funds if I needed more than I had in my wallet.

Next stop was the bike shop to pick up the fairing fastners and the breath mask. They were very sorry but the breath mask still hadn't come in even though the supplier had promised it would be there 3 days ago.

Brush it off. Onwards and upwards.

I fitted the fairings and started sorting out all the stuff I'd need to take. I didn't have time to wash the oil off the back of the engine (I'd have to waterproof stuff etc before putting the degreaser everywhere, letting it sit then washing it off and repeating) but I definitely had to sort that duct out so it wouldn't throw anymore oil around the place. A surprisingly difficult task given that it only needed a sleeve inside the duct so it wouldn't collapse when the clip was done up. After much swearing I was able to chop a plastic plumbing adapter to do the job.

Having hooked everything up I put some petrol in the tank I fired her up. I was relieved to see that she ran quite happily.

The bike shop rang to say the breath mask had turned up. ffs.

Steve messaged me so I cleaned things up and headed to work to drop the car off to the wife (she works 300m from me). Picked up some supplies, dropped the car off, wandered over and got a couple of coffees then texted Steve his was getting cold so hurry up. After packing up the bike and gear we hit the road.

There's something about travelling with Stevie and dodgy vehicles. On some of the large hills close to Feilding the temperature gauge kept climbing. The mechanic that did the warrant of fitness hadn't replaced the radiator cap. After driving the thing, I wondered how much he got paid to ignore the brakes. They were terrible.

We hit the Feilding supermarket for supplies then cruised to the motel and chilled out. It's truely amazing how shit tv is.

Friday was the test day. It dawned grey but dry and I was hoping it would stay that way for the entire weekend (yeah right).

We set up in the stalls right next to Glen Williams and I went about my business the same as I always do, chillaxed and not stressing. Steve on the other hand was busily trying to rush me out onto the track, but I've found that's a good recipe for crashing. Not being prepared and stressing out is not a good way to ride.

First session I just got reacquainted with the short track. It was strange because I could swear heading towards turn 1 and Higgins was like riding straight at a brick wall in the past, but it wasn't anywhere near as steeply banked as I remember. I know the track has changed a bit, but I guess my memory is somewhat crap.

My times were as slow as you'd think they would be for the 1st laps in 3-4 years, the fastest being a 1:38. Steve had plenty of advice and I listened, took it all in, then sat on my arse and thought about it all.

The second session came down to 1:28, good progress and lots more advice.

The third session came down to a 1:25. The track people then called lunch so we shot off to get something to munch on. That was a mistake.

When we got back I'd missed a complete session so the lunch break must've been all of 10 minutes as we were only gone for 30 minutes.

Mumbles turned up and those 2 buggered around for a while before they pissed off to the pub for a beer. Bastards.

I was still feeling a bit under par from lunch so I talked Glen Williams into going out for a scoot on the old girl. Besides the pegs/levers etc being all wrong for him he didn't find anything that could be a problem other than the gearbox ratio's. She's a tad soft for his liking and a fraction low in the arse but he said it felt well balanced, didn't have any bad habits and had plenty of potential. It has an unusually linear and broad torque curve and isn't anywhere near as peaky as he expected. I suspect there's power to be gained by trading mid range for top end.

By the time I was ready for another session the bastards had returned from the pub. Lunch was still messing with me and I was wanting to have a snooze instead of riding, and it showed. Fastest of 1:30 and I was all over the place and cramping up.

The test day was well worth it though. I've only ridden 2 days in the last 4 months so you could say I was rusty. Not to mention the fact that I've had a very limited amount of time on the bike and hadn't ridden Manfeild for over 3 years so it was all excellent time in the saddle.

I smelt rather bad so we headed back to the motel so I could take a shower. We then rounded up scuseme, wharfy, Frenchy and Nicki and had a surprisingly nice dinner at the pub.

Despite what was going on in my head (night before nerves) and the amount of coughing I was doing I actually managed to get some decent sleep. When I woke up I felt pretty much as I do any other morning, ie don't want to get out of bed. But I wasn't feeling tired or crap at all so I was pleasently surprised. Breakfast consisted of toast with marge on it and a coffee. I didn't want anything heavy to eat so that was it for me, an unusually light breakfast.

We got to the track to find that Paul had arrived and was set up. I'd got his number from Deano the night before and texted him, asking if I could leave my bike in his shed overnight then take him up on the offer to share it for the day. Unfortunately his phone had been playing up and he'd gotten a 2 degrees phone so I have no idea who got the text I'd sent him. It was cool though so I whipped out the wallet and gave him some cash. Unfortunately, that was the last of the cash I'd brought with me so I didn't have any left get my tyres changed over to wets. Steve, Paul's sponsor, whipped $40 out of Paul's wallet and gave it back to me so I could get the tyres changed. Lucky I'm good for it!!

I signed in (quite an adventure for the 1st time) after trying to figure out what I'm meant to write down out of my helmet. I put my transponder on and started pulling the wheels off to get the tyres changed over. I hate rushing and doing this sort of thing is something I don't like doing cos I need to have my mind on riding, not farken around with mechanical crap. However, I took my time and did things methodically and smoothly and there wasn't any problems.

I got into my riding gear and waited until the practice session rolled around. Nicki said she'd show me around the long track so I wobbled out behind her and let her have a little bit of a gap so that I could see where she was turning and what sort of lines she was using. After the first lap I let her go and concentrated on figuring out lines and braking markers. This was the 1st time I'd ridden on wets so I was nervous as hell cos I had no idea what they were like. Glen had told me the day before that with the wets on you have just as much grip as in the dry, but you have to be smoother into and out of the corners than in the dry. I was fully prepared to believe that advice, just not on the first 2-3 laps. It takes quite a lot of faith to overcome 20+ years of lessons learnt on the road in the rain and for the practice I wanted to just wobble around and figure out where the track went so I didn't end up in a wall.

Doing 20 laps of practice would've been good, but we only got 3 so the flag came out way, way too early for my liking.

Seems my wobbling qualified me 15th for F3 in grid position #25. I couldn't believe there were people who qualified slower than me!!

I chilled out and wandered around a little, watching some racing and talking etc. Got a bit more advice from Nicki on where she brakes etc, watched Stevie ride like a vagina (a slack one instead of a sandy one for a change). As it got closer to my race I grabbed my earplugs, relaxed in my chair and closed my eyes for a few minutes kip. Steve and a couple of others couldn't believe it and kept telling me to amp up, get psyched and put my game face on. But my "A" game starts with chill, chill, chill .....

Second call and I'm pulling my gear on, starting the bike and rolling out onto the dummy grid. It's a big field for F3, second only to Posties so there's lots of bikes around me. We roll out through pit lane and onto the track and the atmosphere feels quite different with so many highly focussed individuals around me. I use the warm up lap to spot where the slightly drier line is through most corners, making mental notes all the way. We rolled up to the grid and not surprisingly it looked completely different to what I saw leaning over the pit wall. More by luck than design I found my assigned position and sat there trying to stay calm. I'd watched the start grid marshalls carefully and knew that there was nothing to do until they cleared the back of the grid. Once the marshalls went past me I grabbed a gear brought the revs up a little wee bit (not much just enough so there's no buggering around when I open the throttle) and wait for the 1st red light. The lights come up, I lift revs more, hear all those engines do the same, count the lights, wait until they go out ... and launch!!! At least I thought I did. I was under the impression the Triumph had 6 forward gears but I'd managed to find reverse. Everyone, and I mean everyone got away far better than I did. Even the damn 125GP bikes with their mega-high 1st gears came firing past me from the back of the grid. First corner and I'm dead last.

What.

The.

Fark.

I knew the clutch in this bike isn't the friendliest and it doesn't have the greatest feel in the world, but what I hadn't taken into account is that I can't hear the engine because of all the others around me. These things combined with not having done a seriously hard launch for a long time made for the worst start in the history of bad starts.

Oh well I just have to put that behind me and get on with doing the job. First turn a couple of the others are very tentative so I go around one and inside another and start feeding her the right hand. I'm tempted to take a tight line into Splash and block pass another guy but I decide against it as I'm likely to T bone someone doing that so at this stage so I ease off and fall in behind. Turn 4 I'm lined up outside the dude ready to shoot up the inside at the hairpin and manage to get at least two people at the same time, probably more cos they all seem to be crowding each other for the high line. I hold it tight on entry, park it on the apex, pull her tight on the exit and gas it. Nobody comes shooting past me so I'm thinking it was a success and note that one for future reference. Heading for Higgins I gain on a ZXR400 but don't get close enough to pass under brakes. For some reason he takes a tighter entry line whereas I'm taking my usual, wide entry for a tight exit. The gap appears on the inside so I power away on the line I usually take (the one I was told repeatedly to stick to or crash) so that pass was almost a non-event. I then come up behind a black NSR and because this is my 1st lap of my 1st ever race and we're approaching the previously unknown (to me) extension I take the cautious approach, which promptly turns out to be a mistake. I should've just bombed around the outside of him but I still didn't quite believe the "just as much grip as in the dry" thing and paid for it cos someone behind us came flying past. He must've been someone quite a bit faster that got caught up and lost places at the hairpin cos he wasn't sticking around to sign autographs.

Despite this display of "just do it it'll stick" I stayed with the cautious approach and had to stay behind the dude until the exit of the last turn where he'd used a tighter line and ran wide. I powered past him and lined up the ZXR400 ahead, taking him near the end of the straight. He didn't seem to like that and retook the spot under brakes, only to go a fraction too deep and leave a small gap on the inside. I stuffed the old girl in there and levered myself some room. With him behind me I could settle into the lines I wanted and concentrate on going quicker.

By the right hand hairpin on the extension I'd caught the next person so I took a straight line into the turn, parked it on the apex, pulled her tight on the exit and gassed it. Unfortunately I wasn't quite able to get past him and it meant he had the inside for the big left hand sweeper so I had to wait until after the nasty bump and then eased up the outside of him, squeezing him in just a little to upset his line and make sure he couldn't try to stay on the inside of me. We didn't touch but I swear I was millimeters away from actually leaning on him.

I put a bit of a gap into him and then couldn't see all that much ahead. There was a Motard a fair distance away so I thought I'd just maintain a quick-ish pace and see if I could catch him but I was fully prepared to ease back and just bring it on home if I couldn't. With the white flag out it looked like I'd definitely be able to catch him so I started trying to figure out where I could get him. He was faster out of corners than I was, being an Aprilia 690, but I soon gained after that so it looked like it'd be the exit of the last turn and hope there's enough straight before the finish line. I went high and wide, he held a slightly tighter line. On the exit I pointed her up the inside and gassed it but he had the grunt to just stay ahead. I don't think he knew I was there because he pulled it tight through the kink onto the straight and I breezed past his back tyre and up the outside but lost out by half a bike length at the line. Bugger.

I almost had him, another 50m's or so and I would've passed him. Oh well, that's the way it goes. But on the plus side, I'D FINISHED MY FIRST EVER RACE!!

Scorecard:
Races : 1
Won : 0
Crashed : 0
Placed : 15th (qualified 15th)


The timing sheets say that I finished in 15th position in F3 with a best lap of 2:27.991. Not bad for my 1st race ever, the 1st time I'd ridden the long track, the 1st time I've ridden on wets and the 1st time my bike has raced as a 450. I finished the race, didn't embarass myself and had a good time too. I nailed the things I wanted to and it was only that incredibly shit start of mine that ruined what would've been a perfect 1st ever race.

Lots more chilling out, wandering around, talking, making sure to drink plenty and eat a meusli bar and banana, the usual. My wifes god father, Paul stopped in to say hi. His nephew, Jason Dawes also rides in F3 so he was keen to watch both of us and was just thrilled that I was out there at all. Paul raced for many, many years and he finally gave up at the age of 69. I'd love to still be racing at that age.

I start to establish myself a routine for before races so I pop in the earplugs, relax in my chair and close my eyes for a while. Just let everybody and everything happen around me, calm my breathing, bring my heart rate back down a bit and calm my thoughts. After a while I get my gear on and make sure the only thing left to do is pull on my gloves and helmet and start the bike up. I stay relaxed and see the white flag is out so there's 5 minutes to go. Chequered flag is out so I wait for the call up to the dummy grid. It takes longer than expected so I guess somebody had crashed (those crazy Street Stockers) but we get called up so Paul and I roll out to the dummy grid.

The warm up lap is same as before, just a quiet trundle around to the grid. I find the correct mark again, kick her into neutral and wait. Marshalls move through the grid, into gear, bring the revs up watch for the lights, lights are on, lots of revs, lights are out and we're off again!!!

This time my start isn't as shit as the first one, but not by much. I still go backwards and the bloody 125GP's still blast past me off the line. I'm really going to have to work on getting this bike off the line dammit.

First turn I'm not last but I'm not far off it so I start picking off bikes again. As with the first race I take a couple in the 1st corner, line up for a pass on the inside of splash, again I think better of it and back off, again I hug the white line into the hairpin to put more than 2 people behind me again and nobody comes bombing past me on the straight. Run it quicker into Higgins and gas it letting her run a fraction wide so I don't ram the guy in front, cross behind him and ease up the outside around the left hander onto the extension, sit behind the next bike until the extensions hairpin where I straight line it again, pull it tight on the exit and gas it as the dude runs quite a long way wide and we're into the long left again.

This race is longer so I pace myself. A couple of laps later and another couple of successful passes I can see the green KR1 ahead of me and like the 1st race decide to hold a quick pace to see if I can catch him. It's easier than I thought, probably because it's now raining and he's likely on dot tyres.

A while later I'm going through splash and I hear this engine noise and think "wtf?". Next thing I know I get mugged by Scott Moir out of turn 4, followed by Geoff Booth and Rob Berrington-Smith then there's nobody until I'm back around onto the start/finish straight to see the last lap flag where Paul Duncan goes flying past me into turn 1 and around the outside of Zane Brookes. A couple of corners later Deano passes me and on the run down to Higgins a bloody 125GP comes past me. I'm just about to hit the brakes for Higgins when I look up and see Kyle Hammond bouncing off the edge of Higgins as his bike digs into the grass and does a flip. Last lap isn't a great time to crash.

It's definitely raining now so I ease up a little as I don't want to repeat Kyles little misfortune and crash on the last few corners. I literally tip toe across the finish line and am greatly relieved that I've finished the day with the bike in 1 piece and nothing to be embarassed about (except those stinking fricken starts).

Pulling into the pits I ride straight past the people taking the transponders off and tell Stevie to do it while I get changed. However, that's about as useful as asking a blind man to describe a porno and I end up having to do it myself once I figure out that he's just taken the transponder off but not cut the bracket off.

Scorecard:
Races : 2
Won : 0
Crashed : 0
Placed : 12th (qualified 15th)

I had a fun time and learnt craploads that I'd forgotten about riding a bike. My bike isn't a lemon but it needs a trip to Dr Robert and lots of development before I can produce some decent lap times.

Thanks to lots of people for helping to get me to my first race:

• me for putting up with Stevie for 3 days
• Stevie for putting up with me
• Nicki for showing me where things are on the long track
• Paul Duncan for sharing his pit shed with me
• Clive, Kari and the rest of the Vic Club people for putting on a great event
• Brent for engine work and bike building
• Andrew for fabrication
• Phil for electrical/battery
• John for the stickers/logos
• Uncle Bubby for the paint
• Claire and Jeffrey for storage
• Stefan @ DL Consulting
• Bruce and Doesjka @ Layer X