Picture this.....
It is a Saturday, the sun is shining, there is a light cooling breeze at your back, your straddled over a motorcycle, it's motor revving purposefully beneath you. Ahead lies some A Grade New Zealand Back road, near 7 kilometers of fast yet winding road in excellent condition climbing it's way up over 1000 meters.
Lying in wait are a team of dedicated race supporters, marshal class ones, all are armed with radios. Their sworn mission is to look after your well being and enhance your enjoyment.
Over in the pits, a dedicated team of organizers are doing everything they can to keep your day running smooth enabling to you get maximum enjoyment. for heavens sake, they even feed you!
How much would one pay to get all of that package deal? Well, Try a positively anemic $30!!!
Welcome to the Cliff Hanger hill climb event.
Don't let the name put you off, this road is as smooth and safe as any other NZ back road, the cliff hanger corner is the slowest and widest corner on the 27 corner run and the natural racing line takes you away from the cliff face, in short if you were actually stupid enough to find a way to crash over the edge, you have just done humanities gene pool a great service.
The starter kicks off the count down, snapping me back into focus, I close my visor and click the bike into gear.
The road is closed, there is no traffic, no police, It is just me, my bike and the hill, without even a rival riding partner to distract me from my mission. It is only a practice day, though they are timing us just to satisfy our own curiosity.
The countdown is getting lower, I close my visor and click the bike into gear.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Go!!!!
I start off at about 5000 revs, feeding the gas to the 998CC Muzzy equipped ZXR superbike, I short shift through the 1st three gears the front wheel just skipping a few inches of the road, the rear tyre is tearing at the stone chip in it's never ending quest for traction, while I'm busy hooking 4th, 5th and finally 6th, the rev counter needle swings it's eager way towards reline, The ram air assisted intake growl combined with the gruff howl from the Akropovic exhaust create a adrenaline rushing symphony of sound.
I leave my braking as late as I dare, my speed in excess of 270 km h, I click it down one gear and prepare to throw her in, at this point, ones concentration is maxed out, everything is seemingly happening at once, all your senses are being assaulted but then from out of the blue..... I have one of those reverse Zen moments. (insert Record scratch sound here)
Reverse Zen is where you are transported outside of time and space, but you get questions instead of answers....
Questions like.... why was I one of only about 15 or so riders smart enough to actually do this event?
How come a dirt bike event can get over 1000 riders to come to Desert Storm and this event, (which I would view as the road riding equal of desert Storm) only sees a storm in a fucking tea cup?
How can we have a bike riding Mayor (no slouch either, i went up behind him on Sundays 1st sighting run) who supports the race to the hilt and a dedicated band of organizers willing to put in sweat and blood and their own money, then add in that OUTSTANDING road to run the event on, but no riders to actually support it???
What the hell is wrong with these apathetic road bike riders. I know they are out there, I've seen the registration figures, do they all just have bikes for fucking pose value at the cafe's? Sell your bikes tossers and hang your heads in shame....leave those bikes in the shop for real riders to buy, You know, the ones that know how to live life.
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Originally Posted by sugilite
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