slowpoke
22nd October 2008, 15:06
Well, after three weeks of nighshift in the Timor Sea the sun on my face feels fan-frikkin'-tastic and the chopper sitting on the helideck awaiting my presence is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life.
In to Darwin and after 2 celebratory beers I'm pretty well shot at the equivalent of 3am (3pm, LOL) and I'm trying to get some sleep at the hotel ready for the 1am red-eye flight to Sydney. Unfortunately I'm excited at the prospect of going home and getting a rare foray to the track in just over a day. Combined with the construction noise next door, sleep is more of a concept than a reality. I'm up before the wake up call and soon enough I'm on my way to Sydney, landing just as the night curfew is lifted at 6am.
I've got a couple of hours in Sydney, time to freshen up with a shower and brekky in the Lounge, looking longingly at the hardcore few pouring themselves a kickstart drink from the bar. I've got to try and stay reasonably sharp to get home and pack up, before heading to Manfeild for the Test Day tomorrow......you lil' belter!
After 1 too many problems with my R1 I've defibrillated my bank manager and bought one of Hayden Fitzgerald's old CBR1000RR's to play with. It's got plenty of stomp but is an angry handful with a too stiff rear shock causing vision blurring mini-slaps on the gas over bumps. I'm also nervous as hell 'cos it's only my 5th race meeting (spread over 3 years) at the ripe (even with deodorant!) old age of 42 and I've decided to play in the Superbike sandpit.....what the fuck have I got myself in to...?
Qantas are determined not to let me get into anything and my flight is delayed 5 hours, getting into Monaco of the South (Wellington) at 8pm, so I miss the last train under the hill to Featherston/Martinborough. Before finding another hotel I bus/trudge into the train station and with bleary eyes and misfiring brain I make confused calculations regarding the Test Day tomorrow. I determine the earliest train and start looking for a hotel, bugger the cost, I've got to get some sleep.
I get a few hours but have to be up to catch the 5:45am train....only to get to the train station and realise my error....it's 5:45 from Masterton not to Masterton....FUCK! Gawd, if all else fails grab a coffee....only there's no where bloody open. Mr Bun at Mr Bun Cafe you are a fuggin' liar, where were you at 6am with your "all day breakfast" huh...huh? I eventually find something open and have a decent brekky and conversation with the nice serving wench. The funniest moment was when she took pity on a homeless dude and gave him some tea and toast. As we were talking about trains and missed flights, the homeless guy pipes up: "Ha, I'd never fly Qantas!" Absolute classic.
So I eventually get home to Martinborough at 11am and proceed to panic in a most undignified manner throwing shit at the car and sometimes in it, pack up bike etc, forget MNZ licence, go back and get MNZ licence and I'm on my way. If I actually stuck to a speed limit somewhere on the way to Manfeild it was accidental 'cos I certainly didn't mean to.
I arrive just in time to do a grand total of 2 sessions at $50 a pop, having to pay the all-day fee. Money well spent though, the first session was a shocker but I managed to find a semblance of smoothness in the second and felt a bit more comfortable on the bike, making the major readjustment of 2 clicks on the steering damper to ease up the front end fidgeting coming on to the front straight. I'm worried about the state of my very secondhand rear tyre too, but luckily TonyOK has come to the rescue with a "new and improved" second handee.
Back to the motel and I'm wired, after the mad panic of the day, it's hard to believe I'm here and racing tomorrow. Coming off nightshift my body isn't interested in sleeping at what has been the middle of the day and it's another fitful battle with my brain trying to get the normally useless thing to switch off. It's like that old car engine with too much ignition advance that just keeps misfiring along on it's own long after you've turned off the key.
I'm up well before the alarm and head to the track only to be greeted by fuckin rain....BASTARD! Somehow the worst of it blows by and actually at the track it doesn't look quite so bad and eventually shapes up good all day.
My first objective is to qualify...I've got no idea what time is required and what times I can do. Right now I've got Lancaster bombers flying around in my guts and I feel well out of my depth. I pit next to Choppa, Johnny Burkhart and Willy which is a good thing: they are good blokes, having a good time, and their enthusiasm rubs off......kinda. They are fast as fuck, I'm not, and there are 40 something entries in Superbike with only 35 going through....
Qualifying rolls around and I head out thinking I'll go out close to the back out of everyones way. I'm suprised to catch a few blokes and actually be held up a little...I did say a little right? Right about now I should have listened to that little voice in my empty head saying "drop back and get a decent run" but I didn't...... I pull in and anxiously wait for the results: 25th out of 35 qualifiers. I am relieved for about 3 seconds until I start thinking about starting amongst that many bikes and the accident last round.
First race I get an absolute shocker, waaaaay tentative and I think I'm dead last coming out of the first corner. Hayden has had a few too many pies and even on minimum preload the rear shock is too stiff (causing those head shakes) and the bike isn't putting the power down as it should. A big "sideways out of the seat" moment coming out of the hairpin tells me to settle down and just be smooth. I take a second off my qualifiying time and finish 20th.
Race two seems to take forever to come and I'm basically feeling the last few days come home to roost: I'm buggered. I sit in my shitty lil' fold up chair in the pits, with the engines howling and PA blaring and feel like I could actually drift off to sleep and very nearly do........COFFEE must have COFFEE! Finally the race comes and after my 95th trot to the toilets I'm ready to go. I more determined at the start but the 'blade bogs a tad and it's another ordinary start. Same story, I pick my way through, finally coming up to Jeff Tichborne. I get past and realise his bloody bike is a ZX12, no wonder I can't make many inroads on the straights! I get to the last lap and get a bit ragged so go into bring it home mode, only for bloody Jeff to pass me on the last sweeper and claim 17th...... Looking at the time sheet I've taken another second off my best time on only the third lap but it's gone downhill from there....fuggit.
All in all it was a weekend of highs and lows but I know there's plenty of improvement to be made with some decent rubber, a new shock spring suitable for my weight but most of all just more time on the track for the bloke flappin' off the bars.
To the Vic Club: you are the pushers supplying our favourite drug and we are very happy addicts, thank you!
In to Darwin and after 2 celebratory beers I'm pretty well shot at the equivalent of 3am (3pm, LOL) and I'm trying to get some sleep at the hotel ready for the 1am red-eye flight to Sydney. Unfortunately I'm excited at the prospect of going home and getting a rare foray to the track in just over a day. Combined with the construction noise next door, sleep is more of a concept than a reality. I'm up before the wake up call and soon enough I'm on my way to Sydney, landing just as the night curfew is lifted at 6am.
I've got a couple of hours in Sydney, time to freshen up with a shower and brekky in the Lounge, looking longingly at the hardcore few pouring themselves a kickstart drink from the bar. I've got to try and stay reasonably sharp to get home and pack up, before heading to Manfeild for the Test Day tomorrow......you lil' belter!
After 1 too many problems with my R1 I've defibrillated my bank manager and bought one of Hayden Fitzgerald's old CBR1000RR's to play with. It's got plenty of stomp but is an angry handful with a too stiff rear shock causing vision blurring mini-slaps on the gas over bumps. I'm also nervous as hell 'cos it's only my 5th race meeting (spread over 3 years) at the ripe (even with deodorant!) old age of 42 and I've decided to play in the Superbike sandpit.....what the fuck have I got myself in to...?
Qantas are determined not to let me get into anything and my flight is delayed 5 hours, getting into Monaco of the South (Wellington) at 8pm, so I miss the last train under the hill to Featherston/Martinborough. Before finding another hotel I bus/trudge into the train station and with bleary eyes and misfiring brain I make confused calculations regarding the Test Day tomorrow. I determine the earliest train and start looking for a hotel, bugger the cost, I've got to get some sleep.
I get a few hours but have to be up to catch the 5:45am train....only to get to the train station and realise my error....it's 5:45 from Masterton not to Masterton....FUCK! Gawd, if all else fails grab a coffee....only there's no where bloody open. Mr Bun at Mr Bun Cafe you are a fuggin' liar, where were you at 6am with your "all day breakfast" huh...huh? I eventually find something open and have a decent brekky and conversation with the nice serving wench. The funniest moment was when she took pity on a homeless dude and gave him some tea and toast. As we were talking about trains and missed flights, the homeless guy pipes up: "Ha, I'd never fly Qantas!" Absolute classic.
So I eventually get home to Martinborough at 11am and proceed to panic in a most undignified manner throwing shit at the car and sometimes in it, pack up bike etc, forget MNZ licence, go back and get MNZ licence and I'm on my way. If I actually stuck to a speed limit somewhere on the way to Manfeild it was accidental 'cos I certainly didn't mean to.
I arrive just in time to do a grand total of 2 sessions at $50 a pop, having to pay the all-day fee. Money well spent though, the first session was a shocker but I managed to find a semblance of smoothness in the second and felt a bit more comfortable on the bike, making the major readjustment of 2 clicks on the steering damper to ease up the front end fidgeting coming on to the front straight. I'm worried about the state of my very secondhand rear tyre too, but luckily TonyOK has come to the rescue with a "new and improved" second handee.
Back to the motel and I'm wired, after the mad panic of the day, it's hard to believe I'm here and racing tomorrow. Coming off nightshift my body isn't interested in sleeping at what has been the middle of the day and it's another fitful battle with my brain trying to get the normally useless thing to switch off. It's like that old car engine with too much ignition advance that just keeps misfiring along on it's own long after you've turned off the key.
I'm up well before the alarm and head to the track only to be greeted by fuckin rain....BASTARD! Somehow the worst of it blows by and actually at the track it doesn't look quite so bad and eventually shapes up good all day.
My first objective is to qualify...I've got no idea what time is required and what times I can do. Right now I've got Lancaster bombers flying around in my guts and I feel well out of my depth. I pit next to Choppa, Johnny Burkhart and Willy which is a good thing: they are good blokes, having a good time, and their enthusiasm rubs off......kinda. They are fast as fuck, I'm not, and there are 40 something entries in Superbike with only 35 going through....
Qualifying rolls around and I head out thinking I'll go out close to the back out of everyones way. I'm suprised to catch a few blokes and actually be held up a little...I did say a little right? Right about now I should have listened to that little voice in my empty head saying "drop back and get a decent run" but I didn't...... I pull in and anxiously wait for the results: 25th out of 35 qualifiers. I am relieved for about 3 seconds until I start thinking about starting amongst that many bikes and the accident last round.
First race I get an absolute shocker, waaaaay tentative and I think I'm dead last coming out of the first corner. Hayden has had a few too many pies and even on minimum preload the rear shock is too stiff (causing those head shakes) and the bike isn't putting the power down as it should. A big "sideways out of the seat" moment coming out of the hairpin tells me to settle down and just be smooth. I take a second off my qualifiying time and finish 20th.
Race two seems to take forever to come and I'm basically feeling the last few days come home to roost: I'm buggered. I sit in my shitty lil' fold up chair in the pits, with the engines howling and PA blaring and feel like I could actually drift off to sleep and very nearly do........COFFEE must have COFFEE! Finally the race comes and after my 95th trot to the toilets I'm ready to go. I more determined at the start but the 'blade bogs a tad and it's another ordinary start. Same story, I pick my way through, finally coming up to Jeff Tichborne. I get past and realise his bloody bike is a ZX12, no wonder I can't make many inroads on the straights! I get to the last lap and get a bit ragged so go into bring it home mode, only for bloody Jeff to pass me on the last sweeper and claim 17th...... Looking at the time sheet I've taken another second off my best time on only the third lap but it's gone downhill from there....fuggit.
All in all it was a weekend of highs and lows but I know there's plenty of improvement to be made with some decent rubber, a new shock spring suitable for my weight but most of all just more time on the track for the bloke flappin' off the bars.
To the Vic Club: you are the pushers supplying our favourite drug and we are very happy addicts, thank you!