What a bloody mixed meeting. I've been torn between setting SMART goals and wanting to go as fast as I can on a 600 Supersport bike. Hoping that fate favours the bold, I packed my kit of psychological pitons, crampons and rope, before heading to the steep learning curve.
Friday Practice
MUST STAY UPRIGHT. Mission accomplished. Only managed four sessions but started to feel confident on the bike and getting some trust in the front end after slippery old Taupo. Was great to see so many there for the test day, and as usual there seemed to be a lot of Supersport riders sharpening their tools.
Saturday Day 1
After sleeping in what felt like a refridgerator overnight, I can confirm for those interested that the light does go off after the door is closed. In a greedy grab for track time I had cross-entered into F1 and the first qualifying was on a very cold track. Self preservation and my SMART goals kicked in to see me do a woeful 2:22 and qualify 33rd (last qualifyer). But I STAYED UPRIGHTand started working on reference points, race lines and other things on the track extension. The long circuit seems so technically challenging to me, with lots of triggers for my survival responses.
Very cool fun to overcome.
F2 qualifying saw a warmer track and a little more aggression. The result was a 2:11 lap time and I STAYED UPRIGHT, qualifying just ahead of Sinful in 26th. Kerry Dukie fettled the springy thing at the back of my bike a little, and I wandered out for The first F1 race. Confidence rising and thinking about where I can grab some of precious half seconds back. However, bad habits like not looking ahead and too many "what if..."s slowed me down. My lap-times were the slowest of everyones 2:14 but thanks to Bryce Meads having problems I finished 27th out of 28.
F2 race 1 saw a bit of carnage on the extension hairpin I think, which I managed to avoid. However, the bike was feeling better and better, I wasn't last, I knew where I could get more speed and my times where down to 2:10. My plans were bearing fruit.
Sunday Day 2
I hope sleeping in a fridge has benefits likes an increased lifespan or even a blunted fear response. It doesn't do much for a good nights sleep. Today was slightly warmer in the morning so I was loking forward to the the first F1 race. I think that I may have got a half decent start so poor old Wharfy got stuck behind me for several laps as I experimented with race-lines inspired by overdubbed kungfu movies from the 70s. That will learn him to get shit starts.I ended up wobbling around at the back practicing some bibs and bobs before peeling off into the pits so Craig and Haydyn wouldn't need to use me for a berm. I swear those guys exert their own gravity at the speeds they go past. Anyway, I was lapping around 2:11.
The F2 10 lapper was where I wanted to push a little harder and I got a respectable start (for me anyway). I think it might have been lap 1 when there was more carnage on the far hairpin but once again I dodged it and got my head down, battling with some of the slower bikes in the field but racing at last. Wharfy ran out of gas and I'm not sure what happened to Sinful but I was working my mongrel butt off trying to hold onto Keelim and Darren (Scuzeme). For the first time on a motorbike, around lap 5 I started getting arm pump, by lap 7 I was begging for the checkered flag and fighting with Mike Pera over 21st place. Despite his bike being a million years old and dismally underpowered compared to mine, he was taking me to school. Right up to when he slowed down for a blue flag when that gorgeous Glenn Skatchill lapped us. I doubly rejoiced as this meant 9 laps instead of 10 and Mike's hesitation let me get past and hold him off until the checkered. Best lap was down to 2:08. Still not on a par with the other Supersport novices, but I finished this race feeling that my day was complete. I'd learned heaps and had that racing buzz. I decided to sit out the next F1 race. Besides, my forearms were still killing and next to useless.
My buzz was dulled by learning that Greg Percival had gone to hospital with a broken collar-bone (unconfirmed), seeing Nicksta layed out on the track and watching the track cooling rapidly while fizzing racers tried to squeeze as much out of it as they could.
My decision to head out in the final F2 race was tentative but decided that I would treat it like a learning exercise and see if I could stay relaxed enough to prevent an arm pump relapse. I got another reasonable start but deliberately hung back from the pack going through turn 2 as it seemed that the amount of aggression was getting out of proportion to the prizemoney at stake. Coming into splash I could see something nasty was happening but managed to squeeze by on the the left...just catching sight of Phil (SVS?)Snowdon's bike out of the corner of my eye. Rolling over along its axis like an R6 of the apocalypse.
Shit shit bugger bugger. "Hope he's alright...just keep your mind on the job". Seeing the red flags out wasn't good news. Short-story, Phil was banged up pretty bad and the meeting was called. I had already decided to call it a day as I didn't want to spoil my report card. I STAYED UPRIGHT and I enjoyed the racing. Having so many crashes with broken bones (4?) was a bummer, but we had a lot of time on the track.
As usual the vollies did an awesome job. I can't thank my sponsors enough. The bike ran faultlessly with a belly of Q8Oil. The Metzelers have peformed outstandingly and I am almost embarassed to say that I have now had the equivalent of 5 days at the track out of the rear. Big thanks to Kerry for the help with suspension and psyche on the day. And many thanks to Steve Bagshaw of MotoAcademy for the help with the big left hander on the extension. That goes for you too Paul. Now if all goes to plan, Crazefox will have a new paintjob to unveil at the next round, and I will getting more smootherer and quicker.
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Originally Posted by Clivoris
What I didn't add was the comment to Steve at the end of the day that at least I know what I should be trying to do through there. It's one hell of a corner, and I have what I would call "aspirational lines" through there.
In my dreams. The only way that's going to happen is if he straps on one of those smoke flare things so he leaves a trail. Maybe I could get him to drop breadcrumbs?
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