I is was and were the juggernaut bitch....
Fresh from the bitter arms of defeat, I rediscovered an old part of me in the weekend. Having done a fairly haphazard job of sewing the teste back on, I began prepping the bike...
Actually, on a minor technicality I got Matt to do it for me.
Ok, so actually actually, we were just repairing a bust wire in the steering head, and checking valve clearances. Riveting stuff that...
With Brother in the cloth Poos coming and taking up valuable bed space in our house, it could have been a foregone conclusion that no general maintenance would be done... (blown fork seal anyone? If you can get it out and put the new one in, you can have it)
A minor miracle occurred on Saturday, when Poos left the building to try and get himself arrested, and my thousand impounded, and I was left to tidy the truck, and sort the bikes. This enabled me to rub my beard thoughtfully, mutter many Hmms and change the gearing down a bit. Also changed the plugs, and air filter, and was confident of at least another 0.00024 horse power at the rear end.
Bikes loaded, and minimal beer consumed, an early night loomed upon me like an elephant backing up with diarrhea.
Unfortunately an early morning awakening or three from my darling daughter also awaited.
On the road, surprisingly awake, after my devastating assault on poos rectum, I mean ears, the drive to toopoo floo by. Pulled up to a nice shiny garage, thanks to Jill and my bank manager. Ahh, the joys of un interrupted power supply Cough cough, Bullshit. Bloody warmers kept popping the breaker, so lot of good that was!!
Race plan was discussed. If we aren't winning, whip a quick handbrakey, and aim for the fabio looking mutha. or anyone else who isn't on a Suzuki. The poor fools.
Practice came, and the ears were awash with the joyous rapture of the TPR anthem.
My highlight of the day... Vicky covering her ears the the pumping tunes of the TPR team soundtrack...
Practice out, and I am on dead cold tyres... Go easy for a few laps, then pick up the pace a little. See Chris doing the same thing, and drop a nice minger past him. Tyres were getting a little second hand after 8 full days on the track. The track was cold, and a little slippy, but not too bad.
Then I discovered a really cool feature on the K6, usually, the slipper clutch only work on the way down the gearbox, but no, suzuki thought of everything, and the mighty gixxer had repaired itself to the level of a 2 way slipper, limits power and revs on the downshift, AND on the upshift.
Quick panic, try and play with clutch and change of front tyre, finally get plugs on shiney new tyrewarmers, cheers Shaun you little hotty, panic phase, get tyrewarmer on front, and then F1 is called up. Luverly.
Clutch is still slipping, and I am trying like mad to get some power down, but can't do it, stuck behind the damn slow in corners thousand, and can't get any power down on the straights. Still, managed to cut someone up something chronic on the back corner, turn 8, pass them on the grass and hold the spot.
Pretty stoked with that, apparently the testicle implant is beginning to work again. Whatever happened to my old days of T boning people in my anxiousness to get past them?
Back in, and straight back to the clutch again. Adjust, fart around, and no time to test it, as F2 race has been called up. Poos - "Got gas?" Me - "Yeah, sweet as"
Warmup lap complete, I get to the dummy grid, and notice the light flashing.... Bugger. Apparently there is 4 litres in reserve anyway, and the race should only use about 2.5 to 3.5. The start. Abysmal. Great on the gas, clutch slip all but gone, but the teste implant must have been crushed landing the wheelie past Chris. I chicken out of two easy rows, and get around in time to get past the carnage of turn three.
Bloody Jill and Bret tangoing in the dirt. Silly buggers..
Back into pits, for the obligatory red flag, and fill up with gas. Tyre warmers just on, and then the call up comes, straight back off again, and out.
Start is a bit better, arriving at turn 1 just in time to see jimmy go a skittling, avoid the mess, on the white line, arse end steps out 3 times in the one corner. Oh, brand new unscrubbed rear tyre... Rain, wet, glassy surface, slippery as a banana coated in gavs manjuice. Kyle crashed out, and I thought to myself, this is crazy, story goes race leaders can signal if they think conditions are unsafe, and then a delayed restart can happen. But Glen and Jay in front of me were too happy to take championship points, happy enough that I was far enough back not to take them out in crazy passing manoeuvres. Soo, In the call for safety rather than insanity, I was alone, and Gav took the chance to whip past, nearly highsiding on the white line, I lost all desire to go fast and race, simply wanting to bring it all home unscathed. It was the worst conditions I have ever ridden in, in terms of grip, and I have ridden on IRCs in snow at minus 4 on the desert road. Definitly oil seeping up, but not quite the volume of water to push it away. Wets would have been useless too.
A couple of cheeky darkies slip past me, Chris and Jason, and Nick Cole, then I retake Jason. Under a yellow... Sorry bro, didn't see it till after the fact.
Finish the race in one piece, and go marching off to try and find the truth about the unsafe track conditions. Still unanswered.
Was mulling over whether to risk it all again in F1, thinking wets would be an expensive endeavor, with little perceivable benefit.
Watched race after race, and restart after restart. Oh, and crash after crash. Poor buggers.
Full credit to Nicksta for being able to stop middle of the hairpin when someone crashed in front of her, VFRs must have awesome brakes... (or hondas don't go so fast to start with!! LOL)
Then eventually they called it a day. Wise, although maybe a wait might have been in order.
Me an Poos stayed for a while, trying to scab some wheelie sessions on the now disused, and dry front track.
I really got to work on those standups you see.
Didn't happen, so we buggered off to Gavs Mums place (woohoo, go Gavs Mum!!), and I did my best impersonation of a whale dropped from a helicopter at 8000 feet onto Jills sore knee. Sorry deary, you knows how forgetful us ADD boys are!! No intent to hurt at all!!
Had a lovely dinner, then went home, unpacked went to sleep with my beautiful wife.
I'm a lucky man.
Boyd hh er Suzuki are my heroes!
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Originally Posted by Dean
, I too kinda have a curvy figure which makes it worse beacuse im a guy. Well the waist kinda goes in and the bum pushes out. When I was in college the girls in my year would slap me on the arse and squeeze because apparently it is firm, tight...
I wear jeans
Much as i'm sure you have, I really don't want to know.
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