April 19-10 WERA West

Last weekend was the first WERA West round of the 2005 season, and my first race weekend of the year. Unlike miss B, I hadn’t been in a race since October, and had only had two trackdays prior to the Saturday Fastrack day that serves as WERA West practice. Additionally, I was on a new bike, new tires and stepping up to the most competitive classes available to club racers. There are lots of good club racers that run around at the back of these fields, and if that’s what I wanted to do, no biggie. But I have this notion that I can run with these guys, and the internal pressure to start a foundation that will allow me to prove that had been building during the off-season. Normally, I don’t get too stressed during race weekends, and can turn on my race face at will, but last weekend­–sheesh–I was feeling the pressure from the very beginning.

Thursday we loaded up the van and started the pilgrimage to Vegas at 5:08pm; great planning as always. Stuck in traffic, I had plenty of time to think about the task ahead of me. The A Superstock class is where all the fast racers looking for manufacturer’s contingency on open bikes go to party, and F1 is the premier class WERA has with same cast of characters plus a few wunderkinds on 600s or 750s. The top five in these classes are privateers that can finish mid-pack at an AMA event and are the real deal. So while the pool isn’t as deep as it gets under the 30 meter platform of national competition, you definitely can’t touch the bottom anymore. With that playing in my head for five hours, we arrived at our friend Jack Pfeifer’s place in Las Vegas at around 10:30. Jack was kind enough to offer us the use of his motorhome, since he lives about 20 minutes from the track and wouldn’t be staying in it over the weekend. Always looking for a way to save some dough, we took him up on it.

Saturday was going to be tough no matter how you looked at it. I had never run that track before, and was only going to get six or seven twenty minute sessions to learn it before racing started. Coming off the track after the first session, I smelled oil and notice a puff of smoke carried away by the high winds. Once the bike was on the stand I could see oil all over the right side of the bike, from the tank down and back to the swingarm. It was smoking off the headers, and I was smoking as well. I ripped of my helmet, did a little tantrum dance, and began to take apart the bike to locate the leak. After taking the seat off, the tank up and the airbox off, it was obvious what had happened. Before the race, a friend installed a manual cam-chain tensioner and forgot one of the washers that go under the valve cover fasteners. Unfortunately, these aren’t things that wear out, so no one had one at the track.

I discovered this after running around the pits begging, and could feel the day slipping away. Jack came to my rescue by offering to drive home, where he had a total gasket kit that included the offending washer. We drove there, Britt cleaned all the oil off while we were gone, and we installed the little thing upon our return. Problem solved. Of course, this took two hours, and now I’d wasted the whole morning. Guess how my stress level was at that point.

I spent the rest of the day learning the track and trying to come up to speed. There were a few fast guys that were definitely much faster, but I was surprised that I began to reel in quite a few of the racers I knew I’d be racing against as the day wore on. As the track knowledge mounted, I could tell my setup needed work, and finally got around to checking my sag numbers. It was clear I needed a heaver rear spring, but didn’t have one. Jack helped again by offering to loan me one, and while it wasn’t quite enough, it was better than what I had.

During the last session, my left clip-on lost a bolt and came loose in my hand after a power wheelie out of turn two, creating a little extra excitement. I lost a few minutes coming in, finding a bolt, and tightening the thing down again. The day ended with me getting a new set of Bridgestone DOTs mounted and an extra rear slick to try. That evening we went to eat with Jack, and his friends and sponsors Vince, David and Eric and had a good time at a barbecue joint near the track. We knew the food would be good when we notice the amount of “well padded” people all around us.

Sunday morning there were two practice rotations and then the lunch break, followed by racing. As this was the first time I’d raced either of these classes, and because I’d post-entered (don’t ask), I was gridded dead last in A Superstock, and on the last row in F1. These are 8 lap races on a tight (4^th gear max) course, so starting on the last row is quite a penalty. I tried not to obsess about all of it, but still found it difficult to eat and ended up bouncing around nervously once practice was done.

Once suited up, on the bike and rolling through the track entrance for the sight-in lap, all the butterflies and nervousness went away and I felt calm, if not exactly ready. Sitting on the grid waiting for the green flag I pondered the “lotta revs or little revs” conundrum, as I hadn’t the time to practice starts before, and succeeded in botching the drive pretty nicely, thank you. It hardly mattered anyway, as the first turn is close enough to the start line that everyone is a superhero. I tried to pass a couple of people as they set up for the corner and got in the marbles and felt the front end begin to push. I straightened up and took the escape road and knew the race was done, as I had a quarter mile of track before I could rejoin the field. As I took to the track again, last place was a speck in the distance and I was kicking myself for such a bonehead move when the red flags came out for a bike in the track, rider ok.

Now I never root for red flags, as usually someone is injured, but this one was a nice bonus. We regridded and I made sure to get a better star. It wasn’t much prettier, but I made the corner in almost last place, far better than a half a lap down. I took off passing people like crazy, and got caught in 10^th place for a while behind a clot of three guys. Las Vegas Classic Course is very tight and narrow, so there aren’t a ton of great places to pass. It took about four laps to go from the back to passing those three guys, and to be honest I don’t remember where the passes even were. It’s all a blur of spinning tires and wheelies and the back end dancing around under braking. At some point I was in seventh place and started reeling in sixth. The rider in sixth was a ways up the road, and I ended up a couple of bike lengths behind on the last lap, but the rear tire was done and I settled for seventh, crossing the line right behind sixth place. I came off the track tired and dry mouthed, but happy. It seemed like a good start.

I had a lot of time before the F1 race, so I gassed up the bike, changed the rear tire to the slick, and helped Peanut. You can read her report for the juicy details, but she had a challenging weekend and wasn’t that pleased with her result. By the time my second race rolled around I was feeling pretty lousy. The combo of wind, heat and nerves had my stomach on edge. For about fifteen minutes before the F1 race, I had visions of puking in my helmet on the starting grid. Even though it was warm and dry, I knew the whole thing was just nerves playing havoc with my wee tummy. I drank some Gatorade and ate a bit of a granola bar and sat there hoping I’d buck up. Sitting on the running bike, waiting to take to the track I felt positively ill, and as soon as I tipped it into the first corner I felt great and never thought about it again. The body is a funny machine sometimes, or I’m a nutcase, you decide.

I got a little better start, I think about 10^th going into turn three, but the rear tire felt very greasy. I made a serious blunder in not practicing on the tire, and was not running as fast on the new rubber. Each lap I tried to push it a little more, passing into seventh place again and trying to move towards sixth. About three laps from the end, coming out of turn one I got on the gas and lost the rear end. Luckily the rear end just slid out and the bike didn’t tumble, staying on the right side. I slid along and started tumbling when I hit the dirt, but didn’t get hurt other than a small bump on my elbow. I jumped up, started the bike, realized that I had no right rear set, and moved out of the impact zone and waited for the crash truck.

I was pretty bummed, but the damage was minor and the lessons were major. Always test, and never take anyone’s word for something without confirming. The tire profile and compound didn’t work for my bike and setup, whereas the Bridgestone 002r DOTs are awesome. I should have known better.

For the next round I’ll have the right spring rates, better setup, the right tires and more time on the bike. I’m feeling pretty racy, and my nerves aren’t bugging me at all.

Special thanks to California Race Services for their help and awesome Bridgestone tires.

Jack Pfeifer for the place to stay, the use of his spring, the washer and a load of advice, a very class act. Disco baby!

Peanut for helping me clean the bike and being very supportive all weekend–Luvusexy!