May 21-22 WERA West, Las Vegas

At the conclusion of the WERA West festivities for May 21 and 22, I turned to Peanut and proclaimed, “If every weekend of racing was like that, I’d retire now.” That’s the short of it, but despite that I ended the weekend with a 4^th in Formula 1 and a 7^th in A Superstock.

The weekend started ok, with us leaving only an hour and a half behind schedule, and arriving at the track at 1:30 in the morning. Vegas hotels have gotten ridiculous, and we couldn’t find anything remotely reasonable, so decided to sleep in the van. The first sign of trouble was that it was over 80 degrees when we got there.

The next morning Britt started helping me get teched and ready. She wasn’t racing and it was very nice to have someone to help with the little stuff. It was also a pleasant change of pace not to have to work on her bike as well. That little thing has been possessed of late. Due to a national shortage of DOT Bridgestone’s, I only had one set for the whole weekend, so I decided to buy a set of Michelin’s to practice on. This is less than ideal as any changes the tires make to the chassis, or changes I need to improve, can’t be made because of how different one set is from the other. All they really allowed me to do was work on lines and get more familiar with the track layout.

Right away it was clear that although I had a stiffer rear spring than before, it wasn’t enough, and the bike continued to run wide. The temperatures soared and before noon it was over 100 degrees, pretty hot for a NW transplant. I was suffering from some cold/flu virus thing and the heat just kicked my ass. In addition, I forgot my wicking rash guard and Coolmax socks, which meant the cotton I was using just held all the perspiration and heat against my body. I skipped a session at lunch just cause I was so hot and exhausted. No matter what I did, I ran slower than last time, even though I had a better setup and more time on the track. It was very frustrating.

That evening, we were bumming a shower when our friend David Nguyen volunteered to let us stay in their guest bedroom. We stumbled over ourselves to accept and had a great dinner with Vincent Chu and his wife, David and his, Britt and I, and Jack Pfeifer and his son, Drake.

The next morning, I put the new Bridgestone’s on and warmed up. The bike was better, but still wouldn’t hold a line the way I needed and I was feeling like unless I pulled a rabbit out of my hat during my races, I wasn’t going to break into the top five. As the day progressed, the heat came back and it was soon over 100 again. The previous day’s exertions had left me with a more intense infection than before, and I was feeling very fatigued before I started the race. I was sweating and kept getting stinging perspiration in my eyes, and had soaked the suit just in the warm up.

My first race was F-1, the premier race of the day, which is a 10 lapper instead of the 8 laps all the others run. I wasn’t looking forward to either race, and was firmly in “damage control” mode instead of “race to kick-ass” mode.

I got a terrible start, and ended up about 20^th into turn one, but unluckily for some dude who sprang a leak, the race was red-flagged before the first lap crossed the line, and we were sent to the pits to await the restart of the FULL RACE DISTANCE! For once, I was hoping they would shorten the thing, but no dice. Restart two was a tiny bit better, but a crash to my left that I managed to avoid scuttled the first lap, AGAIN! The third re-start was my best of the day, and we kept it clean for the whole lap. I was in about seventh and felt like if I could just find some form, I’d be swell. I pushed hard for about two laps, passing and being passed, until I hit a wall. While I was fortunate the wall was of the metaphorical variety, it sure put a damper on my forward progress. I immediately started slowing down. I started looking for the half-way flag, and listening for someone behind me. Additionally, my foot was burning from the exhaust touching my rearset and transferring the heat to my tootsies, so much so that I was taking my foot off the peg down any straight. I’m guessing I slowed down 4 seconds a lap. I started to feel weak and nauseated, and began thinking about pulling in, but kept telling myself I had to get points, had to get points, had to get points. <Insert your snide comment about my bull-headedness here>

I ended the race getting passed by someone I had passed the lap earlier and thought was a lapper, because there was no way I was passing an expert in front of me going as slow as I was. But I did, and instead of pulling away, slowed down so much he slipped back by at the line. It wasn’t until later I learned that a few of the frontrunners had pulled off a lap early after seeing the white flag twice, and as a result I ended up in 6^th. This is my best guess and what the WERA website reports, but it's confusing, and I wouldn't be surprised if I end up changing this later.

I pulled into the pits and managed not to fall over until I was off the bike. I was faint, sweating like you wouldn’t believe, and felt like throwing up. I bummed a ride on a borrowed scooter from Britt, who had no idea I felt as bad as I did, and then crawled into Vince’s air-conditioned trailer. Britt showed up, and realized how bad I was, and everyone grabbed ice to pack on me and wet towels for my head. After about half an hour, I could sit up enough to have Britt help me out of my leathers, and I drank a ton of water and had a popsicle. You know how much your wife loves you when she’s wiping a gallon of sweat off the floor and trying to reason with you about not racing the second race.

I felt good enough after more water and rest in a cool place that I reasoned that if I just circulated around, I could get some points and conserve energy. I managed to get the worst start of my life, wheelying wildly twice and eventually going into turn one dead last. I just shook my head and tried to ride at a relaxed pace to try and see what would happen. It was much easier than the first race, but I ended up back in 7^th yet again, proving that the heat was affecting everyone and further proving that I’m a glutton for punishment. On to round three at WSIR June 5, where I plan to be fully recovered, properly hydrated and suitably attired.

I have to thank Britt first and foremost, as she was very, very patient with a crabby, heat-exhausted, sweaty me. Luvubaby.

Secondly, thanks to David Nguyen and Vince Chu for letting us stay the night and sweat all over the floor, respectively.

Finally, I have to thank Motul. I heard people talking about how hot their bikes ran all weekend, and my bike never had a water temperature over 205. I’m convinced it’s due to the superior nature of their oil and products, Bravo.