THE
RACE DIARIES - PART
9
(RAGING BULL - but more so)
SUNDAY 26th
AUGUST - THE BIG
RACE
|
"And
they're off". 'arris (5th) gets the holeshot on Ian ... err
... who looks like he has yet to go. |
Everything
slowed down for a moment, as the sounds of revving motors all around
me lost their bark. I took one big deep breath and let the clutch
go in unison with the flag drop.
"Waaaahhhhhhhhh".
We were off.
By the time
I reached corner 2, the three Buells and JP were already gone, as
well as two SVs that had managed to holeshot me. I slid controllably
round 2 and 3 and then settled back and tried not to crash. After
all, Ian hadn't passed me yet, so maybe Mr. Seck was right.
Hey, this
isn't too bad. I mean, everybody else is in the same boat when it
comes to traction, and a bit of slide around the corners ain't so
bad after a lap or two. I believe that it was lap three that I foolishly
decided to try corner 2 with a little more reckless abandon.
|
If
you've ever been kicked in the shin, you've probably got an idea
of just how much that hurt (woe is me). |
I could almost
instantly feel the back end slide out, but with more vigour and intent
than previously. This was followed almost immediately with a a vicious
tank slapper. Instinctively, I put both feet down on the ground to
try and hold it up, only to have the wildly thrashing S slam its right
cylinder hard into my shin. Without delay it bucked back to the left
and gave a hard whack to my other shin with the other cylinder.
"Holy
.. Ouch .. Shit .. Ouch", this has never happened to me before.
Once again
I was tensing up for the inevitable dumping, only to once again be
given a calm second in which to grab hold of the bars and wobble painfully
through corner 3. Two SVs swooped by, but I didn't care anymore.
I can remember
looking up and seeing an RDS camera on me. "That'll look impressive"
I thought as I made an exaggerated shake of my head, as if to emphasise
to the viewer at home that this wasn't really a race but more a test
of raw nerve, expensive tires and, well, luck.
|
'Arris
out-brakes a non-ABS equipped lightweight. Suckerrrrrr.
Photo: Touseef Mirza |
After a couple
more laps of much more conservative riding, it dawned on me that I
might have an advantage with the S's ABS brakes. After all, everybody
was braking early at the end of each straight in the fear of that
momentary front wheel lock up and the resultant up close and personal
feeling with the track.
ABS was designed
with this pretty well in mind (okay on a wet road rather than a track,
but it still seemed to be a plausible translation of the original
intent). And so it was, that I gleefully sped past some of the cockier
bikes that had already passed me, and with hero-like late braking
in dire conditions, shaved off my excess speed and trundled through
the next corner. This time I found myself doing a smug nod at the
RDS camera as if to say, "Hey kids, this is bloody dangerous,
but I'm obviously fooking brilliant. Don't try this at home."Good
old ABS - you gotta love it.
|
I'd
hazard a guess that non of these guys are breathing right now
- The three Buells get the holeshot on JP at the race's start. |
I can remember
from the ASM race school that we had taken the previous weekend, JP
saying (yes, the same JP also instructs at the school) that we should
not forget to breathe. For all of you still breathing, this seems
like a relatively obvious statement, but there are times when you
get so scared/tense, that you just stop doing it. This happens mostly
in corners, and I often found myself sprinting back up the straight,
gulping for air. Much like a fish does when it suddenly finds itself
on the bottom of a boat - although I'm not a fish and I was on a motorcycle
and not a boat, but you get the idea.
I was now
about half way through the 'race' when I realised that Ian had yet
to pass me. Maybe Mr. Seck was actually right. Or, maybe I really
am just fooking brilliant. Coming out of the double apex and onto
the back straight, I glanced across to my left and noticed a veritable
party going on in the infield. There were 3 or 4 riders standing in
a circle, with various damaged motorcycles propped up around them.
And there in the middle of them was Ian. Hmmhh, maybe the new tires
didn't do what he was hoping for.
|
And
down he goes! Ian McQueen surrenders to
the evil forces of a slick corner 2.
Photo: Touseef Mirza |
With no Buell
or JP in sight ahead, and now no-one in my class behind, I figured
that all I had to do was finish the race and I'd come in fifth, albeit
by default. Hey, that gets me a plaque and a whopping $25.00 cheque.
All of a sudden life was looking good.
The track
was starting to dry out and a dry racing line making its presence.
Although this allowed me to pick up the speed a little (as friction
had noticeable increased), it also raised the stakes when it came
to making an error. You see, normally if you screw up that line, you
end up losing a bit of time and give racers behind you a golden opportunity
to pass. Now the line allowed for greater speed, but veering off it
by mistake meant that you suddenly found yourself sans traction and
avec speed. You can guess the result.
You might
not have guessed that I actually managed to keep on that line and
it was with extreme relief that I finally passed the finish line,
securing fifth place and my enormous cheque. It's interesting to note,
that I might be the only amateur racer in all of racing history to
make money in the sport, as the usual associated costs ended up either
being covered by loaners or sponsors.
|
JP
looks just stunned as the reality of the situation sinks in. 2001
Championship holder, Don Paquette, and Wolf BMW's Ian 'Crasher'
McQueen sympathise. |
After the
'cool-down' lap, I was waived into an area to the left of the front
straight where the three Buell riders and an anxious looking JP were
waiting.
"Did
you get it? Did you get the championship?" I gasped to JP. He
said he wasn't sure, but I think he knew the worst. At that point
an ASM official came over, said something in French and the three
Buell guys gave out a cheer and started high-fiving. JP had come in
forth, and his main rival, Don Paquette, won the race after race leader
Darren James slowed down to let him take the flag.
Well done
guys, it was an impressive victory and good team work to ensure that
Buell once again took the championship. They'd done good and all ridden
superbly under heinous conditions. However, I couldn't help but feel
sorrow for JP who had battled against all odds without factory support,
only to see the championship slip from his hands, and under conditions
that took emphasis away from the rider and placed it heavily on the
tires. But then that's racing, with all its twists and turns. Like
it or not.
Back at the
pits, we rounded up the BMW crew and popped the cheap bubbly a top
the BMW truck tower, spraying away our fears and disappointments but
relieved to be still standing (although at least one member had the
help of crutches to do so).
|
|
|
Mr
Seck, unable to escape, gets the ceremonial dousing over the head
routine.
Photo: Touseef Mirza |
'Arris
comes in last but gets a cheque and plaque non the less. Oh, and
he's well chuffed with it all. |
JP
and Don (2nd and 1st in the championship respectively) savour
their moment of glory and camaraderie. |
Since this
was the end of the racing season for all the ASM classes, awards were
handed out to the victors of each class from within the main St. Eustache
Autodrome building - each to a rapturous roar from the crowd of racers.
It was a cool ending to a well fought racing season. I was privileged
to be part of it and came away with great respect for anyone who has
the guts and determination to give this a go.
Cheers.