Hard Days Rockin'

Hardrock Cycle Park. It would eventually become my nemesis, but after Carolina it was where we went to improve our bikes and our riding. Hardrock is a little piece of hell. Its located in an abandoned limestone quarry which gives it a definite...um...un-Florida character. It has rocks, steep climbs, precipitous drops, nasty holes, gullies, and groomed tracks. It nearly killed Max when he first raced it, its awesome. It currently scares me to death, having broken my foot and leg there on separate occasions, but it is fun. It has cliffs for crissakes! CLIFFS!

This is headed down to a nice little hellhole called The Bottom. The trail down into it is a lot like going over the first drop on a log flume ride. You just have to ease up to it because you pretty much fall over the lip and there's a cliff face rising up to greet you. Essentially, you put Sir Isaac in control and bank a hard right. Its terrifying, but ballistics seem to be on your side and you get to reward yourself by being here:

Hooray! Normally you just slog through and thank yourself for the experience. And then...
You'll notice Max's smile in the next pic

That would be because The Bottom had a special treat for us this time

Which wouldn't be so bad except getting out of the Bottom is as fun as getting in. The previously mentioned cliff across the trail at the foot of the drop means there's no chance to get a run at it. You put your rear wheel against the bank and rejoice that you've got a big twin to pull you up.

Max got out okay, but I didn't chop the throttle fast enough coming over the top and brought my bozack into firm contact with my tank

And there's just not much you can do at that point but get off the bike and whimper for a bit.
At the time I was in an anti-work mood, so was taking Fridays off, and Max had a pretty flexible schedule so we would head down during the day and pretty much have the place to ourselves.

We'd get some chicken strips on the way down and just ride until we were worn the feck out, which during summer could happen pretty quick, or until we broke something, although at this point it was just stuff on the bikes. If you've got a 60's Triumph brake lever lying around you can compare it to this one, then beat it with a hammer to find out how much force it takes to do this:

Did I mention there were rocks at Hardrock?
Yep, time was a' flyin'. But we had bigger fish to fry, because the next race was comin' up. But that's another tale.