Monday, December 19, 2011

Super Quick ISDT Action! New Blaine 2010!

Pretty quick post, this time...with Gatorback in the bag the next race was one of the legs of the ISDT series, which are never very good for pics. It was March, and we were off to western Arkansas and scenic New Blaine. This time we had with us new friend and generally decent guy James Hogan. Hogan had brought along one of them fancy, occasionally operable two stroke things, a Bultaco Herpa or Shalpina or some such. I'm mostly gonna quote from my old race report for this one, because its easier than trying to remember these things:
"After a 463 hour drive, we (myself, Max, George, and Hogan) safely arrived, registered and tech-ed in, and retired to our camp to await the bad weather that inevitably was going to come, which is apparently our gig."
Being numbah 4 in our little band, Hogan was stuck on his own start time a bit ahead of us, leaving at 9:09am. Sadly, this meant we really only got to see him for a couple minutes at time checks an' such, but some incidental contact and general self abuse aside he seemed to be having a good day anyhow. One good side effect of this, however, is we got some pics of him setting off.
"our lil' trio of 5hunnert Triumphs departed on the 25th minute. Max, as per usual, tore on ahead en route to laying waste to the classic expert class he bumped up to as of this race, which left George an' me to carry on together which we did for most of the weekend, except for rare occasions when George held his bike's head underwater to try drowning it for having committed some trivial offense. In the end it was a good solid day with Max getting first and a gold medal; Hollywood a third and Bronze in PV Open Int.; Me 3rd and George 4th for bronzes in Classic Int. Then the weather rolled in. I can only ascribe the luck in finishing the day's riding before it got ugly to Hogan's presence, but when it hit, it was nasty. Winds kicked up and then the hail started....lots of hail....big hail for people not used to it. It looked like it had snowed for crissakes. Oddly, it was a short bit of hell, and unlike our usual luck, the worst stayed JUST either side of us, but how it would affect the course next day was a concern."
"Day 2 didn't start as pretty as Sat. It was gray, breezy, damp, cold, and generally meh. Hogan's bike responded to this dreariness by proving reluctant to start on his minute, but was soon running and on his way. Unlike day one, we would unfortunately catch up to him on the course. George's bike showed its anger at the weather by also proving a bit "hard start-y". For the most part, it was a good day riding, but on the way back from the second special test to the final time check we came upon poor, sad Hollywood, with a sparking plug hole that was stripped. Unable to get a plug in his hole, he ended up retiring, getting to ride back to camp in style while being regaled with the full history of the New Blaine region...the lucky dog. 
 Having stopped to offer moral support to Hogan, George an' I learned the valuable lesson of perhaps needing a time keeping device of some sort while riding in a time controlled event, arriving at the final control 4 minutes off our time and earning a fairly good penalty. After a break, with no sign of Hogan's return, it was down the road to the 4 lap grasstrack test, which I found pleasantly horrifying."
"That done it was back to camp. In the final tally for the day, Max beat stiff competition for another first and gold in Expert, I lost second and a silver due to my lack of watch/concept of the passage of time/brain, so George an' I finished as we did on sat with 3rd, 4th and bronzes."

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Start of the Big Dang Year: Gatorback!

And so begins 2010. As stated, this was to be a big year for us. Which means it was going to be a busy one, with lots of traveling. That wasn't the plan from day one, but as the season progressed Max an' I decided we would hit any races we possibly could and try to win our respective classes. I say "respective classes" because after this first race Max bumped up into Classic Expert, the writing being pretty clear on the wall that he was far beyond us Intermediate muddlers. So the season's first race at Gatorback was a milestone, being the last time Max would start on the same line as me and George. They grow up so fast. It was a pretty good sendoff, however, as we made up the entire line in Classic. There was Max, out for his first race on the Tr5t he had built over the winter. George, on his trusty Tr5t. Me, having sorta recovered from my broken leg, on the old T100. Jay on the Field Pig,
and Chad and Alex on their menagerie of BSA unit singles,
Max immediately dissapeared, which though not a surprise, proved he was even faster on the "little" Tr5t than he was on his old 650.
The rest of us lined up and proceeded to plod around the course at a much more sedate pace
That's us, politely lined up. I'm in the front followed by Chad, Jay, and Alex. George is hidden back there in the trees. I had no idea any of them were behind me until Chad popped around me in the woods. We kept on like that until I cleverly missed a turn and they followed. Jay wasn't fooled by my mistak....erm, clever plan. I think after I got turned around and bactracked to the turn I'd missed I got back on the course just in front of him...I think. Hopefully he'll refresh my memory on that. I do know he got past me, but I'm pretty sure it was further on. However, the Field pig sulked up going through the timing tent a bit later and I sneaked past. Max was, of course, beating us all to death, and lookin' good doing so,
I was mostly second, eventually holding that spot to the finish,
George finished 3rd because he ran a good, solid, trouble-free race, which is a statement that will be important as we get to the results of the other sad feckers.
And here we go. Let the tales of woe begin. Chad, seen here apparently crapping himself up the big hill,
and who had been running with us until the slight getting-lost incident decided to kill some time when his exhaust pipe fell off, requiring him to wedge it back in place with our favorite tool: "a stick". This dropped him back to Fifth
Alex, who had also been happily pounding along,
got caught up by George when he dumped his bike in soft sand, then got a bit confused and thought the white flag meant "surrender" instead of "one lap to go" and missed his last lap. He still managed Fourth.
And then there's Jay. Oh...Jay.... Monsieur Jay, who had gotten himself up into second until he stalled his bike, finished sixth. Soon after he got his bike restarted he lost his gas cap. This only became problematic/excruciatingly painful when gas began sloshing out of the tank and onto his crotch. To this day his campfire tale of dancing around with his pants off, scaring spectators while trying to get water to douse his, ummm, man bits is one of the most ridiculous things you will ever hear. If you ever meet him, be sure to ask him about it. As the tears well up in his eyes remembering the pain, you will thank yourself.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Best Way To Mark A Transition Is To Set Stuff On Fire!

With Barber in the bag, racing came to an end for 2009. For all his hard work Max was rewarded with the Classic Intermediate Championship, which is not too shabby. His bike was well and truly blown up, but thanks to the Carolina boys, he learned that there was a Tr5t lurking in dark recesses of the "Parts Department". The PD, actually called Rusty Rides, is the domain of a certain John French, one of those low key guys with a stack of neat bikes, a ton of parts, and is capable of pelting a bratty kid with a dead fish like no one else. He's helped a good many of us out on numerous occasions. The Tr5t in his possession was described as "having spent a good bit of its life in the bottom of a pond", but the price was right, and since we're generally Brit-bike bottom feeders, we're used to horrors and cruddy piles as starting points. A plan was therefore hatched to head up to Jay's one weekend, pick up the bike, and generally hang out with everyone. As usual, you can't put this many goons in a field on a sunny day with a ton of beer and not expect them to turn into 14 year olds, so we decided the thing to do was to set up a dirty trials course through the "critch" (recipe: take equal parts creek and ditch, then stir) that runs behind Jay's ol' farmhouse. But! introductions, first:
That's Mister French holding the machete, vital for Critch Trials Set-up. Jay, Max and Marcus (walking away) fall under the "usual suspects" heading. Alex and Chad were there, along with a man who goes by many names, but you can call him Pat...because that's his name.
Pat runs a 500 Triumph in vintage road racing, though his poor bike has currently got a rod sticking outta the cases so these days he mostly just hangs out at races stealing our snacks. Also present was all around good guy and current owner of Jay's old Field Pig, Hippy Jim
Niceties outta the way, lets get to some Action! I've seen a lot of action packed dumb things you can do in a field, but only a few of them have been more action packed than Critch Trials. That's why I highly recommend you find the slimiest, likely disease infested-est critch you can and give it a go. Like Max,
Or John, who brought along his Greeves, an excellent Critch Iron
Though this might be a slight dab,
Jay's attempt, you can print these out and make a decent flip book,
As you can see, Max did the important thing and rescued the bike, choosing to leave Jay to his own devices
Alex decided to miss the drop back into the critch altogether, that's probably a 5
Then there was some general purpose tomfoolery in the big field beside the house. Here's Marcus, showing the world that a Bultaco can run
That is, of course, unless its..err...not running
John attacks a woodpile with vicious Villiers Power!
And Chad proves that even a large amount of person can't keep a good bike down...well a BSA single at least.
With all those activities properly taken care of, the only thing left on the agenda was to set the field on fire, which we did
And then with our to-do list squared away, we sat around the mighty fire and drank more beer before calling it a night and trying not to freeze to death sleeping in Jay's wood stove heated front room (apparently the trick to keeping one going while you sleep is to NOT fall asleep). Oh yeah! And Max picked up the bike he'd be running come spring!
Not that it looked like this when he got it. I sadly don't have a pic in as-delivered state. He would have to fully rebuild it in time for the start of the season, which was very exciting, because 2010 was going to be a really busy year for Triumph 5hunnerts. But that's in the future, so for now we'll just bid a fond farewell to 2009.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Barber! A Prequel!!!

What a coinkie-dink. We were just racing at Barber and in our ongoing traipse through time we are also...at Barber 2009. I was still broken, no racing for me, but I was walking (kinda) so I strapped a cane scabbard onto my lil' ol' D3 Bantam, figuring that it weighing in at 12 lbs. (approx.) and seat height of 14 in. (approx.) I was pretty safe on the little bugger and therefore got to ride a powered mochine for the first time in months. That was the perfect plan, because I could get down to the swap meet, to the woods to check trials (which is a perfect task for a slightly broken dude) and watch the racing. Which in the Cross Country world usually means sitting around and drinking beer as you wait for the people you're cheering on to come back around every few minutes. Its an odd spectator sport...just sayin'.
As it was, the racing was....interesting. It had been raining (as usual at a race in 2009) leaving the sighting lap a sloppy hell, with a couple spots so bad they had to cut out a huge chunk of the course. Max didn't make it through the sighting lap. He cooked a big end and was only able to get out of the woods by pulling the plug from the offending cylinder and letting it freewheel. Luckily, George had no interest in a repeat of the slimy suckfest that was Tennessee, so he let Max borrow his Tr5t to beat senseless.
That's the bike in question, parked next to good friend Jason, the beer drinkin'est, BMW ridin'est Latin teacher yer ever gonna meet. Max was a bit nervous about being on a borrowed bike, him not being the take it easy type and him having already broken one bike for the weekend. But he's made of sterner stuff, so lined up for a course that was basically a mile long sprint. Seriously, the first row was coming back around for their next lap before the last row was away.
I've got a buncha photos of ol' Max in this one because we had several people taking pics and because the course was so short he came by about 436 times.
In the end, Max was so happy with the Tr5t, he decided he didn't want to rebuild his 650, but instead wanted a 5 hunnert of his very own.
And the best part is, he didn't break George's bike! So with that, I'll leave you with a retread pic (because I already used this one on the goodbye thread to the old van), but I like it so here ya' go!