Dusty, dusty, dusty: Barber 2010

Jumping back in time, once again, we head to 2010 where it was time for Barber. George wasn't racing which meant he was able to take a bunch of good pics, so I'll keep the type-y bits short. Basically, Barber is usually a good event, with a large turnout both for the racing and just to camp and hang out. 2010 was no different, with Max and me joined by Chad and Larry. All bikes seemed okay so it looked like it was going to be a good race. The Triumph had settled down and was mostly behaving itself.

And despite his attempts to broil himself with one of his BSA singles, Chad was not swayed from his faith in the evil things and had shown up on one of the examples he hadn't tried to barbeque.

Max, up with the fast kids was off like a rocket at the start, but I as usual got a crummy start so ended up going into the woods behind Chad and Larry.

This was bad because Chad and I were kinda in a scrap having not been in a race together since Jeepskool when I had completely shamed myself. Larry isn't terribly comfy in the woods, and his pace shows that, so being stuck behind him I could do nothing but watch Chad walk away until I could get past. Luckily there was a nice long straight not too far into the course, so was able to use the Triumph's not insignificant difference in power to get past his Rickman before diving into the woods and picking up Chad, who had gotten stuck behind a slower rider. This happened right before the trickiest spot on the course, a steep drop into a deep "V" of a gully with a 90 degree sharp left at the bottom. The spot had already made it onto my radar on the sighting lap when it had become a mess, and it would stay that way through the race. The situation wasn't helped by a dead bike that someone must have stalled there on the sighting lap and had chosen to just abandon in the worst possible spot. Needless to say, Chad and I dropped down that slope and found ourselves stuck in a mess of 4 or 5 bikes because of another stalled two stroke menace. One of Max's favorite sayings (which rarely refers to actual physical location, but rather a more ethereal concept of "being") instantly came to mind "that's not where you wanna be, bud". With its size and weight, the Triumph makes a pretty decent bulldozer, so I put both cylinders to use to get the hell outta there before another rider came down that slope and tried to park in my...er...hindquarters. This had the added benefit of putting me ahead of Chad, but he stayed right on me throughout that lap. You can see how close he was at the timing tent in the orange/black pants just clearing the trees

Up ahead Max was on a much faster pace, but was beginning to have a problem with some rough running and his bike cutting out

The course was a pretty fast loop, so you turned a lot of laps in a pretty short time. Chad stuck with me until he attempted a pass at an inopportune spot and clothes-lined himself on a vine, leaving him a nice Hang 'em High mark on his neck. I was oblivious, so spent the rest of the race thinking he was right on my tail

 Despite his bike's mystery ignition problem, Max was lapping between a half and a full minute faster than me as he doggedly tried to stay up with the front runners

 It was bone dry out there, so almost immediately the ground got churned up and became airborne. As the race progressed, it seemed the dust was less and less inclined to settle down, eventually getting to the point it felt like you were riding through a forest fire

In the end, Max's bike got worse, becoming too much of a fight and began to worry him, so he bowed out at 9 laps with 3rd in his class, which worried him a bit about his points because we had one race left, which was the ISDT Reunion Ride. Therefore, he was fairly concerned that an intermittent but clearly recurring electrical gremlin was cropping up right before an event that required many hours of riding over a couple days with a couple creek crossings to add water into an already worrying electrical equation.

Chad's run in with the vine rang his bell pretty good and I think he'd had a hard time getting his mind back into the race afterwards, leading him to call it quits after 4 or 5 laps. I was completely confused, the timing board at the end of each lap kept saying I was in second, but there had been no one else in Classic Int. on our line. Then suddenly, one lap it claimed I was the leader. I spent the rest of that lap trying to figure out the other person in my class and when I had passed him, only to see 2nd place again at the end of the next lap. It took a little bit after the race to figure what had happened. There was another Tr5t in the race, but he had accidentally started on the expert line, so I had assumed he was in Max's class. Not that it woulda made any difference at all had I known this at the time. He was much faster than me so I only even saw him during the race because he had gotten himself off course, stalled and had trouble restarting. We had actually gone back and forth a bit after that, but he was clearly faster and my clutch was beginning to drag so he strolled on ahead for the win. Between the dust and my clutch, after that many short laps I finished looking like some sort of grubby hobo

Oh, and the bike's return side pump had begun acting up right at the end of the race. No damage seemed to have occurred, but a mighty Harrumph was aimed squarely at the bike.

So with one race to go, both my an Max's bike were being quite mysterious. My points situation was such that I had already won Classic Intermediate, but Max would need a first at the Reunion Ride to win his class. He had run unopposed in that series to this point, and likely would again, but being a two day event that counted as a single race, he would have to finish both days to get the points he needed to get into first in Expert, which meant the mystery gremlin in the ignition would have to be found. Fun, fun.

The Hondapotamus Cometh! Gatorback 2012

Its been a while since I posted anything, funny how life can take up so much time. So its time to get some stuff up or I'm gonna fall even further behind. We're now a couple races into the 2012 season, so I'll get back to the old timey tales later, for now I'm gonna get some of the recent stuff outta the way. Earlier this year (March 9th, in fact) was the first race, our "home" event at Gatorback cycle park outside of Gainesville.  For us this is always a good way to start. Its close to home, its a friendly course, and it usually attracts a good collection of friends. This year was no different, the course was much as in previous years, a good balance of fast dirt sections, scrabbly bits, and some not too tight woods. Along with the usual bunch of riders we always like seeing at these events, we were also graced with the presence of some of the Carolina boys. Making the trip were Alex (he of many BSA singles), Hippy Jim on the Field Pig, and for the first time, Eric, who showed up with the Hondapotamus: a ginormous Honda CB450 that weighed just over 856 pounds.

Max was on his Tr5t, of course

And I was on the Mongrel 20, fresh off its latest round of off-season fixes and possibly needless "improvements". I overfilled my oil tank and it was oozing slippery stuff out the filler cap, which oddly seemed to alarm some bystanders...guess they hadn't seen my bike before. This led to a particularly long conversation with the gent below where I had to explain each leak and why I wasn't concerned

The sighting lap was pretty straightforward, so without much fuss it was time to line up for the start. Max was, as usual, on the line ahead with the faster kids

My line had the rest of our bunch

Pretty much everyone is visible in the next pic

Alex, 652, on the left, Eric and me behind the bucking 11A, with Jim on the far right on 57c. Special notice must be made of Tre (future of Ahrma) Allison, 33A...in pink, because he is soon to figure rather prominently in our little narrative.
As usual, I got a crap start. My bike occasionally needs 2 kicks to get things whirring, which is a Bad Thing because you can't hear its gentle blub, blub, blubbing over the ungodly racket the two strokes make at a start, which usually means you put the bike in gear to go before you realize there is no combustion occurring. Oddly, the same thing happened to Max at his start.

Eric was off like a smallish dude on a large, porcine rocket, his nemesis Tre the Pink Destroyer in tow

Eventually followed by me and Alex

Though we oddly caught up to Eric and Tre fairly soon,


Which was the aftermath of this little gem, caught on Tre's helmetcam

Listen close and you'll hear the sound of Eric's "ooofff!" as he gets Hodaka'd. He did get a bit of revenge on the murderous little two stroke, snapping Tre's shift lever (prolly with his helmet) leaving him to finish the race stuck in first gear.
Max was happily bombing along, he seemed to be having a slight carb issue, but nothing bad enough to make him stop

He would later discover that the jet holder had managed to unscrew itself in a bid for freedom, but was restrained from doing so by the float bowl.
Alex and I settled into a fairly gentlemanly scrap over the next few laps, as smaller nimble BSA-ness was pitted against Raw AMC Twin Power!

However, Alex's bike was geared too high for a longer CC course, which meant much revving and the onset of Hot Sulky Single-itis which caused him to drop back. Happily, he and the bike made it through the race despite finishing with a case of Sweaty BSA Face.

The AJS was finally really settling down to a happy groove. It kept steadily ploughing along and finally had a race where it was my shortcomings as a rider that kept holding up progress...which is great! I'm not sure why, but I have no issue with me being a crummy rider but a real issue with my bike being crummy.

In the end, I think everyone had a good day. Jim, for his first time out, didn't try to push his luck with himself and his bike (which he is still in the developing-relationship-with stage) and bagged it after a lap. Max was a bit concerned about his bike, he wouldn't find the carb problem until he got home, but was nonetheless happy as hell to be racing again after a long winter's nap. Eric, broken brake lever a-floppin' even managed to to keep moving, and pretty darned quickly at that.

Alex, despite his bike puking 6754 pints of oil throughout the formerly pristine Florida woods, not only survived, but managed to be re-oiled for the next day's MX (where he was joined by Indiana folk Rich and his Dad and Sean), which suited the little C-15's gearing much better. Then it was back to St. Augustine for beer, and beer.
All in all, a good weekend.