Basic Race Report...

Ah, the last race of the year. No worries about keeping the bike together for the next race - plenty of time to change things over the winter. Racing in Portland (or anywhere in the NorthWest for that matter) in October is always a crap shoot. It can be 60s and sunny, or 40s and rainy, or both. On this particular crisp, autumn day, we got all of the above!

I headed down Friday with Denise, Jennie and Jamie...my grandson. Graham also came down Friday and stayed with his parents. Carl, Lorien and Brook also came down and stayed down the road. Scott came down bright and early Saturday morning and brought Alan, John and John's son, Josh. A full crew, the clowns were all there. Well, except Raber. Raber was up in the Great White North somewhere. Something about a bachelor's party or something. Must have been a good party to get everyone to go to Canada for! Oh well...

When I got to the track at around 7:15, Graham was waiting for us. Wanting to stay an extra day, he decided to forego covered transportation, and rode is VFR down. There he was, sitting in the half empty pits, just waiting. I excused myself for being a bit late - had to pick up some gas - around 20 gallons of it... It had rained most of the night, but was clearing now, but still everything was soaked. We looked for an area that had no low spots for puddles, and set up our pit on the wall. Portland International Raceway is a city park, and until the demise of CART, hosted that race every June. So the facility is in pretty good shape.

Once the pit is set up, we get our paperwork and hit the gear tech, and then walk the SV down for the bike tech. Once this formality is completed, the bike is on stands and off come the hardened rubber from the Spokane 6 hour last month. We drop the wheels off at the Dunlop truck, and discuss our options. The forecast is 50% chance of rain, but the skies are clearing now. I figure it was going to rain at some point during the day, and decided we'd go with DOTs - that way we'd have an advantage while the track dried in between clouds. Of course, it had been a while since I'd raced Portland in autumn - I was remembering typical summer days, when the racing line would dry in 10 minutes. Not today...

Just before the rider's meeting, Carl, Lorien and Brook show up, and take over wheel responsibilities, while Andy and I hit the rider's meeting. Sam, a rider I met through John, and who lives in Salem, was there for practice, and was going to cornerwork the 4 hour, and race in his novice sprints the next day. The SV is back together, I look it over, we set the tire pressures, and on go the tire warmers. I was going to go out first on brand new skins, on a soaking wet race track - at least the rubber was going to be warm!

Sam had picked up a new race bike, a hand-me-down F3, and had some suspension questions. The guy he bought it from weighed about 60 pounds more, and he wasn't having much fun on it! I looked it over, and the rear preload was way stiff. I told him to wheel it over to our pit, and we'll clinic the suspension, and then he could use my extra set of warmers, if he wanted for his two practice sessions. I back off a full half inch of preload and 5 clicks of rebound. His sag was at 3/4 inch, which should be a ton better. I advised a lighter spring, but this would get him through the day. I also took one ring of preload out of the front. The damping felt okay, so I left it alone. After I gave him some wet weather racing tips, it was time for me to head out for my first practice...

While the sun was trying to come out, the track was still completely wet. Only the Slow session had been out, and they didn't even make a dent in the moisture. I go out, and was quickly reminded how snotty Portland was in the wet. I basically rode around for 20 minutes, trying to find out where there could be some traction. While the braking line into turn one was okay, pretty much the rest of the track sucked. I came in and while I got the tires warm enough to steam, there were still one inch chicken stripes on the rear. I decided about every city street on the planet had more traction than this racetrack in the wet. This was my only practice session of the day - my next roll would be in battle...

When Andy's session came up, the track was just starting to get a dry line. I was turning 1:50s (over 30 seconds off my dry times), and Andy was getting into the 1:30s - woohoo! Out only 10 minutes or so, we see him head in. I'm wondering what's going on. He comes into the pit holding his head just so. He tells someone to grab the bike, and at that moment, gently lifts his visor. Stuck to the inside of his visor was the contact lens for his right eye. It flipped out on the front straight, and stuck there for him to come completely around, and then make it into the pits. He didn't have his spares either! Omens can swing both ways...

His session over, we park it until after lunch, and the start of the race. In the mean time, the sun is fully out, and the air temperature cracks 50 degrees! Everyone is loose, and a few of the clowns head out and pick up some lunch. I scarf down a banana, and half a liter of Propel. The start coming up, I put down some GOO!, and roll out. The warmers had been on all morning, so the tires were toasty. Andy had been able to touch each edge, so they were also scuffed. The track fully dry, it was show time. There were 17 bikes on the grid - tiny by any standard - only the hearty, or fool-hearty need to apply today.

The flag waves, and off we go. I think there were 6 or 7 lightweights, and I settle in for third or fourth. My times were working out to be pretty slow. I was running mid '19s and '20s, over a full second off my normal pace, and I was having to work at it. I settle in to battle a slower 600 - I'd pass on the inside of three, and hold it until the front straight, and then he'd get me. After a while, I pressed it, and made it stick - that was pretty fun. I think my fastest lap was an '18.6, but that was real work. My right arm was starting to pump, and while I could brake okay, it was getting tough to move around and control the throttle well. About thirty minutes into my shift, I notice the incoming sky changing color - it was getting dark! Looking at the time - the stock dash does come in handy - I figure I'm getting close to my turnover. This day called for forty minute shifts.

I tried to step it up a bit, and cut a few tenths, and stay in the low '19s. Heading through turn one, turn two, I arc it over into turn three. Putting in just a bit too much input, I ride off the front tire and I'm on my side. As usual, the low-side was slow motion at 70 miles an hour. I stay on my side and watch the bike hit the edge of the track. Please don't flip, I'm thinking. The ground is so saturated, it hits the mud and just comes to a gentle stop. I slide safely off the track, hop up and hurry over to the wall. The cornerworkers check me out, and I start triage. Looking pretty clean, the shifter lost its toe piece, the clutch lever is mangled, and the left handlebar turned around on the fork tube about 20 degrees. Rather than wait for the crash truck, I broke the wadded clutch lever, and rode the bike back to the pits via an escape road. Getting to the pits, I let everyone know what we need, and get the spare parts out for the crew to replace.

About ten minutes later the bike was about ready to go, and the skies opened up, and the wind started to whip. This immediately takes down a couple riders, and the red flag is thrown. At least we'll have only lost about 10 minutes. We get the bike and me re-teched, and Andy goes out in a pouring rain storm. I felt really bad, as it was going to take a miracle for the track to redry. Those that had the money put on rain tires during the red flag. Andy was out only a lap or two, when back into the pits he came. Please adjust this bar - done, and out he goes. Then a lap later, he's back in. As we gathered around, he was holding his head funny again. This time the lens was stuck to his cheek. Being the hardened racer I had taught him to be (just kidding), he handed the lens to Carl, and rode off - with one eye. Figuring, the most he was going to do was tour, hey why not. His shift went by, and he was able to bring it back in.

I headed out for my second shift - I see a 2:02 on the timer, Andy's last lap. Mine weren't much faster - I did 1:50s - but it was pretty fun, in a sort of primal way - especially charging into turn one at a buck-thirty in the full wet. The front 208GP was actually holding in there pretty well. The rear 207 just didn't have the right siping to drain well though, and would spin up when least provoked. Turn three, which I normally apexed at around 70 miles an hour, knee on the ground, was getting a respectful 38 miles an hour in the wet. I'd stay in 4th gear or taller throughout the entire course. I pretty much rode around, trying to stay out of the way of anyone on full rains. The fast guys were lapping me every 5 laps! I did notice one thing though, there were fewer and fewer bikes left in the race. Turn eight in particular was to be collecting bikes. At one time I noticed three bikes sitting at the wall in eight. After a leisurely 40 minutes I saw my board, and made sure I made it back this time!

Andy heads out and I relax. By this time, the sun is back out, but there is no breeze, so nothing is really drying out. Alan is counting bikes...besides ours, they all fit on two hands. We look up and down the pits, and there are at least two other lightweights that are out. Hmmmm. Andy's shift goes by quickly, and I get ready. The time is now around 4:25 - around 30 minutes to go in the race. We bring him in. During the rider exchange I ask him he wants me to come in and give him the last 15 minutes and let him take the checker - sure! So out I go...

While some puddles I remember from my second shift have drained, especially one nasty one near the apex of turn one, the track is still wet throughout. But through the racing line, the pavement color is starting to dull, meaning it's trying to dry. The color is deceiving though, as the bike is still moving around a lot. I get about two laps into the shift, and was heading out of turn four to get ready to get on the back straight. Arcing through turn five, in fifth gear, I spin the rear up - bad. I think the tire was spinning fifty miles an hour faster than the front by the time I could respond. In the mean time, the rear is kicking out to the right - I correct - then it's back to the left - shit. I try to back off the throttle without highsiding, but being in such a tall gear, the wheel just doesn't want to slow down. Also, I'm not turning anymore - I'm going straight...for the wall at about 70 miles an hour!

The next fraction of a second is a blur. I knew I didn't want to be on the bike anymore. It obliged...I don't know if I bailed, or if it spit me, but now I'm sliding. I was spun around, and I could see the turn five corner station - a bad thing, because I knew I was heading head-first towards the wall. I rocked a round, and managed to get sideways. I stopped about a foot away. The bike didn't. Coming down on the right side this time, it hit head first - speed unknown. For the second time in my racing career, I managed to cause a red flag to come out and get the race stopped. Looking at the bike, I knew our day had ended. But it would be at least another five minutes before anyone would make up laps on us!

Within a few minutes, the crash truck was there, and we poured it into the back. A big chunk of the wind screen was laying around, so I grabbed it. Alan had ridden a bicycle out to the guard rail as we came back towards the pits. I smiled, "...at least it's the last race!" We get to the pits, I hold up the jagged piece of wind screen. "Think we can reuse this!" Carl had mentioned after my first get-off, that I could even crash bikes well, to which I chuckled at the time. This time I was pretty thorough. The crew poured the bike out of the crash truck, and immediately took it over to the pit hose and started the douche. For me, I am lucky to say that all I got was a bit of rug burn on the inside of my right elbow.

When the abused SV was brought out from it's cleansing, we started to look over the damage. Shattered wind screen, sheared fairing stay, exploded dash, sheared front brake banjo bolt, wasted right side handlebar, bent right slider bolt (motor mount still looks okay), double-back rear brake lever, slight scrapage on the pipe, knee in the gas tank syndrome and crackage and general stress in the upper fairing. The swingarm slider again saved major damage, to the pipe, and the rear axle and swingarm. The bike looks pretty straight, and we'll have to pull the forks and roll them to see if they're still straight, but it looks like they are. At any rate, while it looks a mess (and it is), she's not dead! While we perform our inspection, the race ends unceremoniously...

So what's next? I say we throw a Some Clowns Racing banquet, celebrate the fun we had, and get ready for next year! Thanks everyone, for the help at the track, and your friendship in life - this is what living is all about.

As a follow-up, we managed to finish 4th in class (of 6), and 10th overall (of 14). Not bad since it included two crashes!

Portland 4 Hour Endurance Race