I Ain't Scared...Just Hooked

By Joe Maher

Like many people, the choice made for my first motorcycle was dictated by factors other that what I wanted. But I never dreamed of the impact that decision would make on me.

It was affordable, first and foremost. The fact that it was a Kawasaki would become relevant later. That fact that it was way fast would be forever relevant. I dreamed of an FXRS-SP, but being just out of high school, my wallet, and the bank, said no. While I am an unapologetic American V-Twin rider at heart, the speed and power of that 750cc, three cylinder, two stroke never left me. Through a bunch of years and a bunch of different bikes, the pictures of Eddie Lawson, Freddie Spencer and Kenny Roberts leaned over through high-speed corners remained permanently imprinted in the back of my mind. Years of watching road racing on TV when I could find it, and going to watch a few races last year got the embers burning brighter.

Finally, after all these years, the decision was made. I decided if I was going to do this I needed to do it now; no putting off any longer. I was going to start road racing. My Road King was going to share garage space with a road-racing bike. When I looked back, there was no choice…I’d be moving a Kawasaki into the garage.

With some searching and help from Motorcycle Roadracing Association (MRA) racers Joe Catalino and Eric Peat, I was off to Iowa for what I thought was my turnkey dream bike: a 2005 ZX-6RR. OK, so it wasn’t really a turnkey bike, and it wasn’t near a dream bike, but the potential was there. So, I got to work. After many hours, help from friends and scraping the bottom of my pockets for cash, while not yet the dream bike, The ZX-6 was finally ready. After a class with Ricky Orlando and a practice day at the track, I was finally ready, too.

Dateline: Pueblo, Colorado, July 9th 2010--It was a practice day for the weekend of my first race. I got out and practiced--without crashing. I managed to turn in lap times of just over two minutes, and was quite pleased with myself, but I am new and slow. The best racers turn lap times in the 1:40’s or lower. I had a long way to go, and this was just the start of the journey.

The next day, July 10th, it was race day. I wasn’t nervous, but very anxious and ready to get going. The pit area was filled with people and bikes. Engines were coming to life, but not with the usual low rumble of the Harley’s I’m used to. Nor was it the high-pitched whining that is often stereotyped with Japanese sport bikes. This was a throaty grumble that warned of horsepower. These bikes were for serious use, with an aggressive growl to them. While my bike was not as pretty as most bikes there that day (I need a paint sponsor), it was one of them.

The folks at the MRA were very helpful and got me signed up quickly. With my racing license in hand and my races selected, I was—well—off to the races. I’d be running four races. My goal: not to crash. I spent the morning in a practice session that gave me even more confidence. My first race was the Novice GTU, a seven-lap sprint. I’d be starting at the back of the grid. Lining up for my first race I was strangely at ease, looking around at the many young, good, experienced, and fast riders. I talking myself bold, “No fear, don’t crash, just finish.”

Off we go. I’m at the back of the pack, and getting further back as the other racers ride away from me. I started feeling better with each turn and each lap. I can feel myself getting faster, and my confidence soars. Soon, I’m hitting 150mph in the back straight.

Then comes lap four turn nine, a 90-degree right-hander. I come in a little hot, and off the track I go. I don’t finish the race, but I don’t crash, either. I head back to the pit area and get the tire warmers on and start prepping for my next race, a 30-minute endurance race.

At the start I’m at the back of the grid again, and I am ready. As I feel my way around the track and follow the line of the better riders I’m feeling better. Then, turn 9 gets me again. I came in too hot again and take it off the track, but this time I managed to get back on the track and continue racing. Once I settled down again, I start feeling better and faster. I am hanging off the bike, dragging my knee on the asphalt, and loving every second. Somewhere in the back of my mind I see myself—I’m the guy on the poster; I’m carving out the perfect line and setting the standard for other racers. It was a nice little flash of a daydream. The wishful thinking is gone when I see the white flag come up, and before I know it, I pass the checkered flag. I finished my first race and my bike and I are in one piece!

Checking on my lap times, I discover not only did I average close to the two-minute mark, but I was under two minutes on two laps. Feeling pretty good about myself, I watch some of the other races in the expert classes. These guys are GOOD, and I eventually want to be able to keep up with them. Inspired, I call it a day.

My Sunday morning practice feels good, as I manage more laps under the two-minute mark. My first race is the Amateur GTU and I feel ready for a good ride. Starting at the back of the grid again, I quickly feel at home carving out turns in the seven-lap race. I’m not falling behind so much, and there are even bikes behind me. Everything feels good.

Lap three turn four: I like this fast corner and feel confident, so I hit the throttle coming out of the corner. Evidently, it was too much too early. The back tire breaks loose and suddenly the bike is gone and I’m sliding on the asphalt.

CRAP!

The bike and I hit the dirt and keep on sliding. Finally, I come to a stop. Nothing hurts and I get up. My investment in good leathers and body armor just paid off. The corner worker and a photographer come over to check me out. Before they can really check me out, I realize my bike is lying in the dirt and run over to check it out. It was pretty clear I was all right, but my bike didn’t fare so well.

Once I got the bike up and looked it over, the damage seemed minor. The belly pan was broke and the brake rear-set was toast. I’m out of this race, but I have two races to get my bike ready for my next scheduled track appearance. Friends who had been watching met me in my pit area, ready to help me repair my bike and get back on the course. My adrenaline was pumping. I needed a new rear-set, so I worked my way to the other side of the pit area and asked a couple people who ride similar bikes. Eric Cromer offers up his, he’s done for the day. I’ve met him once and he readily took the rear-set off his bike and handed it to me. He wished me luck as I sprinted back to my pit. I was going to make it! Zip ties quickly lashed the rear-set into place and I was off to tech inspection for the OK to race again.

Final call for my race came just as I rolled off the inspection ramp ready to race again. This one was another seven-lap sprint, but this time there are only four of us racing and I have the outside position in the front row. The crash was a distant memory and I was totally focused on this race. The lights go off and I find myself in front with the hole-shot. I’ve never been in front before, but I like it! Turn four comes around and I thought about hesitating, but I’m through the turn before hesitation is possible. I’m hitting other corners harder, dragging my knee and going faster. Halfway through the race, another racer who’s been right behind me passes, putting to rest any racing delusions that might have been creeping up on me. I kept up with him for a bit but lost some ground.

Suddenly, I was racing, not just getting around the track. One lap to go…I don’t want to be passed…I concentrate on doing everything right…I’m seeing everything so clearly….

The checkered flag drops as I pass beneath it. I finished in second place! I finished the whole race without crashing or going off the track, in second place to boot. I’m hooked!

I have some things to do before the next race weekend. I’ve learned a lot…mostly that I have a lot to learn. For now, I’m back on the Road King. My heart beats with the big V-Twin and my soul growls with the in-line four. I have found a balance and another way to experience the ride. After all….”It’s all about the ride.”