Sorry for the belated report. I did make it out to the AHRMA Bushy Ranch VMX in Canby, CA on Oct 1st. Before I get to far into it I have to say that I don’t think they could have found a better place for the event. Sure it’s a bit of a trek but it was more than worth it and the fam and I got to see some beautiful country we’d yet to see since moving to NorCal.
Ed, thanks for confirming I could pull the batt and electrical plug, it made much easier knowing I didn’t have to worry about it (the batt or key) jumping ship on me and lightening the bike no doubt helped.
I signed up online to race the Classic 125 Novice and was glad I did, not only did it save me a few bucks but it was one less thing to do on a very cold morning. After unloading all the assorted implements of destruction, tools and the bike, it and I were off to tech inspection. Tech was a breeze, thanks to the sage wisdom provided by this forum, but I got a few chuckles when I told them that the Wombat was my daily driver and I rode it to work that Friday ( two days before). Also, there was more than one person that told me that things might get interesting with trials tires, albeit they were aired down.
I was able to get in on practices 1 and 4, normally 4 is restricted but they took pity on after I explained that I got a bit confused on how practices were organized. My class was racing in moto #6 so after practice I had some time to look the bike over, surprisingly all it needed was the exh nut tightened.
Just to reiterate that I had only two goals: finish the race and don’t break the bike or rider.
When my time came I was surprised that there were only about 10 riders on the starting line, but there was also 2 other Hodaka, less traffic didn’t seem like too bad of thing
. So, with tension building, throttles opening to a cacophony of noise and a screen of smoke, the starter with his number plate getting ready to send us off. He pointed to each of us, flipped the number plate from 2 to ... the band released and... everyone left me at the line
. It all happened that fast. So, alone and feeling like an idiot I set of for my first race and that’s about the time I got this crazy idea in my head that I wasn’t going to finish last. About half way through the first lap I turned around saw Alec, a younger guy I’d met on the starting line riding his grandfather’s Road Toad, hot on my tail. Apparently I didn’t see that he got off the line about the same time that I had and after seeing Alec, I felt like I had to step it up to keep him from overtaking me. I held him off for about a lap but he passed me about 1/2 way through the 2nd lap and despite my best efforts he kept gaining distance on me. Well until the final lap when sadly fueling issues brought him to a halt. In a sense I didn’t finish last but I road my tail off, so just finishing was satisfying.
After the race I caught up with Alec and his (I believe grandfather) Vint, on a DS with a SR engine, (together we made out the Hodaka contingent at this meeting)to say hi, check out his bike. Oddly enough, Alec’s bike was running again too. It was a short chat because they had another race coming up quick. So, back to the pit to check the bike over.
Again, the exhaust nut needed attention and the rear tubes valve stem decided it wanted to view the world from a wonky angle too. Turns out the rear rim lock wasn’t entirely snug and the tire, along with tube, spun on the rim. I’ve had it happen before but it looked like it would be ok. All done I went off to walk around, visit the loo and check out some bikes, too.
On finishing one of the aforementioned
I had the pleasure to meet Joe, he intercepted me on the way back to the truck, on a very fine Husqvarna. He caught me off guard when he called me by name, but it turns out Joe’s a member of the forum (unfortunately, I didn’t get his screen name but I think he might chime in after reading this), had saw this post and just wanted to wish me luck, tell me he was glad to see that I made it out and see how things were going. Talk about cool! Joe and everyone I spoke too were great, warm, welcoming.
On getting back to the pit a nice fellow that befriended me the night before at the hotel in Alturas, named Michael, saw me packing up and wanted to know what I was doing. After a rather short conversation I was made aware I had another race to run. Well, hell! I didn’t know that but I was damn glad to hear it... I don’t think the kids were as happy about it. Lucky he stopped me before the bike was in the truck and everyone knew I was an idiot looking to quit!
So after unpacking and making it look as though I was just tidying things up
... I turned to the Wombat and decided to stiffen up the preload on the rear shocks, grab a bite to eat and before I knew it it was time for me to line up again. I kept telling myself that I just need to race my own race... but when the band released I forgot all about that idea and went full tilt. I did get a better start and Alec was behind me again. Now the grass was dry and I was sliding everywhere and seemed to find traction just in the nick of time to make the turn. It didn’t take long before Alec (on the RT) passed me as I was sliding like Clark Grizzwald into the first right hairpin and so it went all through the first lap. I don’t know if I was getting tired but the Wombat didn’t bomb along like it did in the first race, I actually had to throw the poor little thing around and I was still loosing distance. On the second lap I went over my head, literally! I high-sided on tight left, I lost traction while leaning hard left and all the sudden the rear hooked up and in an instant I was ass over elbows, sky-ground-sky-ground. I popped back up pretty quick, adrenaline will do that to you, looked behind me (all was clear), luckily, I got to the still running Wombat before the corner worker at which point it decided to die and then I had to think... The bike looked good after I got it up, she’d gained a bit more dirt in some odd places but all seemed good, gas lines attached, had brake and clutch, throttle snapped back... so found neutral quick, luckily, she lit up on the first kick and we were off again. That’s about the time the pain hit. My right thumb was killing me and the right side of my knee was throbbing like a pimple faced teenager’s heart at a high school dance. It was at that point my strategy changed back to square one, just finish the race. The last two laps were a mix of pain and pleasure in equal measure... with a few pucker moments thrown in when that rear tire decided to surprise me and do its job. You may think that’s all and I just limped in to last place... and so did I until on the end of the third lap when I saw Alec, yet again, stopped with that fueling issue. So, I rode on to finish and not last... by technicality yet again, but I’ll take it. When it’s your first race meeting you can’t get too picky.
As it turns out my race day was now officially done and I asked several nice people just to make sure. At which time Alec was nice enough to offer to show me the Cross Country Course that they’d raced on the day before. If I recall correctly it was about 6 miles and was a great course, quite tight and technical in some spots. I could just imagine how crazy it could be in a race and how much of a beating a little bike might take hauling a big guy like me through it. After a lap of that course I was beat and went back to the truck to pack up.
Soon after that I strolled up to the registration tent to buy a T-shirt, I did it after all and needed the proof. Unfortunately, they were out of my size but as a consolation I found out after a short discussion that I trophied. After finishing both races and the “small” fact that I was the ONLY person racing my class, so by default and to my surprise I took first place. Vint took first in the 100cc Intermediate class and Alec took third. All and all not a bad day out.
Oh and I found out why the Wombat didn’t feel the same in the second race. While trying to stiffen up the preload on the stock shocks I only succeeded in turning them the wrong way and softening them. Oh well, you live and you learn.