Here's a pretty classic shot of me getting out of the gates just in front of everyone else. Some call that the holeshot, but now they say that you have to come out of the first corner in 1st place to get that title.
Damn straight bitches!! Check out them outriggers!
It was brutally hot, with only a breeze to keep things from getting entirely wicked. I even had a sponsor that day, Kellie Berger Insurance Agency.
Either the riders were being stupid, or the track was brutal, but we went through 6 or 7 ambulances (I lost count at 6) throughout the day. Not to mention the people who got slinged or splinted up and sent in via their own vehicles. The EMT's were having a good time I guess, but they are all pretty twisted in the head.
For myself, the first moto went awesome. I came through the first corner in 3rd place, beating one of the faster bikes. She made a clean pass through the next straightaway, but I was still ahead of two other chicks, one that is usually very tough competition. 4th out of 6 for that moto.
The second moto started poorly. I picked a gate, then the chick from last place (beginner rider on a 150 4-stroke) took the gate right beside me. She wheelied into me, which kinda makes it hard to maintain a straight line. After a little contact, and some wild outrigger placements, we both kept things upright. Unfortunately those little 150s need less shifting, so my moment of clutching to get back in the power was all the moment she needed to hold the throttle WFO and beat me by a wheel into the first corner.
That kinda screwed up my line because I was hauling up behind her and had to take the outside, where it was chewed up and cross rutted. She got me by a wheel into the next corner too, but that at least had a little more room, so I launched over the double and didn't see her for the rest of the moto.
The chick that is usually tough competition was hard as hell to catch. She's on the same bike I am, but freshened and tuned up like hell. Not to mention she's 14 and weighs about as much as Harry's left wrist, whereas my boobs and ass, and love of beer have me struggling a little more.
Nevertheless, I was hauling ass, and the track was pretty smoothed out by the quads, so I caught up to her during the 2nd to last lap. It was some damn good close racing. I would catch up to her in the straights and hit the corners harder, but she comes out of them faster than I do, because she gets regular practice in at the track, whereas I show up to a race, get in my 3 hotlaps, and that's all the practice I get.
Coming up to the last two corners, I was finally able to make a move, and passed her over a set of nice floaty jumps that I feel pretty damn comfortable launching off of, whereas she doesn't like big jumps. I planned on railing the outside line of a nice berm to try hold speed (it was the faster line of the day) but she cut the inside and block passed me back. I nearly T-boned her, but stuffed out an outrigger and laid things way over to cut inside. She had the faster line, but I gave it hell and we went over the finishline tabletop with her front wheel only a few inches in front of mine.
I came in 5th overall for the day, which I don't mind because I had a damn fun race.
Wolfie the last time i race a MX i was bout 15 or 16 and it was on a RM100. It had bosen reeds,fox air shocks in the rear, RM125 front forks and i cant remember the pipe it had. But that ol turd was a running beast. Thanks for the flood of good memories, just remember.....Ride It Like Ya Stole It!!!!!!!!!!!!
Trust in the Father Son and Holy Ghost!
Question all others!
Mopar and Polaris!
Last weekend's race was canceled due to the track being underwater. So I was bummed...
Either way, yesterday's race had me feeling mostly underprepared and rusty. Practice was actually kinda fun, since Brooks is a sandy as hell track, but it was very watered down and firm and pretty flat. There was some major big Wolfie air to be had! The tabletop finishline jump is pretty huge, and I was hitting it in 5th gear (I only have 6) which made for some fucking sweet air time! I was going so high, I should've done tricks or whips, but I was too scared and too busy looking down to see how far away the ground was (it usually makes me feel badass, but this was so badass I was scared).
The landings all hurt like hell, and I nearly bounced my boobs off...Might be time for a compression shirt, and a few less beers during the week. I'm getting too fat for my little bike.
I also decided to try doubling the triple that they have in the back corner of the track. It was kinda fucking terrifying because it really kicked things up in the air a lot more than I figured it would. I even got that levitate-ey sensation that kinda tickles and makes my nipples hard. Then I smashed into the face of the last jump that makes up the triple. That hurt.
The first moto sucked, I was slipping my clutches right at the start, but either I flinched, or my shit suddenly decided to hook up because I lurched forward nearly into the gate before it dropped. About the time (a millisecond later) when the gate did drop, I had the lever pulled almost all the way in. So, of course I dropped it because it was go time.
Beings as it was go time, and I let things loose just a little too fast, my bike decided to stand straight up on the back wheel...oops. I didn't crash, but it did take some neat outrigger placements to keep me from going completely over backwards. Since I had to let off in order to recover, I was second to last into the first corner.
I passed a chick through the next corner and over a jump, then started hunting down the next two broads ahead of me. That didn't go as great, since I damnnear ploughed into them when they had troubles going through a corner. Since the only two packed lines were filled, I had to make my own 3rd line. That didn't go so great either. Once out of the packed areas, I mostly fishtailed instead of going anywhere in the forward direction despite a fair number of upshifts.
This happened in damn near every corner until I got too tired from taking all the hard ways through the corners, and dropped back a few bike lengths on the last lap. I was a little disappointed because I was close enough to tag their rear fenders if I cared to stick out a paw, but couldn't make it through the corners well enough to get 'em. 6th out of 8.
Moto 2 swung around pretty quick, and I was back to sweating at the gates again. This time, when the yellow light came on, my braaper decided that it wouldn't go in gear despite all my frantic stomping. Something was not working great in there, but I figured it was just my imagination. About a half second before things went green, I felt the positive click, and managed to get a half decent start with no gigantic wheelies.
I came into the first corner in 4th place, just behind the three faster 250 chicks. I was pretty stoked because that meant I was in front of the other chick on the 250, who had beat me in the first moto. I figured I could rage through the straights as fast as I wanted, which was pretty fast, I even figured out the proper speed to hit the triple, so I could double it without smashing into the face of the last jump.
Things weren't all perfect, since I seemed to be missing a lot of shifts. It got worse as the next couple laps went by. About the time I went to double the triple again, things didn't mesh just before the face of the jump, and I nearly shit myself because I was about to coast a double, that required full throttle in 3rd or 4th gear.
Time did that sci-fi thing, where it slows down and you actually have time to think about the really bad shit that's about to happen to you, and how bad that bad shit is going to hurt. In this case, in less than 5 milliseconds, I was about to go over the handlebars, cartwheel the bike and myself into the face of the second jump, and probably go over that to smash into the face of the third, where hopefully I'd stop with the bike hopefully not landing on me.
I wasn't too worried about the rider behind, since I had gotten a little room by going through the corners damn slow so as not to get out of the ruts (she was hitting them hard and raging through soft tractionless depths of loamy sand). Then I was thinking about the last four times that I had heard of people going over the handlebars. 2 broken backs, and two busted legs. That really gave me the "OH SHIT" feeling.
About that time, my front wheel was over the lip of the jump, and was diving down like someone had attached a 50 pound weight to my front wheel. Then a tiny voice said "maybe if you just yank really..." I yanked up with an almighty desperation before tiny voice finished saying whatever the hell it was going to say.
I don't know how it worked, but I saved it. The landing was so hard that I have little marks on the chin of my helmet from smashing it into the handlebars, and a few bruises on my boobs from smashing myself into the handlebars a split second later.
It hurt a bunch, it knocked the wind out of me, but I didn't go down. I did lose time, and the 250 behind me gained a couple lengths of distance. Shifting was pretty sucky, but I figured as long as I could keep moving, and not go down, I could hold her off. I did this by staying in the ruts. I could still shift, but it took 3 or 4 tries to gain a gear. Luckily, I saw the white flag, and only had one lap left.
I kept things rubber side down that lap, stayed in the ruts, and stayed ahead of the chick. 4th out of 8.
4th overall for the day.
Now it's time to go see if I have a bent shift fork.
Raged around on the bike on friday night to establish whether or not I had a bent shift fork. Things seemed to be okayish, so I loaded up and headed out the next morning.
The casino track is one of my favorites, and not too far from home so I felt pretty confidant in showing up. In fact, conditions were perfect except for two mud holes that really kicked my ass. (Hey...my footpegs were scraping through the mud...so my ass was kicked for sure). My motos were 3rd to last of the day, so it was a long as hell day waiting around. Thankfully, it was nice and cool so chilling was easy, and I even took a nap.
They had changed the track some, but not super radically. They turned a low tabletop into two tabletops that kinda served as a double for the big bikes (separated the little bikes from the big bikes for sure). A lot of the C class riders didn't even try hitting that, because all things considered, it as a pretty damn big gap as far as our tracks go.
First moto had me feeling kinda lonely at the gates as the only 2-stroker on the line. In fact, I was up agains 6 250 riders, and the usual 150 rider chick. That didn't last long since I actually got a pretty badass start. I rode a pretty fucking cool start down to the first corner on my back wheel. (I love doing that!!!) I believe I was tied in 3rd place through the first corner, and even 4th place through the second corner, which is not shabby at all for me and my little bike.
Then I got passed by one bike through the next rhythm section...then it was a pretty tame race. I was about a corner and half a straight section in front of the bikes behind me, so there was room enough to just chill and work on riding techniques, and try a few new lines.
I figured I'd try hitting a double (the only other double on the track) a little harder, which I kinda hit too hard. If I wouldn't have had a helmet on, I could've kissed my handlebar pad for sure, beings as it did smack me in the face quite suddenly once I became airborne. For such a little bike, that thing really can bring the front end up in a hurry.
I considered bailing off, but had time to consider how bad that would hurt, so I decided to see what riding it out might do, beings as dumping the bike would probably bust off a lever, and bend my handlebars up. It was an ugly bounce, and I wheelied off the track with my toes dragging in the dirt (man I hope someone got a picture!!), but I didn't dump the bike.
I decided not to hit that double so hard again. Even most of the big bikes don't clear it, so I have no idea what I was thinking. I didn't even lose a spot, so I came in ahead of two 250s and that 150. Not too shabby, but I felt gypped from the usual close competition I have.
I did some more napping, then it rained halfway through the 2nd set of motos. The track went back to fucking perfect conditions, and less dusty to watch! Soon we were sitting at the gates again, with more showers looming in the distance, and I made a bet with one of the racer dads that showed up that we'd get rain while the ladies were out on the track.
Had another good start again, and prettymuch the same thing happened in the 2nd moto as the first. I had time to chill and try new lines. I didn't hit that double again either. I even won 20 bucks since it started raining right after the first corner we hit. I don't ride in the rain real often, but there were some big fatassed drops, and they stung like hell. One of the flaggers showed up after all was said and done, and she said she laughed so hard she cried when she heard me yelling "OW DAMMIT OW!!!" as I passed her corner.
I placed the same, and came out 5th outta 8 for the day, with a good ride under my belt.
Had a shitty week, kept breaking shit, then woke up barely in time to make it to the races on time. It was foggy as fuck, and to top it all off, my trailer had a flat 2/3rds of the way to the races that morning.
I called the organizer's up and said I'd be late, and probably wouldn't make hotlaps, but said they should register me anyways. I started calling around to see if anyone could bring me a spare, or borrow me a pickup just to get me rolling, but all the pickups at my disposal (my bro's beat up 89 chevy) was not in commission. The dad figured he'd be able to find me a spare wheel, so we started calling around on that deal.
I called up my boss, beings as he has three trailers sitting in his yard, and his wife answered. She promptly announced that he was still in bed, and proceeded to wake him despite my protests. The first words I hear:
"You only call with bad news."
I did my best to make it short and quick. "I have a flat tire on my trailer, do you have a spare my dad can pick up and bring to me?" Instead of asking me what kind of wheel I needed, he just asked where I was, which was a good 15 miles out of town, and said "I'll be right there." Then he hung up while I was trying to explain that my dad was on his way to come help me out. My dad called about five minutes or so later, to let me know that he'd found a spare wheel, and that he'd be able to have it to me in about 45 minutes give or take.
Then he tried to ask where I was, and when I told him quite clearly, he got fairly pissed and told me that I was going the wrong way, and could've saved a bunch of miles taking another road. I attributed it to one of those "not speaking the same language" things that generally happens so early in the morning. It took about ten minutes to explain that I was indeed on the road that I was on. (Turns out that he thought I was headed to a different track, and I didn't pick up on this).
Just as the message got across, a familiar pair of headlights pulled in behind me. It was my boss, arriving in record time, and not only did he bring his duty truck with a full stock of kickass tools, he brought our brand new aluminum work trailer. He also had the presence of mind to bring the right size ball for my hitch. "I figure this will just get you on the road faster."
The switchover took less than six minutes. He rolled my trailer into the ditch, and pulled off the wheel with the flat so my dad wouldn't have to drive all the way out there to get it. I was rolling again in less than a half hour. While I was too late for hotlaps, I was sure to get there in time for my first moto. This was especially important because I'm in a damn close points race for season championship. Which my boss pointed out and said I'd better get my ass moving instead of staying to help pull the wheel off the trailer.
I have the best boss ever.
When I pulled into the track pit area, shit was dead silent. I figured they must be playing the national anthem, or waiting to send out the first set of motos, or maybe someone was down on the track and they were waiting for that. Then the lady at the gates said they had held off hotlaps due to fog. They joked that my arrival should part the fog like Moses parting the sea. Five minutes after I had parked, the announcer came on and said hotlaps would start in five minutes.
I had plenty of time to unload and gear up! I wasn't late at all!
The track was about perfect conditions, and I just goofed around during practice while I rode. Doing wheelies down the straights, hopping through the whoops instead of raging through them, sticking my foot way the hell out on each corner even though I didn't really even need the counterbalance, and raging over the finishline tabletop as hard as I could just to see what kind of air time I could get.
I came off the track still floating on cloud nine. Fucking love these race days!
Moto 1 was cool, I got a kinda shitty start, but I stayed on the tail of my competition, and she finally got pressured enough that she made a mistake in a corner. I took the opportunity to sail by, and didn't see her the rest of the race. I got 4th out of 6, and had expected 5th for sure. She has been consistently beating me on this track for the entire season.
Moto 2 started out kinda scary. I picked my spot, and my competition (801 as you'll see in a sec) pulled in to the gate beside me. I had a 250 on the other side, and in reality, our handlebars were all of 2-3 inches apart. This doesn't leave much room for a fuckup. When the light went green, and the gate dropped, there was a fuckup.
See the chick in the white/pink helmet with yellow boots? I'm just to her left, and slightly behind. Notice that the bike on my other side is not totally in control either. I had a less than awesome start, and for a little while, I figured that 801's front wheel was prettymuch the only thing in my field of vision, and I figured it would hit me squarely in the upper body, and take me to the ground.
I am really hard to see in these pics, you can only pick out the parts of my bike...
Here's the result:
My wheel is about a foot behind the other wheels in this line. Her wheel just missed me by a centimeter. There is no way I should've made it through that mess, but I did, and it was badass.
Even better was the fact that I stuck with those big bikes through about 3 sections. Normally they are gone before the second corner. Then the rider in front of me stalled in a corner, and I got past her. I got a long ways past her. She caught up in about a half lap, but right when she was about to pass me, there was a yellow flag. I was in second place, and pretty fucking stoked, so I cranked on the go, and went. She passed me in the whoops (bigger bike advantage, damnit). But I hung on her tail until she actually fucked up again, and I passed her again. It was some damn good racing on my part, and people on the sidelines were getting kinda stoked for me.
All the flaggers were waving me on and holding up two fingers to let me know that I had better haul ass for all I was worth. I finally got passed in a long straight section on the last lap, and couldn't get it back (damn 250s). But overall it was a 3rd out of six riders, with a damn ride put on by this underdog!
Sweet again! Nothing like waking up on a raceday. We have another race this coming Sunday but I'm unsure if I'll be able to run or not. My quad is in the shop with problems I couldnt' figure out. Anyways, congrats on a kickass raceday!
"Do not go where the path may LEAD, go instead where there is no path and leave a TRAIL"
Originally Posted by Rubi
Nobody on this site likes Ski Doo except Dirty Harry, and he's better at making babies than buying or fixing sleds, so you don't want to listen to him.
I've had some pretty fricking good races these past two weeks. Last week at the casino had us at the gate with 11 riders (a record for us). And I managed to pull a 5th place, also beating a chick that had forever promised to whup my little ass. Given, she hadn't been on a bike for a year, but she was still fast enough, and had enough practice that I had to work pretty damn hard to get around her on that 125. The next moto, she borrowed someone's 250, so I figured I was really screwed, but I beat her into the first corner and didn't hear or see her after the 2nd corner.
Yesterday was fucking epic! Larimore is a track that is built into/using a hill, kinda like a mini Millville for those of you who have ever visited it. But it was foggy as fuck when I got there, so we had to delay practice. Also, half the track was standing water.
I signed up anyways thinking the worst that would happen is I'd have to get off and push, or that they'd call the race and I'd get my jing back. As we looked over the track, and the fog stuck around, about 1/4 of the racers pulled out and/or left right after the drivers meeting. Finally, the fog lifted enough and we sent out the big quads to dry up the track.
Four of 'em got stuck in the first corner. Once that got unjammed, they couldn't make it up the hill. It was funny as shit, but it also gave me the "oh shit" feeling, since it wasn't exactly a steep hill. Finally, they pulled them off and started modifying the track a little. They pushed a ton of the mud off (they'd been doing that damnnear all night), and cut off that uphill loop, and shortened a couple corners. Then they sent out the quads again. They barely made it through, but things looked more hopeful.
Then they sent out the big bikes. Only 20 of them showed up to practice out of the 50 or more that were there. This was pretty shitty because they didn't want to get their bikes dirty or ride in the mud, but we needed them to make a few lines and dry things out faster.
Then they sent the women out. This was pretty comical because I don't think I've ever ridden in such muddy conditions before, without any sort of a rut to follow. I rolled with it though, and hauled out of the practice line on my back wheel just to show that I wasn't a pussy. I made the first couple turns okay, then things got silly.
I had reached the lower half of the track, and there wasn't a single line to be found. It was all cross rutted, and slick clay. My rear wheel kept swinging out at some random moments, and turning the front wheel didn't do jack shit. My poor braaper just pushed through, mostly sideways and not quite in the direction I wanted to go.
I finally got partially up on a berm (bike wanted to go there I guess) and I lost enough momentum that I was fully stopped in 2nd gear wide open. That's a pretty funny feeling. I took the power away, and idled for a moment to evaluate my situation, and just what the fuck I should try next. Go seemed like a good idea so I dumped it into first and eased the clutch and tried to walk things out. My back wheel whipped down hill and now I was facing the berm at a 90 degree angle.
At this point, I was laughing my ass off, because things were getting plain old silly. With a "well fuck it." I decided to ride up over the berm and ride on the grass to get around the corner. That failed, and I finally started tipping. I tried to save it, but it was muddy enough that my foot slipped out too, and I found myself laying flat out in the mud with my bike.
It was a little struggle picking the bike up, since it was about 50 pounds heavier than normal with all the mud I'd acquired. They had about 4 guys on wheelers raging around to help all the riders out, but I was back on top of things by the time one of them got to me. I made the rest of the lap with a bunch of near crashes, still going almost sideways through the entire track.
I dumped it the next lap in the same damn place. This time the guy was waiting for me, and I let him help since I was getting pretty tired. My hands were already hurting from working the clutch and throttle since there was a stupid amount of shifting and slipping going on to keep things in the powerband. The next lap I made without crashing, which was a friggan' miracle. The three laps I had just made were probably the three hardest laps I've ever done in my life, not to mention that I was the only one who managed to finish all three laps.
I had help pushing my bike back to the pits, but even that guy couldn't get my bike back on the stand with all the mud I'd picked up. It was just that heavy. I documented the mud, then started the long process of scraping it off. It took about an hour.
Long story short is that we raged out for the 1st moto with kinda sloppy conditions, but good ruts. I got a crappy start, and hit the first corner in third, chick on a 250 in first place went down. I raged past the 2nd place chick a few corners later over some jumps, and it was badass.
Turns out I held 1st place and took the checkered flag. I was pretty fuckin' stoked to say the least.
In fact, my sponsor was there and saw it too. She was so excited she even cried a little, which was awkward. Lots of people that I've seen around but never talked to were also stoked for my win. That was pretty cool too.
By the 2nd moto, the track was perfect. I was still so stoked about my win that I didn't care if I went down and couldn't things started and took last. I didn't fall, and I didn't take last, but I sure didn't couldn't catch that 250 chick. She's been handing me my ass all year, so it was to be expected that she'd beat me. I was cool with second, and second is what I got overall for the day.
Kickass end of the season for sure. I usually come out on top somehow
It was stupid muddy, Wolfie won the first moto, and still did kickass in the 2nd moto.
Last edited by DirtylilWolfess : 09-26-2010 at 04:27 PM.
Hard to get pics beings as I don't have a dedicated photographer...But I was lucky enough to be in a few.
Thanks and full credit to #78 Coleby Viskup.
Moto 2 shots.
887 had a little struggle going on here.
Normally I don't wear the pink jersey. It's too big, so I stretched it on over my boob protector/roost guard to try keep it clean since I knew things were going to get really dirty. It's a lot easier to throw that in the wash than try scrape out all the venting holes on the CP. I figger it brought me good luck beings as it was actually a gift.
Last edited by DirtylilWolfess : 09-26-2010 at 08:27 PM.