Thread: Bench Racing: What Has Been Your Favorite Moment Racing

I had a 7 or 8 lap battle (in a 10 lap sprint) with a guy just slightly faster than me in I think my 3rd or 4th race. We passed and re-passed each other what seemed like dozens of times. Towards the end I could see him getting tired, braking earlier and getting sloppy with his body position. I beat him out of stamina. I had so much adrenaline that the fatigue hit me all at once as it wore off in the paddock afterwards. I nearly fell off the bike. I didn't win that race but that is the one I remember most, and that is the high that I crave again.

I almost barfed in my helmet on the cool-down lap a bunch of times.

Our first WERA National edurance race at Road Atlanta (think it was in '95) on a CBR F2. We built the living piss out of the motor to where the thing would rev to redline so fargin' fast it would make your head spin. Another guy actually installed the motor in the bike and I remember asking him more than once if he had primed the CCT (using the stock Honda one, not a mechanical). He assured me he had but on the second lap of first practice Friday morning, he coasted into the pits.

About 20 minutes later a steward walked by and shook his head as I sat there with chunks of valves in one hand and a camshaft in the other.

Long story made short, we replaced the grenaded engine (it had jumped time due to a non-primed CCT) with a tired stock engine that we brought down (just in case), rode on the ragged edge for three hours and placed on the podium in class, and respectable overall. Just for shits and grins, we rolled the bike over to the dyno test going on in the parking lot the next day and laughed when the readout put us at 68 HP.

Also that weekend, we forgot to pack the fire extinguisher required for the pits and Kevin Renzell was kind enough to let us borrow his.

It reminds me of what it's all about - a few twenty-somethings (then) on a non-existent budget, building a bike in a one-car garage at a guy's parents' house and mixing it up with the pros. Doing a respectable job, too.

Mechanicals can really show you how tight knit the paddock can be.

Rebuilding the 929 at Grattan was also one of my most memorable times at the track.

For me it had to be the Twins GTO race in round two of this past season, on my 749R. It was certainly memorable for being my first win ever, but even more so for how it all went down.

I told my buddies that would be trying to signal me along the pit wall that my strategy was simple. If rival Paul (PK) Avery got a great start, I’d just try to hang with him the whole race, and then go for the late-lap pass. On the East track in round one, he had me by a second a lap (which is a ton!), so I knew it was going to be tough. If I got the holeshot, I’d just go like hell and try to hold him off.

Green flag flies, and I grab the holeshot. In a way I was happy – I’m always happy to grab the holeshot – but part of me wished I could just follow him instead of wondering what the heck was going on behind me. Not this time. By turn five, there he was, cutting up the inside on the brakes, but again running wide, only to have me drive past him on the exit. Here we go again. This went on for lap after lap. In the fourth lap, he did it again, but this time kept a tight line and made it stick. Alright, time to just hang with him and see what I could do. He was moving! I was working really hard to stick close to his rear tire. He’d gap me a bit, then I’d close up. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get by him again unless he made a mistake. He did, but it wasn’t quite the mistake I thought it might be.

As we entered the very high speed right-hand turn eight, all I could think about was “Faster, Brian! Faster! You’ve got to stay right on him!” All of a sudden – WHOOSH! Down he went in a high speed lowside, right in front of me! Because the turn opens up right there, he and the bike swept right across my line. I had nowhere to go! Trying hard not to target-fixate, I just tried to avoid running over his head, which seemed to be right in front of my tire. All I could do was veer to the left, right off the track into the dirt. Crap! Now all I could think about (other than hoping PK wasn’t hurt) was how to slow down the bike. There’s a ton of runoff there, but it’s really soft dirt, so braking is almost impossible. I ran a long way, but couldn’t run forever, as there was ultimately a wall or guardrail up ahead that didn’t look very soft or inviting. Using the tiniest bit of front and rear brake as I could, I managed to finally get slowed down, keep the bike upright, and turn around to head back to the track. As I looked toward the track, I saw two bikes speed past – Mike Bunds and Shannon Moham. It just became an entirely different race.

Wondering how my dirty tires would stick in the corners, I set out to chase down the new race leaders. I knew I had a gap before going off track, the question was whether I had enough laps left to catch them. It was tough to be patient, but I knew that I couldn’t catch them in one lap, so I just put my head down and twisted the throttle, trying to take good lines and hit my apexes. After about a lap and a half I finally reeled in Moham, and set out after Bunds, who was still a second or two ahead of me. White flag lap. Last chance to get a first place finish. At turn five, the Black Rock hairpin, I braked really late, took a great line, and shot past him at the exit. He later told me he didn’t think there was any way I’d catch him after seeing me off the track.

I tried not to get too excited, just ride fast and smart and look for that finish line. Five more turns! Finally, there it was. I tucked in, got on the gas, and crossed the checkered flag in first place! Woo-Hoo! My first race win – ever! Oh man, was I pumped. It sunk in about halfway through the cool-down lap, when I found myself shouting “YEAAAHHHHHHH!!” inside my helmet.

Lots of friends were waiting for me in the paddock, with fist bumps, high-fives, and joking about wanting my autograph. It felt incredible.