Top 10 Things I Learned From Club Racing

Motorcycle racing is an inherently foolish activity. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Dressing in a leather suit, going out to a remote track to bake in the middle of the summer (or shiver in the winter), riding a fundamentally unstable machine around in circles as fast as it and the your capability will allow – while simultaneously pouring buckets of money into other people’s pockets – is ridiculous. And dangerous.

Racing is also incredibly fun. And educational. I consider the five years I club-raced to be one of the high points of my motorcycle riding career. I made some great friends, challenged beliefs about myself and my riding ability, improved my riding skills, and created amazing memories. How many people can say they’ve caught on fire from sliding through burning fuel at 90 mph? What can top watching sparks fly off the pegs of the bike in front of you in a high-speed corner at 3:00 am? Or being able to tell who was running race gas just by the smell while dragging knee only a foot or so away from their exhaust? Good times.

Given the number of people traveling at such high speeds and their closeness during the activity, I was actually surprised how few people got seriously hurt. Let’s not kid ourselves, grave injury or death are always a possibility on the track. Still, it’s relatively rare, thankfully. Regardless, spend enough time on the racetrack, and you will get hurt. My injuries were minimal: bruises, sprained joints, and second-degree burns on my neck and part of my face. (The photo above shows the rubber from the rear tire of the bike that burst into flames after I collided with it.) I also got to be teased by my friends when they came around the track the lap after one crash in the rain to see the EMT on her knees in front of me, prodding my crotch while attempting to ascertain whether my bike’s efforts to penetrate me anally with a footpeg had done any damage.

Of all the minor injuries I suffered, the sprained thumb took the longest to recover because I was constantly using it – including racing the day after the crash. Wearing quality gear and being fit help to minimize injuries, and training helps keep you from burning out in longer races.

The start of a race is extremely hectic, but it is also the easiest time to make up positions in an event. Everyone begins on equal footing, and at the club level, good clutch management can move a rider from as far back as the third row to challenge for the holeshot. When I was racing, I also went to the dragstrip a couple times a month to generate the quarter-mile times for every bike tested for my job at Motorcycle Cruiser. As a direct result, I often got good starts. So good, in fact, that a friend told me a couple of the guys were thinking about protesting me, assuming that I had a cheater engine. I was flattered, but once I shared my dragstrip testing routine, they decided to use their protest money on the practice start sessions held at the end of Saturday practice.

The importance of a bad start can’t be ignored, either. One race, the class leader was absent, leaving me, second in the points, to start from the pole. I absolutely craved a win in this race because it would allow me to almost catch the first-place rider (who, truth be told, was a much stronger racer than me). Naturally, I botched the clutch release and ended up flat-footed on the line with my bike on its rear wheel in front of me. Running and jumping on a moving bike in full leathers is an unbelievable experience. The only reason I didn’t enter Turn 1 in last place was that my shenanigans had spooked some of the riders behind me and caused them to roll out of the throttle.

Some people cheat to gain an advantage. Others do it because it’s just a little bit easier or cheaper than following the rules. I cheated out of vanity. The rules governing Lightweight Superstock required a factory tailsection. I, however, didn’t like the look of the bike with the number plates zip-tied over the seat. So, I put on an aftermarket one-piece tailsection. I then told my competitors (most of us pitted in the same area) how I was cheating and why. I asked them to do me the courtesy of telling me if they were going to protest the bodywork so that I could take it off. They all joked that, if my tailsection was why I beat them, something was really wrong. We were there for the fun of racing.

You’ve spent the last week getting the bike prepped. Maybe you did some dyno tuning or made some suspension upgrades you can’t wait to sample. On race day, when you show up at the track, it starts to rain. Your bike is shod with slicks. Of course, you’re going to pop the $300 for a set of rain tires. Your friend got the last set of rains? Okay, intermediates will have to do. Then there’s the trackside dyno – or the official track photographer’s booth. Put your credit card under lock and key…

So, you’ve arrived back at your pit in the crash truck, and there’s only one race before your next one. Despite being a bit wobbly from the impact, you’ll jump right in to start replacing any broken levers. The zip-ties and duct tape will make the bodywork passable, or you’ll just remove it. The box of spares you’ve acquired from your frequent, habitual trips to salvage yards will be dumped open in the truck bed and scavenged – all while standing on a foot that can barely support your body weight. That same foot will remain tucked up on the peg while your bike is re-teched, but you’ll tell them you’re keeping it out of the way so they can inspect the belly pan. Somehow, you’ll find yourself in pre-grid with just a few seconds to wonder what the hell you’re doing before the flag drops and you head out for your warm-up lap.

You know who will be doing a bunch of the wrenching when you’re putting your bike together after a crash? The same guys who were out there when you hit the deck and will be out in the next race with you – if they can get your bike back together in time. Or maybe it’s the team down pit row that happens to have a spare CBR600 axle that has the same thread pitch as the rotor you’re trying to remove from a fragged engine during a 24-hour race. Then there are the racers you’ve never met before who come over to offer you spare stock parts because they’ve learned you’re trying to fix an ill-handling Grom during a different 24-hour race. You can sort out the return or payment for them when the race is over. Racers are as generous as they come – until the flag drops. Then it’s every man for himself.

The first time someone crashes in front of you is a huge shock. If you’re lucky, they’ll be close to you and just outside on the turn. That way, one moment they are there; the next they aren’t. When the person who crashes is a bit in front of you and you’ve been in the progress of reeling him in, your instinct will be to watch the rider and bike slide away. Don’t do it. Unless you really want to follow them off the track. Learning to spot the first signs of target fixation and break it with a conscious thought to look where you want to go will help you on both street and track for the rest of your motorcycling career.

As I said at the beginning of this top-10 list, my years racing are among my favorite motorcycling memories. I’ve logged tons of hours on exotic sportbikes on the track, but much of it pales in comparison to the races on my EX500 (or even that ill-handling Grom last year). I’ve never been tempted to race my R6, the entry fee for making it competitive in its class would be too high – and there are kids with dreams (not dads with jobs) racing them. MO contributor Gabe Ets-Hokin wrote a great piece about the joys of riding a slow bike fast, and I have to concur.

Yeah, saying I raced an EX500 was never gonna get me laid, but I’ll never forget spending those days sweating inside my leathers, going bar-to-bar with guys I liked and trusted. The fact that we rarely got over 120 mph doesn’t really matter. We were at our and our bikes’ limits on the track. Of course, off the track we were doing what racers do best. We were swapping stories and reliving the moments of just a few minutes earlier – complete with sound effects and wild hand gestures. What could be better than that?