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General Moto | Off-Topic Posts
Tolle's Finley Race Adventure (June 16th)
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[QUOTE="justalonewolf007, post: 1205778, member: 77294"] Okay, now that cabana boy’s had his cookies made, I’ll try get this report done while he’s happily engaged in NASCAR races… This race occurred near Finley ND, aptly titled “The Race at the Base,” as it was held at the old air base… I finally got serious about my front forks, and was able to pay the rather hefty price of having them professionally redone after receiving my paycheck. I also ordered a new front tire, because having cased the doubles at Greenbush so badly I put a four inch split in the sidewall that was pretty deep. The rest of the tire was pretty weather checked too, so I figured that it was for the best that the little CR got some new front rubber. The dad stepped in and said that he would let me bring the little CR to the shop where he works in order to save me the $150. He’d done the front fork seals on my older brother’s ’97 XR 250 a few years ago, so he figured that the little CR couldn’t be too much different or that much more difficult. He was wrong. We started at about 6pm Thursday night, using a truck lift to raise the front wheel off the ground. We found out the hard way that the frame is tilted, and we had to strap the poor little CR down to the lift. I tried to give the bike some comfort and patted the seat, telling that the tiedown strap was for its own good and that the new fork seals would make it a much happier motorcycle. At this point, the dad caught me talking to the bike and promptly said that I’d have to use my psychology education on myself. Thanks dad. After an hour’s work, mainly reading things over and checking pieces out, I left for an hour for my martial arts class. I love it to death, but some days aren’t as productive as others when it comes to learning new patterns, punches, and movements. This time around, the instructor (a 3rd degree black belt, and only a year older than I am) decided to make it a “fun day.” This essentially included playing a slightly modified version of “king of the hill.” Instead of a hill, we had a mat that was roughly 12’x12’. Instead of choosing one person to push off, it was everyone against everyone. I am the second smallest person there, and although I usually ended up being one of the last four on the mat (out of about 12 or 13), the blackbelts found an easy way to rid themselves of my presence via a “belt slam” as they so descriptively dubbed it. This included being literally seized by my belt, and literally being picked off the ground, and literally being flung in the air to land seven feet off the mat. Everyone excluding myself though this was pretty good sport, and began a “Tolle’ flinging contest” for the rest of the hour. Dazed, tired, sore, and with a torn uniform, I made it back to check on the dad’s progress. We ended up having to fabricate tools in order to get certain pieces apart, which caused several delays. Four hours later, we’d finished the first fork. The fork fluid was incredibly low, and very very dirty, but luckily there was no scoring or scratches inside any of the tubes. We figured that after spending 6 hours on the first fork, that we could have the second done in an hour. As things generally tend to run, we ended up spending three hours on it. At this point, it was 3am, and we had successfully finished despite the fact that we were both completely clueless as chickens without heads (kinda – we did have the owner’s manual for guidance, it was not so terribly guiding). The tire arrived late, so Friday evening I scampered out to the farm with the little CR in tow. The tire went on far too easily with the help of the dad. My little CR was almost a new bike! As it was getting late, I left the bike at the farm and went to catch up on some much needed rest. I woke up early, hoping to get to the track by about 8am. It was supposed to be an hour’s drive from the farm, which made it roughly 1.5 hours from my apartment. I was 30 minutes late starting out, and became even later as I was defeated by the manual overhead door to the shed that was babysitting my little CR. Even the Aieyahs didn’t work this time, and I managed to give myself a muscle cramp in my back. Luckily, my older brother was home, and with the aide of the beloved family dachshund (loves to jump around on sleeping bodies and will do anything for a treat), I roused him from his state of unconsciousness. Well, at least he was somewhat roused. His speech patterns told me otherwise, but as long as I kept him pointed towards the shed, we made pretty good progress for it being that early in the morning. Finally I was on my way, and the trip ended up being blessedly uneventful. I showed up: By the time I arrived, it was a gorgeous day, and I picked a parking spot that seemed to be pretty close to where the starting gates were. I registered and got in a few laughs with the ladies that work as counters. Somehow they have some sort of joke going about who can remember my name the most times. I am called everything from Brittney to Betty, yet, anything but Bethany, which is my first name. For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to have “Tolle’” put on my bike, jersey, and chest protector. It’s my nickname, and more commonly used by everyone because no one seems to remember my first name. I unloaded the bike to find two familiar quads parked on either side of me. One was the rider who helped me get over the doubles at Greenbush, while the other was the quad dad who kept talking about his kid’s good equipment and machinery. Again, I had to explain my lack of fans and pit crew, then went to check out the rather discombobulating lay of the land. I walked the track: I finally found the starting gates, which felt like they were a half mile away, then began my journey around. First off after the gates came a wide sweeping turn, which led into a tighter, nicely bermed corner. Coming out of this was another corner that led directly into the whoops. At first these seemed pretty intimidating, but they were rather spread out, so I felt that I’d be able to navigate them without too much trouble. I was nervous because of the new rubber and front fork adjustments. I had no idea what the little CR had in mind for me that day, but I was determined to make it around. The whoops led into a nice mid-width turn that gave a decent run-up on a very user friendly double. In fact, it was much like a tabletop…only…it was a double. That led directly into a bermless turn which only had a short run-up on a rather strange looking obstacle. It looked like result of someone trying to breed the almighty Cooperland step-up with a….single whoop. It was a mini step-up, and rather befuddling to my senses. I had no idea how to approach it, let alone clear it. Thus, I put it on my list of jumps to roll. Following that was a slight curve that led into a very small rhythm section that I felt confident in clearing. That led into a tight turn with a pretty tall and steep ramp. Essentially it was a 6’ drop-off. It was another jump added to my list of jumps to roll. Coming down from the drop off was a short straight section with one very low table top, a speed bump, then the finish-line table top that looked very user friendly as well. Then I saw *IT.* I got scared: The sight instantly put that ominous “DUN DUN DUN DUN” sound effect in my head. When I tried to say “holy crap” it came out “holy gap!” in a terrified squeak. I tried walking up the face of *IT,* only to have my boots slide completely out from under me. I leapt to my feet hoping none of the hot guys standing around had seen me go down, but they had, so I grinned and took a quick bow just for the sake of being a goon. Although the act served to slightly lessen my fear of *IT,* I was still in amazement as I counted steps. Thirty. *IT* was thirty feet! EEH! Thirty feet of straight downness! EEEHH!! “I counted wrong!! EEH it CAN’T be that big!” One of the quad riders saw me standing there, still blinking at *IT.* “Must be your first gap. Thirty feet is pretty scary the first time over it” By the look that accompanied it I was pretty sure that he knew that I was a rather new rider AND that I was a girl (okay, so that last bit was pretty obvious because I was wearing a nice little tank). I was going to come up with a smart reply, but I could only nod. He only stood there until I finally managed to squeak out “I should’ve hired a pit crew or at least fans to pick up the pieces of my body and bike when I case this thing.” “You’re alone eh?” “Ah, yea. I am. First season racing, so no sponsors, fans, or pit crew yet.” It was still too early in the morning for my cuteness to work anything witty out. I was almost sure I’d have found someone to help push the bike around, but it ends up that he was parked across the track and was of no real help at all despite the offer he tossed out. The next time I turned around, he was walking away, but was kind enough to throw a friendly smile over his shoulder. I gave the table top landing a good, but very quiet, “Aieyah!” just for good measure, then left *IT* behind to continue my walk of the track. Directly after the tabletop landing was a ninety-degree turn that lead to another 6’ drop-off. However, it was more sloped as the entire ground level dropped off as well. A short distance after that landing was a small kicker that led into another drop-off. However, as I walked the turn that followed, I sank ankle deep into the mud hole that the turn was completely made up of. The turn had basically been made in the bottom of a ditch. I added this too, to my list of “trouble-areas-that-are-not-good-for-the-new-goon’s-skill-level.” Having finished my walk of the track, I headed back to the trailer to check on the little CR and find some sunscreen for my obscenely white shoulders before they burnt. I nervously sat around for all of five minutes before getting up to pace back and forth. Five minutes after that, they called the driver’s meeting, so I scampered back up to the registration trailer. The meeting was short and to the point. People were going to be there, and we were supposed to put on a good show. I can handle the show part, but the people intimidated me quite a bit… I was going to have many witnesses at my death! *IT* was going to kill me! The thoughts were rather hard on my confidence, and I was having a very hard time getting myself ready for the race because I was getting extremely nervous. …Then some hot guys walked by without shirts and I was fine again! :) The photographer lady came and talked to me again, and promised to get some good shots of me this time (She did! Check them out at the top of this thread!) I rolled every jump in practice. Almost…: Practice went well, and I rolled every last jump except for the table top. Feeling cocky because it looked easy, I figured that I’d show off a little. Somehow I ended up in a nosedive, and honestly don’t know how I didn’t go over the handlebars. Thank goodness for the almighty panic rev! It probably saved my neck, and just barely at that! The photographer lady, and a few others even said they could hear my jaws rattle from the hard landing. After the hard landing, I was too rattled to pin the throttle to try clearing *IT.* Everything else went beautifully though. With the new fork seals and correct fluid level, my suspension was stiffer, and steering handled so much better that I was much faster in the turns. The little CR was no longer diving around on me either, which was a wonderful feeling. I complimented my bike as we walked back down the “no riding zone,” holding the throttle open a little to both cool the little CR down and hide my words from anyone who may have noticed my muttering. I tried to stay cool, and mainly relaxed in my car whilst waiting. There were three entries in the women’s class this time around, and I knew that the YZF 250 rider was there. However, I had no idea who the third rider was, nor did I know what she was riding. She never showed up for the practice laps. One of the quad riders who had parked beside me broke his arm in practice, and had been taken to the hospital. The other, who had helped me over the Greenbush doubles, asked how I liked the track and if I was nervous. I answered that it was a fast track compared to what I’d ridden before, and mentioned the *IT.* He shook his head and laughed, he hadn’t cleared it in practice either. I was definitely in for a tough time getting around the track, especially with the audience. Even though practice went well, I noticed that I had no idea what the little CR was doing when we came off jumps. This only served to make me even more nervous. The first set of motos went by quickly, and the crowd gathered and grew. I could hear them cheering in the background...I was shaking in my boots as I warmed the little CR up... Race is coming next. I’ll edit it in when I get it written! [/QUOTE]
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General Moto | Off-Topic Posts
Tolle's Finley Race Adventure (June 16th)
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