July 29th and 30th, 2000 - Nelson Ledges, OHThe Race Weekend
Thursday, July 27, 2000 On the spur of the moment, I decided to take Friday off of work. I found out that there was an open practice at Nelson and, since I'd never been there before, I thought it would be a good idea to get acquainted with the layout. I picked up the bike from Whitt's, where they let me use a mechanic's lift to change the oil. Man, does that ever make working on a bike a joy! Around 4pm I was on my way to Ohio, radio blasting. The Turnpike made me tense, especially the construction zone between Pittsburgh and Ohio. I made good time and was at the track by 10 pm, apparently the first arrival. Some "Deliverence" looking dudes let me in the gate and told me I could camp anywhere in the fields in and around the track. It was dark and foggy, with a thunderstorm obviously aproaching. I couldn't see the track which turned out to be a good thing; I might've left with no one there to convince me otherwise. I set up the tent and settled down to sleep. Then the lightning started. I lay there with visions of electrocution dancing in my head, then decided to seek some better shelter under the Tech shed. It was there that I met Chris and Carrie Larson, a really cool couple from California by way of Kentucky. Chris was there to run the Fasttrax Friday practice on his trusty CBR600. We chatted until the thunder slacked off, and I returned to my tent. The rest of the night was uneventful, and I slept well without a baby to wake me.
Friday, July 28, 2000 I was up with the sun on Friday morning. All of the rain clouds had disappeared, and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day in Ohio. I thought about walking the track, but I had been warned that this is not a good idea at Nelson. It seems the track surface is so bad that an unsupervised sighting walk can so traumatize the virgin rider as to set him back by weeks. I figured I'd wait to be properly introduced and that proved to be some good figurin'. I had originally planned only to run the practice, but the Fasttrax school was being offered so I decided to splurge. As my wife and I often joke, "this was a nice save on my part."
I took the bike over to get tech'd for the school and met Marty Sires, Fasttrax instructer, national-level rider and fellow "SVrider" coverboy. He recognized my bike from the May issue which made me feel kinda famous, and I got to see his gorgeous black SV in its new "Niko's" sponsorship livery. Marty offered to show me around Nelson at a leisurely pace and I wasted no time accepting the offer. Mr. Sires is a schoolteacher and a real man among men as far as the riders at Nelson go. I figured I couldn't help but learn something from a person with those credentials.
Saturday, July 29, 2000 I greeted Saturday confident and ready to kick some ass. Then all the other guys who hadn't taken friday practice rolled in. The butterflies started early. Matt Wissel and his dad, Matt Wissel, pitted right next to me. I'd met Matt Sr. before but not young Matt. I introduced myself as he was messing with the wheels of his SV, and we chatted for a while. I think we were both kind of standoffish at first as we looked to be racing against each other at the front of the pack. I liked Matt right away though; he's a really pleasant guy and, as I was to see first hand, an excellent rider. I met Brian Roach at registration. He asked me what kind of times I'd been running in practice and got kind of quiet when I told him. Heh Heh. Things were looking up. Morning practice went uneventfully and everything I'd learned on Friday seemed to be with me still.
I lined up for the Solo16 a little nervous and curious as to how fast the local guys would be. I got a nice start and glued myself to the back of a really nice FZR ridden by Chicago Madman, Jason Temme, who runs what is, quite possibly, the most professional setup in club level road racing. He and his dad are a credit to the sport. I was happy to be running second but that didn't last very long. I'd been having trouble with my bike jumping around, especially through Turn 4, all weekend. No amount of screwing with the rear shock adjustments had been successful at solving the problem. That afternoon, Chris Larson suggested we take the rear end apart to check everything out, then reset the shock to its as-delivered settings to see if it would help. So we spent Saturday evening doing exactly that. It was during this process that I reflected on what really makes road racing the greatest sport on Earth. It's not the level of skill required (truly, well above anything your average car racer can imagine). It's not the danger (though motorcycle road racing is considered by many to be the most dangerous sport in the world). It's the pure camraderie that allows fiercely competitive individuals to help their fellow racers selflessly, often at potential detriment to their own efforts. Matt Wissel Sr., a man who takes his and his son's racing success quite seriously, spent a couple of hours helping Chris Larson (another fellow racer whom I'd just met that weekend) and me fix my SV. He didn't have to do it, and for all he knew it might be better for his son if he didn't, but he did. I have encountered this level of sportmanship in no other sport in which I've participated and in road racing it's a way of life. We got the bike put back together before it got dark and sat around the camp fire. I turned in around 10 so I'd be fresh for Sunday.
Sunday, July 30, 2000 Sunday morning, getaway day. My wife had apparently been by during the night to visit and had not been able to find me. A baby formula jar resting on my seat contained a note that confirmed it, along with directions to the motel in which she, my mother-in-law, and my 2-month-old son had spent the night. I decided to skip early practice and try to meet them before they continued on their way back to Virginia from a visit to her grandmother's in Illinois. On my way down the road I saw Julie and her mom coming the other way, so we pulled off in someone's yard. Julie was all for coming to watch the races but I figured it wouldn't be much fun for them. The restroom facilities at Nelson are outrageously bad (basically, you crap in a hole) and I figured the noise would probably be too much for J.J.'s young ears and brain. Smooches all around, they continued on their way and I went back to the track. I arrived in time to start getting ready for D-Superbike, the first race of the day. All of the big boys were gonna be in this one and I was really nervous. I tried to keep my mind off of things by checking the fuel and tire pressure, but there are only so many times one can check that stuff. Luckily, Chris Larson was there to joke around and keep me laughing, however nervously. Time came and I rolled to the grid, as usual ready to puke in my helmet. I hadn't been racing in D-super much during the season so far, so I was gridded on the fourth row. I knew that to have any hope of hanging with Jason, Brian, and Matt I'd have to get around at least two rows worth of guys in front of me right at the start. When the green flag flew, I grabbed a handful of throttle and put my head down; I was running second into Turn 1, firmly glued to Temme's FZR. I followed him through the first 5 turns looking for some sort of weakness. Unfortunately, it appeared that any weaknesses Jason had were less weak than my own. I couldn't see getting around him at any point along the first half of the track. When we exited the Carousel, Jason gave a look back to see who was behind him. Then he lit the fuse. As I understand it, Jason's dad is the mechanic for Team Serpent. Let me assure you that he knows what he is doing
I spent the next lap clawing back the ground that Jason had made on the back straight. There were a couple of places where it appeared I was faster, but not fast enough to make a pass. Then we'd hit the back straight again and Jason would say goodbye. I was beginning to resign myself to finishing 2nd when Matt Wissel went by me into Turn 12. Now this was a pass to see; inside of Turn 12, right after one of the bumpiest sections of the track, under massive deceleration, as cool and as smooth as the other side of the pillow. Now I was pissed.
Now at this point during a race, having been passed and repassed a bunch of times and not really being able to make up any ground on the leader, thinking of your wife and brand new baby boy waiting at home, and knowing that the local guys have your number in pretty much every turn that counts, you might decide to just ride conservatively and settle for 3rd. Or you might not. Well, anyway, that's what I decided. As I came around 13 on the second-to-last lap I could see Jason in front of me (too far to make it up on my own merits), the Starter waving the "Last Lap" flag, Wissel's front wheel beside my shoulder, and a gaggle of at least five backmarkers moseying into Turn 1. I mean this was a gaggle; these guys were spread 3-wide and riding as if it was their first time at Nelson. Jason checked up visibly at the sight of them and I knew suddenly that I had a chance. I quickly decided that we would be up to the pack by Turn 3, and that I would go whichever way Jason didn't when he made his move to pass them. As we exited Turn 3 the group of lappers went way wide to the left just as Jason decided to go way left to pass them. I laughed out loud in my helmet as I went easily underneath them all and pitched it into turn 4. Now all I had to do was stay ahead of Wissel in 12 and I would win!
TO BE CONTINUED
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