Anyone who's read a word I've written about our RC8R since the first time we ran it last year, knows it's been set up about as well as an over-loaded Toyota Tercel dragging ass out of the Home Depot parking lot with fifteen bags of concrete in the trunk. It's embarrassing actually. How can a man racing two decades and not find a setup quicker..
At least that last mystery is easy to clear up - I'm an idiot. I can't cook for shit, I can't save money, and I can't set up a bike (to go really fast) on my own.
Last round Dave Moss helped us get that loving feeling again for Sunday morning. It was great, for the first time in years I didn't intentionally go out last for practice. But to no fault of Dave's, that feeling didn't last once green flags started flying. Our bike was good for three to four laps in the OT race, then it fell apart. It was good for one lap of FP. Every other lap completely sucked. No dampening in our new Penske, the ass of the bike went soft and wallowed everywhere, and we lost traction. As for the front, leaned over on it's side in the Carousel the bitch bounced up and down like the wheels were oval, and I could NOT brake hard. When Metz passed us up the shoot to seven I chased him over the wheelie bump with a plan to compare our brakes going into nine. I couldn't even match him, never mind out-brake him. Our forks bottomed, the rear lost touch with the pavement, the back danced side to side so long I had to run it through the hay. Every time I brake hard that's what happens.
I could write about riding this bike for days. It could be a comedy actually. But instead of doing that, we took it to a Pacific Tracktime trackday last Monday at Infineon. I don't want to piss Alex off but I really needed to chase down any and every possible source of our instability. I secretly mounted a set of Dunlops, to compare to our Michelins. We did a race simulation with the Dunlops mounted, without changing anything else from round 3. Same problems, same places, same intensity.
While I was out there trying to stay on the pavement Michael came up behind me. It was cool of him not to pass. Instead he came up next to me going into seven, so I knew he was there. Our shock hadn't gone off yet so I actually tried to go fast as I could. I hoped maybe I could get some feedback from him. He stuck there for three laps. When we came in he looked at me like I either deserved an award for riding the wildest bull in the corral, or like I should probably go get an MRI to find out why I even would in the first place. He summed up the experience in one fine sentence "Well, you're definitely riding the shit out of it. ....But"
Michael looked straight at me and directly asked, "GoGo, do you trust me?" Right then I thought this is one of those endearing moments in club racing. You know, the moments that define us all. Where teamwork rules, where competitors lend each other parts and advice, where egos are all kept neatly in check. Without hesitation I answered, "Not at all. In fact I think you're an ass hole." He said "Perfect", then he introduced me to someone I could - Barry Wressell.
I don't know Barry at all. In fact I've never even seen him before last Monday. But let me tell you, trying to race a Toyota Tercel with fifteen bags of concrete in the trunk gets you in the mood to meet new people. Especially people who listen to you drool about your bike doing this out there, and that - and then answer you by saying "I know why it's doing that. I can fix it."
Sonny took the Penske out of our bike, while looking at me with this very questionable expression which seemed to say "Dude, this is like the twentieth time I'm taking a shock out of this RC8R. What do you say we make this one worth it."
It took about an hour for Barry to go through our Penske shock, top to bottom. Most of that time he spent explaining everything he was about to do to it. Sounded quite a lot like he knew what he was talking about. Looked like it too. In the afternoon we ran the shit out of the bike again. This time, no fade. Bike was exactly the same first lap, to last. And it was pretty good too. So good in fact that with the front still on crack, the bike was even harder to ride since now we were approaching turns like nine, even faster. Barry says he knows what to do to our forks too. Says we're blowing straight through our check valve on the brakes, which we've been trying to fight by adding spring. Funny, I never even told him that, but that's exactly what we've been doing..
We're showing up to T-hill for this weekend with our first priority set on taking our forks off and handing them to Barry.
I am posting this today with a mind to help others. Kind of like one of those genuine Kodak moments in racing - where a racer gives up his secrets rather than hiding them. I have a good feeling about this weekend. If I don't screw up as a rider, we may turn some strong laps. If we do, Barry Wressell of KFG racing suspension, will be why.
Be safe. See you all there,
GoGo
At least that last mystery is easy to clear up - I'm an idiot. I can't cook for shit, I can't save money, and I can't set up a bike (to go really fast) on my own.
Last round Dave Moss helped us get that loving feeling again for Sunday morning. It was great, for the first time in years I didn't intentionally go out last for practice. But to no fault of Dave's, that feeling didn't last once green flags started flying. Our bike was good for three to four laps in the OT race, then it fell apart. It was good for one lap of FP. Every other lap completely sucked. No dampening in our new Penske, the ass of the bike went soft and wallowed everywhere, and we lost traction. As for the front, leaned over on it's side in the Carousel the bitch bounced up and down like the wheels were oval, and I could NOT brake hard. When Metz passed us up the shoot to seven I chased him over the wheelie bump with a plan to compare our brakes going into nine. I couldn't even match him, never mind out-brake him. Our forks bottomed, the rear lost touch with the pavement, the back danced side to side so long I had to run it through the hay. Every time I brake hard that's what happens.
I could write about riding this bike for days. It could be a comedy actually. But instead of doing that, we took it to a Pacific Tracktime trackday last Monday at Infineon. I don't want to piss Alex off but I really needed to chase down any and every possible source of our instability. I secretly mounted a set of Dunlops, to compare to our Michelins. We did a race simulation with the Dunlops mounted, without changing anything else from round 3. Same problems, same places, same intensity.
While I was out there trying to stay on the pavement Michael came up behind me. It was cool of him not to pass. Instead he came up next to me going into seven, so I knew he was there. Our shock hadn't gone off yet so I actually tried to go fast as I could. I hoped maybe I could get some feedback from him. He stuck there for three laps. When we came in he looked at me like I either deserved an award for riding the wildest bull in the corral, or like I should probably go get an MRI to find out why I even would in the first place. He summed up the experience in one fine sentence "Well, you're definitely riding the shit out of it. ....But"
Michael looked straight at me and directly asked, "GoGo, do you trust me?" Right then I thought this is one of those endearing moments in club racing. You know, the moments that define us all. Where teamwork rules, where competitors lend each other parts and advice, where egos are all kept neatly in check. Without hesitation I answered, "Not at all. In fact I think you're an ass hole." He said "Perfect", then he introduced me to someone I could - Barry Wressell.
I don't know Barry at all. In fact I've never even seen him before last Monday. But let me tell you, trying to race a Toyota Tercel with fifteen bags of concrete in the trunk gets you in the mood to meet new people. Especially people who listen to you drool about your bike doing this out there, and that - and then answer you by saying "I know why it's doing that. I can fix it."
Sonny took the Penske out of our bike, while looking at me with this very questionable expression which seemed to say "Dude, this is like the twentieth time I'm taking a shock out of this RC8R. What do you say we make this one worth it."
It took about an hour for Barry to go through our Penske shock, top to bottom. Most of that time he spent explaining everything he was about to do to it. Sounded quite a lot like he knew what he was talking about. Looked like it too. In the afternoon we ran the shit out of the bike again. This time, no fade. Bike was exactly the same first lap, to last. And it was pretty good too. So good in fact that with the front still on crack, the bike was even harder to ride since now we were approaching turns like nine, even faster. Barry says he knows what to do to our forks too. Says we're blowing straight through our check valve on the brakes, which we've been trying to fight by adding spring. Funny, I never even told him that, but that's exactly what we've been doing..

We're showing up to T-hill for this weekend with our first priority set on taking our forks off and handing them to Barry.
I am posting this today with a mind to help others. Kind of like one of those genuine Kodak moments in racing - where a racer gives up his secrets rather than hiding them. I have a good feeling about this weekend. If I don't screw up as a rider, we may turn some strong laps. If we do, Barry Wressell of KFG racing suspension, will be why.
Be safe. See you all there,
GoGo