Budman Racing and Early Years HooliganTales

Thank you for sharing..Keep em coming..

Stung by tech?


Do tell,

May I have another, sir?

More coming. Yes.

As time allows I will add.

Think I may morph this to include my hooligan days on the street.
I have about 4 of those all written up as well, but for now I will stick to racing stuff.

Back to work

So this tale includes the destruction of one fine machine and the almost destruction of my leathers along with one beat up Budman.

Doctor’s think we are crazy

July 11th, 1987

The RGV500 was repaired from my T -7 crash (story above) and I was getting better on the bike. I was ready for the top 3.

It was a practice day before the race the next day. I was hot on it. It was a rocking day and my times in practice were my best yet.
I was stoked and riding better every session.

In session 3 I was following a fast OG – Art Chambers, who will always have my respect FYI.

We came across start finish and I was closing on him fast figuring I would take him on the exit of T-2 because my bike was faster. This was the old T-11 days with no chicane bullshit so when you hit start finish you were at the top speed Sears allowed. Est 125mph maybe a bit more.

As I was closing in I saw Art go squirrelly in front of me and I chopped the throttle a bit and then saw why. I stream of oil running up the track.. oh fuck.

He made it through because he was still on the gas and with my throttle chopped I went down immediately when my front touched it. This was by far the fastest speed I had ever fallen off.

I began a long slide.. my hand went down to catch my fall and immediately it was on fire.. hot as hell and I pulled it up. Then I found that my arms felt like they were tied to a puppeteer. They kept extending and I would pull them back in to my core to protect myself. Man I was feeling the asphalt try to wear my leathers out (Nice Custom Z leathers). I kept going and started to spin a bit but still on my ass with zero vision of where I was headed.

Suddenly I knew I want off track because I hit dirt. What I did not know was the tires in front of the concrete wall that split the drag strip from T -1 was waiting.
I slammed the tires hard. I figure I was still going at least 60mph when my ass, back and head impacted them. In a second I was rejected back to the dirt some distance away. Big impact left me dazed and laying flat on my back.

Classic body check followed before the turn worker and NMP showed.
• Toes work
• Fingers, hands and arm’s work
• I can move my legs
• Pain in my back and neck

I laid there staring at the sky.. fuuccccccck.

First NMP got to me and said “Don’t move!... what hurts?”

I said my back and neck hurt a bit. Again "Don't fucking move!"

He said “Do you know what day it is?”.

I said “It is Saturday July 11th, my name is Denny Kobza and I know I won’t be racing tomorrow”.

He said “Great answer smart ass.. don’t move!”.

They loaded me on a board after putting on a neck collar and I was loaded into the wambulance.

I remember the trip to Sonoma has me staring at the holes in the ceiling.. wondering how fucked up I was.

After I got there I was rushed into ER.

The Doctor came in and said “Cut off his leathers!”.

I objected immediately and said.. "NO.. These are custom leathers and I can’t afford new ones. Don’t cut them!”.

That was the point where the Doctor said "What the hell is wrong with you guys?.. every one of you says that. You likely have a broken neck and back and you care about money?”

"Yes sir please don’t cut them”.

At that point he said to the nurse “Shimmy down his leathers and get a neck Xray.. if it is not broken try to slide them off”. He left muttering something about being an idiot

No broken neck so they slowly peeled the leather down to my waist. It hurt.. my back hurt. After that a back Xray confirmed nothing broken. Then they slowly removed my leathers and then brain stuff checking on the concussion part. He looked at the burns on my palm and asked how I got those. I said I had put my hand down for a second the the metal rivets in my gloves must have heated up and burned me.

After an hour and a ½ the Doc said he can go, but he cannot drive. He has a severe concussion. They called the track and my friend Kurt M came to pick me up. I moved so slow.. every movement hurt getting in his truck. The drive back included discussion on the bike and he said it cartwheel up the hill in T – 1 and is in pieces man. It is fucked up.

Crap… well I thought I am buying it per my agreement with the shop / bike owner. There goes the rest of the year.

When we got back to the pit the first thing I saw was the bike crumpled on the stand with body parts surround it like a debris field. Fuck…

I asked for a ride home and my friends said well we need to stay for the race tomorrow. I get it. They loaded my bike up and threw the debris in the bed of my pick up.

The concussed me would have to drive home alone. I did.. when I got to the GG Bridge I thought about my tradition. Take a couple puff’s off a doobie and tell the Devil “Fuck you I am still alive you missed me again”. Dumb ass me said your alive you have to do that.. I did.. whoa

When I got home I could not move. It took me what felt like 20 minutes to get out of the truck. Every millimeter of movement hurt.

Finally I stood up. Another 10 minute walk (which was only 75’) had me to the front door. I knocked. When the kid got to door I just said get Mom.

When Mom got to the door I said "I got good news and bad news".

“What is the good news?”

“I won’t be racing the rest of the year”. She looked at me with a

“What is the bad news?”

“Go look in the truck…”

I did not move and stood there. In a second I heard a scream “Oh my God…!” and she came running back. “Are you OK?”

I said “Yes.. but I can barely move. I just need to lay down.”

So I wrote a check for 7K to the bike owner and was now so broke there was no way I was going to race again. Hoping to find a miracle I sent my leathers back to Z to get a new ass put on them. Thank God they had multiple layers on the butt because I wore out two..

I also ordered new boots as they did cut the left one off due to a big hole where my foot was trapped for a second when I first went down. The injury was only a piece of asphalt melted into my foot. The Doc just used a tweezer to pop out the pencil eraser sized piece out. A quick clean and a couple stitches took care of it. That is still my only road rash injury.

My helmet still has the tire marks embedded in it. I tried rubbing it out and it stayed. My Arai did its job thankfully and it is happy on a shelf now.

FYI: Doctor’s think we are crazy….

Sounds like you were motocrossing before the invention of milk crates.

Good stuff, your grandma sounds awesome. Racing at night however, sounds insane.

budman said:

The Doctor came in and said “Cut off his leathers!”.

I objected immediately and said.. "NO.. These are custom leathers and I can’t afford new ones. Don’t cut them!”.

Click to expand...

I can remember taking one of my kids to the emergency room many years ago and there was some kid with a broken leg begging them to not cut his leathers off. I can't remember if they did anyway or not.

N4teTheGreat said:

Good stuff, your grandma sounds awesome. Racing at night however, sounds insane.

Click to expand...

It was...

Side notes:

I saw Kazman slice through a big Jack Rabbit in the middle of the night in T-8.
Probably at a buck thirty five or so. I watched as each 1/2 spun legs up off the course. I was like holy fuck and could not wait to ask him about it.

When I did he said "What rabbit?"

Like I said.. like butter. The bike did not even flinch.

And the year after I retired I went down to observe the 24.
As a fan watching from the Budweiser Balcony watching the little bb's of light circulate the track my jaw dropped.. Holy Shit this is INSANE!!!!

Good times..

Dude - that is some funny, crazy, wild, scary shit right there. Book.Then movie.

If it was a book I would have to include more detail.
If it was a movie I would have to include the fact that when we watched the 24 hour we partied with the guys next too us who had a pirate flag and a sex doll flying on a pole.

About midnight one dude was so lit he said I got to take a leak as we sat around a fire. On his knees he dropped trough and was going to piss right there. One of his friends objected and yelled at him to go piss somewhere else.

Drunk fuck immediately faceplanted and then pushed himself out of the campsite without ever using his arms pushing his face through the dirt

When he got to the edge he used a car door handle to get up on his feet. Then he pissed on the car. His friend went nuts

Crazy night with BB’s of light as the main entertainment.

Although these dudes where top notch funny

budman said:

It was...

Side notes:

I saw Kazman slice through a big Jack Rabbit in the middle of the night in T-8.
Probably at a buck thirty five or so. I watched as each 1/2 spun legs up off the course. I was like holy fuck and could not wait to ask him about it.

When I did he said "What rabbit?"

Like I said.. like butter. The bike did not even flinch.

And the year after I retired I went down to observe the 24.
As a fan watching from the Budweiser Balcony watching the little bb's of light circulate the track my jaw dropped.. Holy Shit this is INSANE!!!!

Good times..

Click to expand...

And to this day I don't remember that wabbit! But maybe because I was trying to stay in Kurt Hall's FZ1000's lights that lit up the entire width of the track

It was a brown blur man.. coming out of the dark just as you strolled by.

I will always remember the poor bunnies halves break dancing away. Legs up spinning like a young kid showing off to friends. Your bike did not move an inch.

The Mrs says face plant here

This short story takes place at the Watsonville Speedway MX Track. Early 1985.

One of my fav tracks. The did a great job of including some SX kind of obsticals with the natural outdoor stuff. Very different than Sears Point which was sort of a natural European style track often run on virgin grass to start with.

So that meant nailing the doubles was always important. In morning practice the track was usually wet and that gave extra concern on making that happen. Always a butt pucker until you nail it. Once you do your good and your brown spot can relax.

So.. the racing.

This was when I was an intermediate. I did pretty good the first moto and I think I took a 5th or 6th, but the top 3 were gone.

The Mrs was at this one a said “Your losing a lot of time in turn one and the fast guys are on the way inside and killing everyone there”.

I said “Inside?? How is that possible it is all steep down hill?”

She said “ There is a 6” level flat spot right at the inside and while you guys go way outside they go to the inside and you lose 3 seconds to them every lap”.

I walked over to the turn and looked and yeah there was a flat spot, but it was hard to see in the shadows. It was only 4” at best. I watched the Pro’s do it and thought I should give it a shot. She offered to go trackside and point to the beginning of it so to help me do it.

Cool… a plan.

So after the start coming around the second or third lap there she was pointing to the first part of the flat spot, which at 25mph looked more like 2” wide.

I dove to her point spot and immediately my front slipped off and I literally face planted right where she was pointing.

I know she turned and marched away immediately probably thinking way to go dumbshit because as I slid I looked up and all I saw was her back.

That section of the track stayed wet and slippery because it was under a tree and I slid to the bottom holding onto my bike sliding on my chest in the mud.
I got up and charged back finishing just outside the top 10 and missed the podium by one spot. A lot of havoc changed things up that day.

One particular embarrassing moment made my now X say “I am not coming the races anymore… besides I don’t like porta potties”.

That.. was a point I made when I said I was switching to Road Racing. “They have real bathrooms”.

Her response… “Good then I can come”. She came once I think and usually said “If you are going take the boys”.

That is why the three of us did a lot of west coast travelling together and as a side note to this day they love classic rock. I actually asked my oldest why he and his bro love classic rock so much and his response was “Dude Dad.. we were stuck in your truck for hours and hours listening to Led Zepplin, Y & T, UFO and the Scorpions etc.. of course we like it. You drilled it into us”.

Good Dad.

Back To MX

My Dad, while a casual rider was never supportive of my riding other than when a convenience to him.

Started with a minibike. It was more convenient to get the kid one so he would STFU.

Continued with my RD 350 when me riding his new bike to work would be more convenient that waking up at 10:30pm to come get me at my job at Sizzler.

I wanted to go roadracing at 16 and his response was “Why the hell would I pay for you to kill yourself?” Unfortunately there was nothing convenient about racing for him so it was a no go.. “Finish college and you can pay for whatever dumb stuff you want to do”.

That is what I did. Within a year after college I was racing MX. He continued to put newspaper moto deaths articles on my desk at work every time there was one.

After a couple years of my racing he came to Baylands Raceway one night after a bunch of prodding. I was a novice, but getting ready to jump up and consistently in the top 10 and finding podiums here and there. I almost had enough points to become an intermediate. A good result tonight would put me over the top.

So he came out and saw what was going on. I gridded up for my first moto of the night (turned on my turbo goggles) and banged the holeshot.
I led the entire moto until the last lap where one dude slipped by. I was stoked by my performance and smiling large as I came back to my pit.

I said something like “That was killer huh Pop?”

He simply said “So this is what you like to do” with a nasty ass look on his face. He then bit down on his pipe and snapped the plastic part spitting it out in disgust. He said to my sister “Let’s go” and walked away. I was bummed as hell of course, but I did not need his approval to do my thing. Never did really.

I shook my head with an oh well and cleaned the bike for moto number two. I honestly don’t remember what I did in Moto 2. All I remember is his disgust and pipe stem snapping and his walking away not looking back.

Eventually through my safety stuff that BARF launched I gained a little moto respect from him and he is still on my check in list when I get home from weekend rides. Safe Pop!

He actually was proud for the first time when I got the AMA award. Took 40 years.. but he was... finally.

Probably a good spot to explain how I became the "Budman" as it was requested above.

My real name is Dennis as most of you know. I am actually Dennis Jr.

When I got out of college I joined my Dad’s Architectural firm. It is a bit confusing having two Dennis’s in the same office. More so back in the day when all communication came via a landline via a receptionist. My Dad always called me “Bud” short for “Little Buddy” which is what he called me when I was a lad.

He was the only person that called me Bud at the time.

So when people called the office sometimes he would get my calls because he was the man and I was the kid. Once the racing started then training and riding were a focus for me. Once racing my friends started to call to schedule practice sessions or races we were going to go too. Dad did not like that I took off early every Thursday night to head to Baylands Raceway for their night races. Our receptionist was very cool and could usually figure out when it was one of my friends because of the young man lingo.

My Dad did not like me racing. Not one bit and after a year or so I had my first son and then I became the "irresponsible idiot" because I kept racing.

As I got better I needed to practice more and I would go the Santa Clara PAL track after work when not training (Daylight savings time) a couple days a week.
We continued getting each other’s phone calls here and there and one day he got this one.. “Dennis.. we got a race at Watsonville on Sunday how about you play hooky from work on Friday and we can go practice”.

Next thing you know he was yelling at me “One of your flakey motorcycle friends is on the phone for you and he wants to play hooky on Friday to go ride your motorcycle!”. Oh shit. He was not happy!

At that point I made the decision I needed a work alias to not allow that to happen again. Since he called me Bud I went with that. Told the receptionist I was going to tell all my contacts to ask for Bud and even more importantly my moto buds.. “From now on when you call the office ask for Bud”. Still don't love being called Bud but whatever.

That helped.

About a year later my Dad hired this Yugoslavian Architect name George. George called every one there name with a MAN behind it.
Daveman, Steveman, Ronman…. Budman.

One day one of my flakey (and loved) motox friends was at the office to go to Baylands with me. George came out and said “Good luck tonight Budman” and BAM!!.. it stuck. I was probably 22 or 23 at the time. My bud liked it and started calling me that. It passed to others fairly quickly.

By the time I started roadracing at 25 it was pretty normal. My first leathers had Denny on the front and not a lot of folks knew Budman.

I added it to my leathers my second year racing so people would know who was wooping them or who they were passing.. Not a lot passed the second year. Kazman was an exception.

it did not take long to spread… sort of like a virus.

I was also getting Budweiser swag now for gifts from my Dad mostly so I was kind of committed.

Denny faded and Budman became my Moto Name.

I get folks asking if I like Budweiser or the quite often.

Nope.. and if they ask they get the story above.

I must admit it is funny with the SIP and Zoom meetings everyday showing my name as "the budman". Thankfully I don't have to explain why to often.

Portland 38 Hour - Racing up North with OMRRA

In this story I venture up to Portland to take part of the West Coast Superbike Series in 1989.

Washington Road Race Series WMRRA and the Oregon guys OMRRA joined the AFM for a 3 race series to share the love with all of us and find out who was faster. I decided to make the trek up and hooked up with fellow AFM Racer Kirk as my driving partner. My son Kyle AKA: Kman would join us. He was 5yo at the time. DJ who was now 9 said no way I am going on a 12 hour drive.

We stuffed the bikes and gear into my Ford Ranger and jumped on the road at about 5PM on Friday night. We wanted to practice Saturday to get familiar with the course. We hit the McDonalds in EPA for dinner and then on we go. Kyle was sitting on gear in my jump seats behind us and like any good kid at and fell asleep almost immediately after eating. Kirk and I took turns driving and drove all night arriving at the track about 6AM, both tired as hell. As soon as the motor went off Kman woke up and said “We here already?”. Little fucker!!

We let him out to wonder a bit while unloading and setting up. After that we sat in the truck, cat napped and went to sign in around 8am. There was a 92 in OMRRA so they gave me a 1 to add to my number plate. Sucked.

We went out to ride and man I dug the track. While flat it had some good speed sections and it flowed nicely. The front straight was long and my Gixxer 750 tapped out easily. Some dude with a radar gun was shooting speeds. 3 laps for 5 bucks. Hell yes I was in. Turns out my bike went 155mph. Kirks real superbike was much faster. My bike was a Suzuki Cup production bike further held back by me being poor and not being able to do jack to it other than a shock. Hurt me all year as most guys bikes were faster.

After practicing all morning and qualifying on Saturday afternoon we headed to the Hotel. Nice place too.

After dinner my traveling partner broke out drugs.. I was WTF?? I am not indulging man. This is a race weekend. He did. I thought he was nuts at least he went in the bathroom and locked the door while he sniffed his shit.

Sunday came soon enough and we hit the track early set up next to the Pinkstaff family (they had kids so Kyle had buds and a place to hang while I was on track). After our first practice Kyle walked up in a full Seattle Seahawks uniform including pads, pants and helmet. He was brimming with pride. So cool of them to do that for my son.

Racing ahead. When I watched the first race go off I was shocked. It was basically ¾ of the front straight…! We were going into T-1 at a buck fifty?
Never did that before I was nervous as hell.

I qualified pretty good for a production bike dude. 12th. Kirk was 7th.

When my first race came I gridded and looked at that straight just saying to myself HOLY FUCK. It was not the SB race so I was stuck near the back as a new guy. Maybe 30th or so with 40 bikes on the grid.

Green flag and off we go. As I got to the first turn a dude next to me tucked the front. His bike slid ahead as I started to brake and it went off into the giant golf course like lawn area. Cool it cleared me..!

Then.. shit!.. here comes the rider.. next to me exactly when I wanted to turn in.. fuck. I am going golfing.

I hammered the brakes slowing as much as possible and looked for the grass to let them off. And guess what.. the rider was sliding in front of me.. exactly in front of me.. FUCK.

He stopped and sat up.. right in front of me. I was down to 15mph or so and with just a few feet I knew I was going to square this dude in the back..! I knew that would really hurt him.

As I got to him I stabbed the front brake to lay it down to not drill him totally. My front wheel hit him in the ass and the bike cartwheeled over him throwing me in the air. Remember that Rossi running in the air pic..? That was me. I landed on my feet and ran it out never hitting the ground myself.
Then I ran back and picked up my bike. The dude looked OK luckily and I jumped on. Just as I started to pull away someone jumped on my back. A turn worker.

“You can’t go back out once you hit the ground!”

I yelled “I did not hit the ground!”

He said “Your bike did!!” He was not letting go so I was done. I pushed my bike out for the impact zone and watched the bikes circulate. After a bit the dude I hit got up with help and limped away. Thank God for that!

When I got back to the pits Kman asked me where did you go Dad?” Sound familiar??

I told him the story and sat to chill and mentally prep for the main SB race while Kyle enjoyed his new friends from Oregon. "Dad I am going to lunch with them". Cool.. they were so awesome to us.

When the race was up I did my warm up lap and gridded, hoping this time I would get through the first turn. It was smaller grid with about 24 bikes. Good.

Green flag and we all charged to T – 1. I made it through. First task good!! The esses after T – 1 were fun as hell. Then you hit a big ass high speed sweeper before a sweeping left and a pair of tight rights that lead you back onto the straight. The last one was the only impact zone on the track, which while still a bit nerve racking was nothing compared to Sears impact zones from hell.

I worked my way forward and caught Kirk with a couple laps to go. Then one more fun little experience. Booking around the big sweeper another dude fell again to my right but because it was still sweeping right he and his bike crossed my path.. the bike accelerated away smacking a tire wall put there to keep shit like that from flying across to the straight away.. a huge dust cloud mixed with debris.. quite the explosion!

When that distraction was over and I was hard on the brakes when guess what.. here comes the sliding rider again.. on his back, arms out looking up at me saying don’t run over me please. Twice in one raceday..

Lucking as I continued to slow he did not that much and he scooted forward and I tucked in behind and made the turns AOK.

My buddy who came up to watch (Jon E.) captured and amazing picture sequence from the deal. Photo’s in a box in the garage or ?? Somewhere.. damn it

Literally another dude on the ground right next to me...

I caught Kirk but did not pass him. We finished 7th and 8th. He killed me on the long straight.

Now.. the 38 hour part. Been up since 6am. Kirk had suffered an injury in the previous races as Sears and in an almost highside in this race it caused him to hurt his cracked ribs and he was hurting bad. He said “Let’s get a hotel and drive back tomorrow man.. I need to take some pain pills and crash”.

Well if I was not my Dad’s son I would have done that, but Pop expected me at work at 8am and not being there because of racing meant I was going to take some major shit. So I said "I cannot I have to go to work. I will drive you and you can take your shit and sleep". A quick fly by Carl’s JR and we were on the road. What a long fucking night. Kirk and Kyle both sleeping and me trying to drive the 5 all the way back to the Bay Area myself.

It did not help that there was construction on 5 and those orange pole things were lining the road along with flashing yellow light and signs saying go here. I was dead tired when I got to them at 2AM and struggled a bit to figure out where the hell I was supposed to be. After clearing them I needed caffeine. A fast food drive through gave me two giant cokes.

I kept going. Window down head out the window shit too.. stay awake!!! FCS that was stupid but it is stupid to go racing with young kids right??

As the sun came up I made it to Benicia or so and thought I got this.

I got home at 6:30 AM. We left our bikes in the truck and Kirk went home. I drug my sidekick into the house. Hell it was time to get up for work.

So I took a shower and dressed for work and off I went with the bikes in the back

I have been up for more than 24 hours when I hit my desk.. fuck I was tired. I made it through the day with more coffee and went home at 5. Unloaded the bikes and stuff, chatted with Kman and DJ and played with the little one. About 8pm I finally collapsed after 38 plus hours. Longest I have ever stayed awake.

I did my thing proving to my Dad I was committed to work as I was to racing and family.

Exhausted success.

Right shoes... yeah that's me

So I am combining my shoe issues into this post.

First one... this one ended up putting "Right Shoes" on the back of my MX pants in the pic posted above.

Pack ma shit and head to Sears for a race on there awesome course.
Each race featured a different layout and that seemed to always include some virgin grass to rip up. When it was not raining the traction was unreal awesome.
I loved that track. Old school MX.

So I get to the track and gear up and when down to my boots I had two right boots and no left one.. FUUUUUUUCK!!!

So.. that put me on a mission that made me look like a schmuck for sure

Excuse me... What class are you in?

If the answer was not mine then next question.

What size boots do you wear?

If the answer was close to mine then next question.

I packed two right boots can I borrow your left for my moto?



Not sure how many times that was repeated, but I did find a guy with an extra set (wise) and I rented a left boot for $20 bux for the day. Yes.. I had to pay for being a dumb ass.

Raced.. did well returned the boot and told myself if I add RIGHT SHOES on my ass it would never happen again. It did not.

Road Racing version.
My first of 3 - 24 hour races in 1987.

Same deal.. getting dressed. Leathers on.. go to grab my boots.
I forgot to pack them..

We only had 4 riders that year and I had to race.
I searched my truck again... and I found old MX boots. Awkward but they would have to do. At least I did not have to rent a boot.

Now for the interesting part.
MX boots don't have toe sliders per say, but they did have a metal protector riveted onto the toe. Plus they are bigger and harder to get out of the way.

We were racing my bud's RZ 350 so I was already smooshy to get on the bike and with a bad knee so this was going to be a challenge.

And... I would come to find out I would be entertainment during the dark hours.

Yup... the entire T-2 uphill sweeper had me dragging my toes and leaving a nice trail of sparks. My teamates said we can see you from the pits.. T -2 is a total trail and a tick at the top of the Budweiser balcony and a quick flash coming through 9 onto the main straight.

The scorers thanked me.

In a 24 hour race you have to provide your own scorers recording every lap.
I helped make their job easy.. look for the sparks in T-9 and here comes Kobza.

Tid bit on that race.
Yes a two smoke for 24 hours. We thought ahead and brought an extra motor. Sure enough my buddy Blaine blew it up about 11pm when we were running 2nd in class and 11th overall. We were doing really good for rookies.
The crew went to work and had it changed in an hour. I was next up so I got the pleasure of checking on their work. I was nervous that everything was done right, but just had to cross the fingers and go for it. It was OK.

Then at 3 something AM Blaine crashed smooshing the bars into an unusable mass of metal. Shit.. we don't have extra bars.. what do we do??

Well we stripped the bars off Peter's MB 50 pit bike and got them set up so at least we could ride. It was awkward as hell but it worked.

With higher bars I went out and laid down more sparks.. by the end of that session the sparks stopped as I wore out the metal. Poor scorers.

In the end we finished.

2 Hipp Racing had their first 24 finish. We took 5th in the lightweight class (out of 5)

Two bro's Peter and Steve Hipp, Blaine Ida and I along with an entire crew of Palo Alto residents and racers made this shit happen.

In the pic below I am in the middle in the Bud Man hat with Kman and DJ is in the upper right on the wall. Kid's in tow always... and with the SIP my hair is about the same now as then

Getting passed by Team Suzuki, Randy Renfrow on Team, Honda, the Human Race team and Hyper Cycle (the fast teams!) was knarly. I could not believe how fast they went in the dark!!

Wes Cooley, Randy Renfrow Kurt Hall, Cary Andrews and more just flat railed. I vowed to do it again and get a podium. Good times.

Love the story's. We obviously raced mx at the same time...I rode at the old PAL track too right up till they shut down (was other Pro Shaun Connely?)
.... Loved the grass at Sears

Shaun MConn I think Mike.

Could have been MCaan. Dude ripped.

The grass tracks were so much fun. The guys at the Point that laid them out did an awesome job.

I remember getting smoked by Mike Pascarella on his Kadi 85cc bike. The kid just kept it pinned. Mike is a member here but not active.

The Pal track on the other side of 237 was better.
Heck I think they moved twice before society closed in.

Those 85cc Pros were bad ass.

Mustard = Mad

So now that I have established that I actually had some adventures in racing I am going to exposed my hooligan teanage self..

So here is the story of my only moto ticket that stuck. I had one more, but I beat it in court

Mustard = Mad

As I matured into my street riding … maturing meaning getting used to it, not my behavior.

I had a crash. Hit a horse trailer coming over a blind hill… (that is another story), so I had done some extensive modifications to my RD.
• I changed out the front fender to a Rickman Metisse sexy slender fender instead of the big chrome one.
• I swapped the stock bars for Tommaselli Clip Ons.
• I received a café seat from one of my Dad’s friends and ditched the rear fender.
• By this time I swapped out the chrome J & R low slung expansion chambers for some sleek matt black upswept pipes.

I painted the seat (which I still have) and front fender purple to match the bike. Now I had a true café racer look to the bike. I was emboldened in being a bad ass.

I was cruising down Louis Road and came to a raised bridge over a creek. Nice humped part of the road. I knew there was a stop sign on the other side that was at a park entrance.

As I crested the small hill I noted no one at the stop sign.. a perfect opportunity to yank up a good wheelie, so I did. When I hit the stop sign I was probably in the 45 to 50 MPH range and had a perfect balance point still accelerating through. A quick shift to 3rd gear and soon I was wheeling down the street at 70 MPH. Bad ass indeed!

When I dropped the front I accelerated up to 90 in a 25. Wreckless yeah.. I get it. I came to the stop sign at Loma Verde and did a full stop and put my foot down in homage to the laws I had just broken. The next street was Ames Avenue and a quick right had me two blocks from home.

I saw my friend Abazabah out in front of his house mowing the lawn so I pulled over quickly to chat. Brian was the friend that got a little Honda 50 minitrail for Christmas at 10 and that was the bike I first road on the dirt. His brother got the 70 and for a couple years we spent countless hours riding together.. Again I digress. Brian walked across the street I pulled off my helmet and we started to chat about going dirt biking.

At least a minute later a Police cruiser came flying around the corner… I mean flying. It zoomed passed us ON THE GAS!!!

I said “Damn they must be after somebody!”

As soon as I said that the cruiser slammed on it brakes skidding to a stop. Then reversed course lighting up it tires leaving a big black stripe and there was some smoking going on!

I still had no clue what was up. There were two officers in the car. An older gent stepped out of the passenger side and as soon as he did I noted a yellow and white goo on his dress blues.

It seemed weird. I still had no clue.

He walked over to me as the young female officer stepped out of the driver’s side. Sweet burnout officer! He looked me up and down and asked “Do you know why we stopped?”

I said “No Officer I don’t”. I literally had been sitting there for 2 minutes it seemed. My helmet was off siting on my tank and Brian was there next to me. I really had no clue.

He said “Well we were sitting on Elbridge Way having lunch when you came screaming through the stop sign on ONE WHEEL!”.

Oh shit..! I thought quickly man if Brian was not mowing the lawn I would be at home, bike in the garage already.

The office then started to walk around the bike. He knew bikes.

He started checking the boxes off saying “This is not stock is it?”. “No sir I have done some work on it after I crashed into a horse trailer”, which brought a very curious look to his face. LOL

“Lets see.. Clip On’s. Are those Tommaselli?

Me: “Yes sir.. do you ride?”

Officer: “Yes I do. Would you step off the bike please”.

He continued to look at the bike… “J & R upswept pipes. Those are nice they look good”.

Me: “Thank you. I had low swept ones before, but they drug on the ground”.

Officer: “Doing some good lean angles huh?”.

Me: “Yes sir I guess I do”. Now I am wondering is he just going to give me a warning.

Officer: “What is up with this café seat, I have not seen one of these on a bike like this before. Where did you get that?”

Me: “A friend of my Dad’s gave it to me. It was just the fiberglass seat. I had to paint it and I fabricated mounts and spacers to get it to work and find a taillight that would work too”.

I flipped up the seat so he could see the crude fabrication that my friend and I did in metal shop. I was feeling a little more hopeful now!

Officer: “Well son. You know that if there was a kid on a bike or old woman crossing the street when you went through the stop sign you could have killed them right?”.

Me: “Yes sir if there was one, but I checked as I came over the hill and there was no one there”.

Officer: “Well it was very wreckless and this is what is going to happen”. All hope I had faded at that point.

“I am going to write you up for exhibition of speed. That is a two point ticket. Have you had any other tickets?”

Me: “No sir”.

Officer: “Good then you won’t lose your license”. He then proceeded to write up the ticket and I signed it.

“OK, you will get a notification in the mail for court. You will have to appear. Don’t get any more tickets in the next 12 months or you will probably lose your license”.

Me: “Yes sir.” Inside I was thinking if I knew you were chasing me I would have got away no problem. Next time they won’t catch me.

Officer: “ Alright then you have a good day”.

As he walked away I heard him say to the other officer…”Let’s go back to the station, I need to get a clean shirt and let’s stop for another sandwich too”.

That was the first time he sounded mad. He was a cool dude really.

Brian and I chatted about how the Officer had smoked the tires and how I thought they were going to a bank robbery or ???

Today.. I am glad my longest running friend in life got to see that. We have a unique memory we can always share.

And for history’s sake that is the only moving violation on my record in my 47 years of street riding. I was pretty good at running when young and lucky ever since my mind matured. Sort of.

Hiding in my high school

References:
• Map
• Wheelie pic
• Current bike parked on E Wing

After being seen doing a wheelie in my home town in a nearby neighborhood…a Cop lit me up. It was very close to my old Jr. High School and I immediately headed into the driveway. The school had a big park adjacent to it that I was very familiar with from my bicycling to school days.

I bolted through the school and into the park. I rode through the park and across a small pedestrian bridge where I knew there was an opening in the chain link fence to the adjacent Church.

Strange looks from the park goers for sure seeing a motorcycle riding the dirt path.

Through I went and popped out on the next street. Low and behold another Cop was just yards away. Oh shit… back on the gas!!

A quick left and then right into a shopping center adjacent to my high school. Lights and sirens going… he was on my tail!!

I zipped through the parking lot way too fast and headed to a bicycle opening in the fence that had two bollards on each side. I knew that it was tight, but at walking pace I could fit my clip on’s through with about 1” clearance on each side. This was not the time for a walking pace!

So I said a quick Hail Mary and went for it at about 35mph (slowing from 50 plus). Johnny Law was right on my ass! I bet he thought this was going to be ugly or I got him. Probably both.

There was a school building 50’ beyond so that complicated it further. I just had to go for it. I did and I made it through!!! Then max braking to get the bike stopped to not T Bone the building.

Got that done too.. sweet. I went into the corridor system and rolled through to escape out the back by the playing fields. There were 5 ways out total. I chose the furthest away. When I popped out of the corridor I saw another officer at the back gate cruising the road. DAMN!!!

I turned around and went to the front parking lot and DAMN again… another Cop!! They had called in the cavalry. He did not see me.. I turned around and went back into the corridor now freaking out.. FUCK FUCK FUCK ! I am surrounded.

I decided to go to my locker and grab my calculus book and just pretend I never saw them.

A hooligan rider who was 5 years older had told me about running from the Cops. “Never look back at them… use your mirror just by moving your eyes not your head so you can always say.. I did not see you back there. I had no idea you were chasing me”.

Pretty much a long shot in this situation, but hey.. It seemed like my only shot.

So with the bike parked on the E Wing I nervously started to fake study.

I expected to be busted, but after 25 minutes or so nobody came. I walked to the back and there was still a cop cruising the back entrance. Damn.

Snuck (walking ninja style) to the front main parking lot and damn.. one sitting there too! Then back to the original entry point and he was still there as well. Still surrounded.

Back to the books.. waited another ½ hour and went to check again. Back looked clear. Front parking lot looked clear but that was a main road and not my first choice for an escape route.

Who knows if they were still lurking. Back to the shopping center and that officer was still there. Back to the books. Again.. sitting nervously I looked at some math that there was no way my brain was going to digest.

Another ½ hour and another recheck. Again only the shopping center seemed to be covered. I pushed my bike to the back exit by the track and again there was no police car cruising Nelson Drive.

I started my bike and made a dash to the gate. A moto friend lived just two blocks away and I made a beeline to his house. I frantically went to the front door on my bike! He answered with a WTF look on his face. I said “Cops are after me!”

He lived in an Eichler which had an atrium beyond the door before you formally went in the house. I quickly pushed my bike in and parked it. It was his older sister boyfriend who gave me the advice on how to run. Ironic.

We spent an hour chatting about calculus.. I mean the incident.

After more than an hour I finally rolled out and rode home. Quickly putting my bike in the garage and realizing that once again I would have to doctor my helmet. Every time I was chased I would add some paint or completely repaint my good old Bell Star. That helmet changed colors often.

Turns out I was better at running from the law than calculus. Go figure.