Barber Track Day 2011

I had a group of friends come up to visit Alabama for a weekend of motorcycle riding a few weeks ago.  I'm not sure how the "a few weeks ago" part happened, but time is flying by it seems.  I can't hope to write an account of all the fun we had that weekend, but I did want to write up something about my experience. 

The purpose of the visit (aside from hanging out and constantly needling each other) was to venture out to Barber Motorsports Park and watch the guys do a Track Day.  Rick has been pestering me for quite some time to come out and ride, and I have always said no due to quite a number of reasons, but I was more than happy to go and watch and try to video some of the spectacle.

The guys rolled up with an enormous Ford F-250,000,000 Diesel and an even more enormous trailer loaded with track bikes.  Shortly followed by a Mini Cooper...LOL.  What a combo of vehicles to have arrive late at night...

Saturday was to be spent at the track, and the day was beautiful.  I rode the VFR over to the track with cameras and all for the days festivities.  Little did I know that I was going to get an offer I couldn't refuse.  As the rest of the gang was going through tech (to make sure stuff like oil and parts weren't going to fall of their bikes at high speeds), I talked with one of the guys from NESBA.  The NESBA group was putting on the track day and there happened to be a free "intro" class where I would be able to follow a control rider ( in essence the track referees/coaches) around Barber's track.  I figured Brenna wouldn't totally kill me for doing that since it would be controlled and just a fun loop or two around the track.  I signed up and sprinted back up to the pits to tape up and get my bike to tech.  Steve helped me strip off the mirrors, zip tie the rear foot pegs and tape up the bike in record time.  Seriously, we did it so fast an F1 pit crew would be impressed.  I bummed a track suit and helmet just to get through the inspection process and got the bike cleared with only a couple of minutes to spare. 

Once I went to the morning rider meeting to discuss track rules, I found that my controlled lap would actually be 3 full track sessions of 20 minutes each.  I was going to get a half day of riding for free!  Now the nerves set in, and my fear of keeping the bike upright, and more importantly my body un-broken, in a situation where I had very little experience was in the forefront of my mind. 

When my group was announced over the P.A., I donned my borrowed track suit and helmet, fired up the bike, and rolled to meet up with the control rider in the pit lane.  He was really a good guy, and there were a few other novice riders that were going to be towed around behind him.  When it was finally our time to go, we eased on out onto the track...  I almost turned on the signal to merge.  I guess proper driving habits die hard.  We eased around a few turns at what felt like a snails pace and then the roar of engines behind could be heard.  The rest of the group had already caught us and we began to turn up the pace. 

The first session was a study in sensory overload.  There was just too much to pay attention to and too much going on, so it was nerve wracking to the point of almost not being fun.  It seemed like an endless parade of shifting weight, turning, wild accelerations, hard braking, and bikes flying all around.  (The sensation of overload reminded me of my first 10 second delay while learning to skydive all those years ago.)  

The second session was better, and by the third and final session, I let the control rider go.  Note that I said I let him go.  That is code for I'm slow, and with the VFR being the least powerful bike on the track, I couldn't keep up.  That sounds funny since my bike is hardly slow or lacking power by most standards.  It's just that all the true sport bikes like CBR's, Ducati's, Suzuki's, and whatever else that came roaring around were so strong that I couldn't even get close to their accelerations in the straights, so I got passed a lot.  I would catch up with people in the turns, but in the straights with my throttle pinned, they would just pull away with an unearthly whine punctuated by shifting gears.

One of the main rules for the novice division, was that we could absolutely not pass in the turns, only in the straights, which made for quite a few traffic jams in the turns as I caught up and then couldn't get by any one when the road straightened out again.  As wild and out of control as my discription seems, everyone was really quite safe in their passes, and the only issues I saw were people that missed a turn and ran off into the grass unharmed.  Out of all the groups out on the track over the weekend, I think the worst that happened was a few scratched up bikes and some bruises, which is a testament to how controlled the environment was considering the speeds some of these guys were able to run.

The third and last session was much more fun as I knew the course, understood what people were doing (i.e. passing me regularly) and knew what my VFR would do in turns a little better.  I had several laps where there wasn't much traffic.  I finally felt like I could get into a rhythm, accelerate out of turns, and confidently enter turns without feeling like I was going to get mowed down from behind by another rider.  I finally saw how the sport could be really fun.  I also put on the GoPro for the final laps, and I'm glad I did.  The first two sessions wouldn't have been fun to watch anyway, and I didn't want to think about anything other than the bike, the course, and traffic, so I didn't carry the camera on purpose.

I have to thank Rick, Steve, and Dave for heckling me and getting me to sign up for the experience, and most importantly, I need to thank Brenna for not killing me for doing it.  I do feel like I "got away with it" that day, so I'm sure I won't be back on the track, but I wouldn't trade the experience of the perfect day and the beautiful track for anything.

The final session edited for your viewing enjoyment. 

The new bike, a script, and a question

From Leesburg Bikefest -- 2010

As referenced in the last post, I spent the past weekend in Tampa/Leesburg/Ocala Florida at the Leesburg Bikefest. I had intended to blog and put up snarky comments and pictures on a regular basis during the event, but all the riding, eating, and gawking at people that should never wear tight clothing (and some who should only wear tight clothing) I didn't quite get around to it.

The first order of business on this trip was to pick up the new motorbike that was also referenced in the last post. I did manage leave Bob (my attention span impaired alternate personality) at home. I didn't want him around because I had already spent all my money because of him, and besides, he was perfectly content staring at SpongeBob cartoons with a box of fruit loops and some Tab soda in the living room. I really do need to thank my alternate personality though, because what I spent my last remaining fun dime on is totally AWESOME.

The red howling beast in the picture above is pretty spectacular in most every way. Brenna, my understanding and ever-so-perfect wife, even has taken a few rides on it with me. She said, "This bike leans a lot more than the other one, and it's LOUD!" after making a trip up winding roads to one of the local ridge overlooks at lunch this week. Yeah, it's a veritable plethora of fun.

Here is a brief script of our lunchtime ride:

Prior to starting the bike:

Brenna -- I have the sandwiches and a backpack, so lets go!

Brad -- Ok, Wait till you hear this thing! It's AWESOME!

Engine starts -- BRRAAAAAAAWWWWWWWAWWWWWAWWWWWAWWWW!

Brenna -- IT'S A LITTLE LOUD DON'T YOU THINK?

Brad -- revving the motor with childlike delight and a demonic glint in his eye. WHAT?!?

Brenna -- THE BIKE! IT'S REALLY LOUD!!!

Brad -- Still revving the motor as the vibration has set off every car alarm within a quarter mile and chunks of concrete begin to fall from the parking deck walls. WHAT?!?

Brenna -- NEVER MIND!!! LET'S GO! PEOPLE ARE STARING!!!

I know you are simply riveted by this example of my literary prowess, but Bob (the personality with the short attention span if you forgot) has taken over again and is tired of the script format and all the format changing...

Anyhoo...

I was looking for some really creative way to write up the stories from this trip, but I am somewhat caught between simply posting pictures and making comments...which I have already done once...HERE. Or I thought of making up some alternate format where all the participants (Rod, Brad, & and the GhostRider) take on superhero personas and I could describe the events with a fictional subplot of our endeavors to capture (or at least really annoy) the Evil Dr. Squid von Rev-Limiter. Yes, I do think of these stories while I am sitting on a bicycle for hours...welcome to my spastic mind...

Since I am stuck between lazy and creative, could you guys pick the format? I'm sure that out of the vast number of my readers (vast in my dictionary means a number less than 12 or something there abouts) one of you may have an opinion. That means, if you actually pick how you want the posts to go, you will probably be the only person voting, hence, you win and get the story your way...Like a Whopper or whatever...

I can't promise to post anything regularly because it's too nice outside, I have a new Motorcycle, and mountain biking in MOAB is coming in a few weeks. All these items seem to keep me away from my creative and chatty time in front of a computer. I'll try to post something once or twice a week until I run out of family oriented topics related to the Bikefest. Now that I say "Family Oriented", the list of posts may be quite short...Heh heh...

Happy Friday everyone and have a fun weekend!

From Leesburg Bikefest -- 2010

Mid-Life Crisis part...uh...what were we talking about?

I think, that as of late, I have completely lost my mind. Much like I lost my liver once in New Orleans, but that is another story...ahem

The inspiration behind this post comes from a friend on a certain social networking site that rhymes with macebook, spacebook, or lacebook...hmmm the last one sounds kinda sexy...whatever.

This friend commented when I posted an ad about selling my relatively recently acquired motorcycle, "Wow, that was a short lived mid-life crisis." Of course it wasn't short lived...in fact the only thing short about it was my attention span. This alternate attention span (I think we should name it...like Bard, or Darb...or Bob...or...uh...Hey look a squirrel!)

Oops...I appear to be off topic again. Sorry...

Well, "Bob" took over my brain one evening, called up a friend and made the decision to buy yet another motorcycle. A Honda Interceptor VFR, and I am really excited about picking it up this weekend and riding around Florida for the second time this year. Unfortunately, Bob (Mr. Short Attention span if you are like me and forget things you just read) hadn't noticed that Brad (the actual owner of this body) hadn't sold the first bike yet. This total disregard of financial logistics or cash flows puzzled me greatly (and got Brenna to roll her eyes so dramatically that I thought they would get stuck up there...again) Eventually, I made peace with Bob and got around to the fun part about being really excited about the new bike.

The next few posts will be my absurdly entertaining (or at least just absurd) recounts of this week's trip to Tampa to purchase this new bike along with stories about riding with my Dad and the Ghostrider to Leesburg to go to a Harley Rally. The Ghostrider and I will be bringing down the average age of the attendees of the Leesburg Bikefest by quite a bit, but our wives think that our maturity levels should pretty much match up though...

In the meantime, anybody need a motorcycle?

Riding Motorcycles in Tampa - Part 3

I have a couple of ride stories and an answer to a question as I finish up this trilogy of posts on the Tampa adventures.

Smooth as butter

First, we had a second ride over in San Antonio, FL, but this was preceded by a great breakfast in Zephyrhills. As a side note, Z-Hills is a place near and dear to my heart since I spent several years traveling to the town and jumping out of aircraft while I was in college.

Now there is a cap and gown put to good use. Good times...good times...

Now I was back on an adventure that I would deem probably more likely to result in injury. Riding a motorbike. Yes, I believe with all my heart that riding that bike, while safe, is still more dangerous than jumping from planes with small tablecloth sized sport parachutes. When riding the motorbike around, there are just too many other idiots to pull out in front of you and too many animals to run out into the road. In my years of jumping, I was never worried about having a run in with a dog or armadillo...heh heh...Now a fuel truck on the other hand? That's a different story, but I won't blame skydiving for that little incident.

We met up with another rider that had an absolutely beautiful BMW 1200 R and drove over to BJ's Country Kitchen. In all my lost weekends in Z-hills, I never new this place existed. We ordered up a ton of eggs, coffee, and hot sauce. The Western Omelet had an interesting mix of eggs and cheese, but the cheese was the white "liqui-cheese" type product. I could have done without it, but it certainly didn't stop me from scarfing it down. The funny thing, and the only reason I mention this stop, was that when Rick's food came out, he picked up his English muffin, said something like, "check this out", and turned the muffin sideways. The amount of butter on this thing didn't make it slightly damp, or drip a couple of times, it poured off in a stream. It was like someone had dipped the thing in a warm vat of Crisco. AWESOME! There's a coronary bypass in the making. I'm totally going back there the next time I'm in town...honestly...

BMW doesn't make good tire plug kits -- all that for $40 bucks of course.

The wind was absolutely howling as we rode the loops around San Antonio again. You could see the wind whipping the sand across the road, and in open areas, bracing in anticipation of the gusts was required. It was still fun, but my tall Dual Sport bike really seemed like a sail in cross winds. The other guys, with their more sporty setups, were by far better off with their low profiles. I was blown all over the place, and it made for some really interesting riding when coming through a turn and then getting blown off line by a foot or so.

We rode around for an hour and ended up at the same gas station where Nathan had his epic battle, and tragically, was defeated by the Applebees Ruben from Hell a couple of days before. I'm sure he was just elated to see the place again. We pulled in line with quite a few other motorcyclists and parked. That's when Nathan mentioned that Rick's rear tire looked a little soft. We all looked a little closer and realized that Nathan, with better eyes than ours, had spotted the head of a screw sticking out of Ricks nearly new rear tire. Ugh... That screw had to be 3 inches long, and as soon as it was extracted, the tire hissed flat leaving us wondering how best to fix it. Tom (aka Total Tom), the better prepared BMW driver, kindly offered up his fix-a-flat patch kit, and we thought all was well. On the first try, the tire plug looked like it was going to work and then it somehow disappeared into the tire. The second attempt tore the plug. The third and final try produced a glump of rubber cement big enough to have been molded into a new tire on its own, another mangled plug, a tire that still wouldn't hold air, and a string of foul language that was really quite impressive. @!#@$^&%$%^...$%#@!@@$%...deep breath... &*%^$#$%%#!!!! I was a good thing there were Harleys around, with their owners giving themselves carpal tunnel syndrome by constantly reving their engines for no reason. That noise was enough to drown out the string of curses from the ears of any little kids. Heck, that noise could have drowned out a jet landing or the detonation of a small thermonuclear device had there been one nearby.

The next thing to do was to go and get a real tire repair kit (or 4) from the station instead of relying on some obviously shaky and overpriced German engineered tire plugs. Perhaps we would have had more success if we had read the German side of the instructions?

We bought out the entire inventory of the gas station's tire plug kits, and I kept one for my bike. I didn't want to deal with a problem like that when I was riding home for several hours the next day. The cheap kit worked like a charm, and we headed back to the house. Rick was out $200 bucks to replace a tire that had tons of life left in it. Bummer...

Now, the answer to possibly one of the least asked questions.

What do you do when you have a couple of hours and an empty parking lot?

No, He is not stopped and trying to prop the bike up with his knee.

The last day of the trip was cool and gray, but we wanted to make the most of it. Everyone wanted to get some action shots, and I had sadly neglected my duties of taking pictures of the events as I normally do, so here was a time for some fun with two hobbies at once. Motorcycles and photography. I bummed Nathan's Cannon SLR and off we went on a search for an open parking lot on a Sunday morning. All the local schools had chained up their driver education lots, which, upon reflection, was a good thing for the most part, even if it wasn't convenient for our purposes. Why would that be a good thing, you ask? Because I remember what I used to do in High School with my car's tires smoking and leaving black curly marks all over the school lot, and I doubt that kids have changed any at all since then. Well, they haven't changed much, except for the fact that they all seem to have more expensive and powerful cars than I ever saw in school. I figure that if they hadn't chained up these nice open lots, every other week the school maintenance person would be untangling some BMW or Audi from the chain link fencing due to the offending High Schooler trying to write his name using burned off tire rubber on the pavement.

We eventually happened upon an empty lot near a half vacant strip mall. It was a bit sandy but perfect for getting some fun pictures of slow speed turns from up close. I think some of the shots came out very well! Nathan is amazing, and we even had another sighting of the Ghost Rider to top it all off. It's odd that he seems to show up when we are all riding together. Strange...

Unfortunately, all good weekends must end, and the siren call of work could be heard. (I guess that's marginally better than the siren call of the local police, eh?) Nathan and I packed up after the parking lot adventures and headed north again. In Tifton I parted ways with Nathan, donned my snowman riding suit to fight against the winter that we had returned to, and drove the bike the last 5 hours to the house. It got cold. Seriously cold, and I was seriously missing my old house in FL. That would have been a much more convenient a trip to make. Of course, with the large family that I have now, the FL house would be bulging and it's occupants and furniture would have been spilling onto the lawn. Now that I think of it, had I still been living in the Florida house, my guess is that I may have avoided going home so quickly...

Thanks to Nathan, Rick, and especially Jodi for putting up with us, even though I know we bring only the highest quality wit and commentary during our visits together. I couldn't imagine how she could possibly tire of us.

I would also be remiss to leave out the Modern Warfare battle that we were introduced to by Gavin one evening. That is one of the coolest games I have ever seen from a graphics and intensity standpoint. I'm sure Rick is playing it even now...

I'll bet Jodi is thrilled by that too...heh heh...

Riding Motorcycles in Tampa - Part 2

Ah, the saga continues! I know that you have all been just aflutter thinking about the next chapter of this adventure, and I'm sorry if you have lost sleep due to the anticipation of the post like a kid on Chistmas eve. Well, come to think of it, if you have lost sleep waiting for one of my irregular posts, you may have bigger problems and should probably seek some counseling.

Enough of that and on with the story.

Tampa Riding - Definitely warmer than home.

We headed north from Rick's house on roads that seemed covered with an unimaginable number of traffic signals. Here is my written impression of Tampa driving. Roooaaaaarrrr up through 1st and just as you hit 2nd gear, hit the brakes for the red light, sit and wait, repeat... Aren't you so lucky to have wasted your time reading that little gem...




Eventually we got to some open roads, and I noticed that motorcyclists gravitate to the same roads that bicyclists want to ride. Open, low traffic and fun with loads of twists. We warmed up our tires on a series of turns and got going on a great loop around San Antonio, FL.


View Larger Map

The turns in Florida that we enjoyed leaning through are very different than in Alabama and Georgia. At home the turns are sharp and winding around the mountains and amazingly fun to navigate. The Florida roads and turns are more sweeping and open. You can carry much more speed into and out of these big turns than at home. I found myself slowing to a good entry speed for a turn ala "mountain road style" and that was practically walking pace compared to what was actually possible to safely travel on these rides. After finding myself well behind the group because I slowed so much for the first few turns, I began to get the idea. We drove through turn after turn on all these new roads in the warm weather. It was great to explore and see new places. When I left Alabama it was 35 degrees, so I had to use my day-glow winter riding jacket, which is possibly the ugliest yet most practical piece of clothing I have ever owned. Thankfully, Nathan had packed every bit of riding gear he owned (and then some) into the truck, so he loaned me a cooler (in both the sense of insulation and looks) jacket to use while we were there. Travelling and packing everything onto a motorcycle does limit what one can carry, so had resigned myself to riding in the horrid looking and overly warm winter jacket in Florida. Nathan's loaner definitely made my days of riding more comfortable. Thanks!

We pulled into a gas station as a rest stop and ran into Bruce. He was one of the most hyper guys I have met, but that personality trait seemed to fit since he was a very good, and fast, rider. He was one of those guys you would love to sit down and listen to as he told stories, and you most likely wouldn't need to say anything to keep the conversation going! We decided to all ride a bit more after talking for a while, and that was when the "Revenge of the Ruben" occured. Perhaps, I should have noticed that Nathan had taken a prone position on top of the picnic table as we talked. He was looking more and more green by the second and after a few more minutes he sat up, dejectedly shook his head in a sign of surrender to the nausea, and went to yak behind the dumpster. The poor guy was really sick. I have no idea how he rode as well as he did while feeling that bad. We opted for a couple more sweeping turns while making a short trip home to get Nathan into bed. Bruce led us out and wow, that guy can ride. He would calmly drive through the straights so everyone could ride staggered, and then as a turn approached, I could hear the motors wind out and we would all drop into single file. One after another we all would lean into the turn and roar around it. Then everything would slow down to re-group. It was a great safe way to enjoy the roads. I learned a load about riding from watching Bruce, Rick and Nathan.

By the time we got home, Nathan was looking just exhausted and he poured himeslf into bed. We all sat around for a few mintues nervously wondering if he had the "Stomach Bug" that had been going around. That was a big worry, because if he had contracted it, we would soon all have it and the weekend would be ruined. I could imagine getting the bug and then having to ride back from Tampa while fighting back nausea the whole way.

While poor Nathan slept off the Ruben, Rick and I played with a very cool track bike. That thing sounds exactly like something I should never EVER own.

What do you mean? Of course it's totally legal to have it on the roads...

In the end, Nathan had been attacked, not by a vile stomach bug, but by the vile Ruben from the night before.


We had been asleep so little and done so much over the last 24 hours that it felt like it had been days since we had made the trip down with that fateful sandwich, but it had only been 8 hours or so. Nathan slept the whole evening and into the morning and awoke hungry and happy. Much to the relief of us all.

The next day it rained and we missed out on our planned boating and riding, among other entertaining things, but we did have loads of fun playing the worst games of pool and darts ever. I swear a game of pool took hours to finish. We couldn't hit anything, and I was the worst without question. In hopes that nobody would actually notice how miserablly we were playing pool, we did the smart thing and stopped. What to do next? Darts! We can't be that bad at that! Right? Perhaps we should have just hopped in the truck because we all looked...well...lets just say we look silly throwing darts. Rick has a nice unintentional pirouette after a throw and Nathan has a "fabulous" flair to this throws. I'm sure I looked just supremely studdly...as usual. We laughed about those games for the rest of the weekend.


Next - Hanging out, Modern Warfare, and things to do with an empty parking lot. Don't lose any sleep while waiting for the next installment my loyal readers!

Riding Motorcycles in Tampa

Winter stinks. It really stinks. Riding Motorcycles in the cold stinks too, and since tropical temperatures in February are really hard to come by in Alabama and Georgia, my cousin and I decided to drive down to Tampa to meet up with another of our compatriots to go riding.

Part 1 -- The longest road:

Nathan and I agreed to meet in Columbus, GA after work, and we actually had a good plan to meet and make the trip cheaper and more fun for both of us. He was going to drop off a bike he was selling, and I would be able to load up my bike on the trailer to complete the trip to Tampa. The plan was to meet around 8:30pm EST and go from there. That would make for a late arrival, but honestly, not all that bad with both of us driving and keeping each other company. But with all good plans, stuff goes awry. The meeting time was the first thing to go. I ended up working late, and instead of leaving at 5 CST, I didn't get on the road until 6:30pm CST. That put me into Columbus at well after 9pm on a cold night of riding. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Nathan was experiencing troubles in getting away from Atlanta with the trailer, so neither of us were going to be even close to our planned departure time for the next leg of the journey.


I rode on into Columbus to get dinner and warm up. I stopped at a Waffle House in what turned out to be a not-so-good place to be, but being tired, cold, and apparently a bit thick-headed, I stayed anyway. I'm positive I broke up a drug deal in the parking lot when I pulled in. There were two people in a parked car. I pulled up, looked their way with my goofy neon yellow riding jacket, and one person hurriedly jumped from the car and sped off in their own car soon to be followed by the first car. Perhaps that should have been a clue. Bah, not to be deterred from getting my hash browns and coffee, I walked into the shop. Everyone stared at me in the most uncomfortable way. I just walked over to a table and sat down to wait on Nathan to arrive. It was a really strange experiment in human nature. You should try this some time. Put on the most ridiculous clothes you can find and then walk into a restaurant where you are obviously not the normal clientele. Very funny and awkward.

Around 10:30pm, Nathan arrived in town, and I went to meet him since I was feeling a strange urge to get away from the Waffle House where I had been encamped. The guy that was going to buy Nathan's bike was only 20 minutes away, so we decided to wait at his house after Nathan grabbed a seriously questionable Ruben sandwich from Applebees. This guy proceeded to be "Only 20 minutes away" for the next 2 hours, and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. I was getting tired of waiting and Nathan was equally P.O.'d at this guy. I won't go into detail of how we nearly dropped my bike off the trailer in an effort to be ready for when the buyer showed up and we could get going. The lesson being, don't tie down your bike in the dark when tired. This guy told us he was leaving wherever he was and would be home in 20 minutes at least 3 times during our wait, and with each passing minute we realized it would not be a "late night" when we arrived in Tampa, it would very possibly be "Early Morning". Eventually this clown showed up and the sale was competed. We were tired yet thrilled to actually be moving. We were about 6 hours drive from Rick's house, and we decided to take shifts driving and sleeping instead of talking as we had originally planned.

In the end, we made good time and got to the house just as the sun was rising. Rick's wife was up and heading out to work when we stumbled into the house amid the barking of dogs. 6:30am was the final arrival time. We made a normally acceptable 8 hour trip into a 12 hour trip. After a very short discussion, we wisely decided to go ride our motorcycles after getting some sleep, and our adventures on the bikes will be the topic of the next post.

Nothing like a good cliff-hanger, eh?