Track Riding: My First Full Season

A few years ago, after several track days on the FZ6, I realized that track riding was really what I wanted to do on a motorcycle. The next summer, I bought a bike that was up to the task and I’ve never looked back. Here are a few thoughts on my first full season of riding track days between September 2015 and May 2016.

Tours are fun. Group rides can be a blast. The longer I ride though, the more riding on the street seems like a roll of the dice; a wager with the hazards that exist there. Like all bets, there is a good chance that you’ll be on the losing end at some point. My personal view of this problem is severe. I have been a party to, or witnessed directly at least ten or more motorcycle accidents. The majority of these totaled the bike and four of which were serious enough to involve a hospital stay. Within my circle of riding friends I've heard of many more. The formal numbers don’t lie: The Institute for Highway Safety’s latest figures from 2014 indicate that motorcycle deaths accounted for 13 percent of all vehicle fatalities. When you consider that motorcycles account for only three percent of registered vehicles in the US, this number seems even more staggering. 

Safety aside, the full range of a performance motorcycle simply cannot be experienced at legal road speeds. The desire to push a superbike to the level which they are designed to perform will quickly have you doubling, even tripling posted limits. The two official “riding awards” I have received as the result of said doubling could have landed me in the slammer and impounded my ride. Thankfully, both officers saw fit to let me gingerly cruise on, scolded, tail tucked between my legs. The financial consequence of these tickets seriously changed my outlook. If I am to enjoy my bike as it was meant to be enjoyed, it isn’t going to be on the street. It can’t be on the street.

For these reasons, I made the concerted choice to take my yearly bonus from work and stash it away, earmarked for track use only. I was determined to create a full schedule and stick to it. Locally we have several tracks and organizations that put together track events, and choosing who I would ride with over an entire season all at once was great fun. I was like a kid in a candy store. I picked five different places within driving distance from Tucson: Muscleman Honda Circuit, Arroyo Seco Raceway, Arizona Motorsports Park, Inde Motorsports Ranch, and the crown jewel of my schedule-Chuckwalla Valley Raceway. I wanted to experience a variety of courses and try and develop the skills that are important to going fast at each one. 

I signed up for a September Musselman track day first as an “appetizer” for the season to come. It’s a great little track designed primarily for kart racing, so the layout is tight for motorcycles. Speeds tend to be slower, though it demands accurate braking and cornering. Within two laps of the circuit I suspected that something wasn’t right. The front end felt vague in the corners. I was having to really muscle the bike around the track. While I was loving the engine of my new Daytona, I wasn’t feeling the sharp handling that the bike is so famous for. Not a total loss though. Within a week, I had the bike over to Evan Steel Performance for basic suspension setup. We set the sag, dialed in the compression and rebound for a more sport-focused ride. This would turn out to be the best $30 I’ve ever spent in my riding career. Not only did it transform the bike, but I learned a thing or two about setting spring preload that I’ll use over and over again and can help other riders with.

My next outing would be at Arroyo Seco Raceway in November with a couple friends. It’s about a four hour haul to Deming New Mexico to get to the track, but well worth the effort as I would find out. This would also be the first of many events that would test my groveling skills. With no method of transporting the bike of my own I encountered the first reality of getting serious about the sport: begging for a trailer. Lucky for us I was able to borrow a 18 foot double-axle trailer from work. Far too much trailer for the job of hauling three bikes as we found out, but beggars can’t be choosers… Riding Arroyo Seco for the first time was incredible. Being a ASMA race weekend, the open track day was my first ever experience riding with racers tuning and practicing for their upcoming qualifiers. Traffic was fast! For the first half of the day, I felt like a speed bump waiting to get rolled over. The Daytona was feeling great though, and after several conversations with a few of the seasoned Arroyo racers my lines tightened up and I was able to hold my own. As much fun as the track is, the overall experience was really cool. I enjoyed seeing some seriously fast guys rip around that place and got my first taste of the life club racers lead. Honestly, I don’t know how these guys afford it. Most pits had multiple bikes on stands, stacks of tires and generators roaring away in the background. The scene is one of camaraderie and trash-talk. Competition and genuine support for each other in what can be a sport that is unforgiving of mistakes.

I took December off but was back at it in January in Phoenix at Arizona Motorsports Park. Another friend volunteered to trailer my bike up, so I would be all alone for the drive up from Tucson. I arrived an hour ahead of the rig and secured a prime pit location, trackside in the shade of the carport. I was feeling saucy as I had just purchased a new Dianese leather race suit, and was eager to try it out. The fit of the new suit was incredibly tight, but I was assured by the sales person that it would give with time. I was also feeling good because the last track day at Arroyo had gone so well, and it felt like my riding was getting somewhere. I was itching to get out there on this new playground and see what I could do. The pace in “B Group” was no joke. If I was to ride mid-pack I would have to step up my game. I have been told that the best way to improve at anything is to find someone better than you to emulate. As it turned out, that day I was pulling up the rear in my group, so I had a bunch of choices. I decided that I would focus on two things: being more aggressive in the braking zone and trying to run a bit more radius in the corners for more speed. Again, as the day progressed, I felt my lap times improving and my lean angles getting deeper. Pictures proved that I was mere inches from scraping my brand new knee pucks.

I spent the entire month of March jonesing for another track fix, but was saving my dinero for what was almost guaranteed to be an epic event. I’d worked out a ride to Chuckwalla Valley Raceway in southern California just outside Joshua Tree National Park. I had seen and heard of this place in countless magazines and videos. It is a legendary desert destination for track riders. I was beyond stoked that I would get my chance to rip through the famous “Bowl,” a 10 degree banked sweeper that I was told you could accelerate through and slingshot out of. Again, the trip proved worth the wait. We arrived the day before we were to ride, so we had plenty of time to let the speed culture out there soak in. As I looked around, I wondered what the next day would bring when I saw the huge semi trucks of the race teams there for practice. I would be on track riding next to these pros. After a windy (and somewhat sleepless) night in the paddock we attended the rider’s meeting and set up for a session-free day of unlimited, balls to the wall plowing around the circuit. My first few laps were tentative as I got comfortable with the layout and let my tires come up to temperature. I remember thinking how enormous the 2.68 mile course felt and the odd sensation of feeling the suspension load up as you round the Bowl, giving you far more traction than you would have around the same turn if it was flat. I continued to make lap after lap, and no one was telling me to haul it in for the next group to come out! It was awesome! I must have swung 20 laps in that first hour before my arms were so trashed I couldn’t crank on the bars any longer. I pulled it in to the pits with a classic shit-eating grin plastered on my face. The day continued to get better and better until the wind picked up and the dust rolled in. The storm came in suddenly and in moments riders were packing up and taking cover. We had been told that this was a common occurrence here, and that if we were to choose to stay out on track as the sand was blown onto the surface that you would maintain traction. This seemed impossible, but not wanting to lose any precious time at this temple of speed, I headed back out for a few recon laps. Apart from what was blowing up into my helmet, I wasn’t bothered much by the sand. It was visibly filling in the cracks in the asphalt, and still wafting across the race line in waves but my tires still stuck. My lap times continued to get faster and faster until I felt confident to ride without hesitation. By this time most of the locals had packed up for good and headed home. I had this unbelievable, albeit dusty, track mostly to myself! The wind began to die off around three o’clock that afternoon, and the sky cleared of sand for some of the best riding I have done to date on a motorcycle. At the end of the day, I spoke to the track photographer who said he was surprised to hear a single bike out braving the elements as the sun was going down. Luckily, he was able to hike out to the first corner and take two of my favorite photos ever.

My next event was just a few weeks later at Inde Motorsports Ranch outside of Willcox, Arizona. This track, although perhaps not as well known as Chuckwalla, is quickly becoming a must-experience destination for both riders and drivers in the Southwest. Inde is unique in that it is a members-only road course; a country club for the moto-inclined. The track, the facility, and the surrounding desert landscape is truly second to none. Any opportunity to ride Inde is a “drop everything and go” situation. I was pleased to hear that one of the largest racing organizations would be putting on another track day/race day weekend out there, and I registered as soon as I could and started looking around for another trailer to borrow. I’d ridden Inde twice before on the FZ6, so I knew the track and felt reasonably comfortable from the start. What I didn’t plan on was the crowd. The vibe was fast and aggressive from the beginning of the first session, and got more intense as the day wore on perhaps due to the impending races that afternoon. I noted to myself how much more comfortable I was in those conditions than just a few months earlier surrounded by club racers at Arroyo Seco. This was B Group though, and most of the riders who would be on the grid later were running A Group. Bikes were crashing out almost every session that Sunday, causing big delays in the schedule. I rode only four twenty minute sessions before the last checkered flag called us in. Somewhat disappointed in the amount of time on the circuit, we packed up our (borrowed) trailer and found a place to watch the races before heading home.

As luck would have it, I was able to get back out to Inde again for a private day of riding just a few weeks later. With just myself and my host out there, this time I was able to make some real progress. I had the time and the space to work on technique an body position that I hadn’t gotten before, and my lap times showed that I had improved greatly through the season. I set a personal goal to break 2:25 there. A fairly soft goal, but one that I surely would not have been able to achieve on the FZ6 a few years earlier. I ran a 2:24.5 as measured by a less than accurate GPS app. Although I can’t be certain, I’m feel that my laps were probably quicker than that. Next time I’ll mount a transponder and get an official time.

A few of us decided to take advantage of Arroyo Seco’s reasonable rental rates and do a private track day with instruction from Roger Heemsbergen, track owner and all around fast guy. Arroyo is interesting in it’s layout. The eastern half has 11 tightly linked corners, and the western half is formed by two straights with one lengthy sweeper called the Carousel. Because it’s so fast at one end and technical at the other, I find Arroyo Seco to be the most Challenging of the tracks I ride, but also the place where I tend to learn the most. On two occasions while following a faster rider during my first track day there, I came close to tucking the front and balling up a brand new bike. I’m glad that lesson didn’t come with a painful blow to the wallet, or worse. I did manage, entirely by accident to scrape my knee puck on the tightest corner of the course: the “Bus Stop.” In the moment, the foreign sound and transmitted vibration through my leg scared me a little. Then as I stood the bike up out of the turn I thought to myself, “That’s it?” All I needed to do was change my foot position on the peg and stick my knee out farther. Sometimes the most obvious answer to a problem is the simplest one. Roger’s critique of my riding at the end of this last day of my 2015/2016 season was that I’m doing it all pretty well. Body position looks good, braking’s fine, lines are where they should be. I’m just not pushing it hard enough. 

I’ll have to wait until September of this year to push it again. But looking back now on this past season, I have nothing but good things to think about. This year will probably be my year of most consecutive improvements, as there will be fewer and fewer bad habits to break and new techniques to incorporate from here on out. Where am I going with all this? The short answer is, I’m not sure. I would like to get to a point where riding in A Group wouldn’t pose a big problem for me. I would also like to try racing sometime, although I am realistic about the cost in both money and time. I'd honestly be happy with exactly the same number of track days next season and letting the gains come naturally. I'm already practicing my groveling technique in preparation. 

Onward & Upward

It's been well over a year since my last post. Guess I've been too busy, what with all the riding I've been doing. It's been a fantastic year putting in some big miles on the trusty FZ6, and on my new ride, a 2013 Triumph Daytona 675.

I absolutely stalked the Daytona for over a year before I was able to pull the trigger and bring her home. I participated in a Triumph demo day in October of 2014 and decided then and there that this was the bike for me.

Here she is next to a '13 Speed Triple I dubbed the "Snot Rocket." That thing was a wheelie monster. I had trouble controlling the throttle even on the tame, guided demo ride we were led on. As fun as I knew it could be, and even more practical in some respects; it was the little supersport that would haunt me.

The Daytona was and is nothing like the FZ. At the time, it felt so foreign to me. Actually the feeling was more bizarre than foreign. You sat on top of the machine, rather than "in" it. It felt tiny by comparison to my Yamaha. You could see over the front of the fairing past the front tire, because the riding position is so aggressive. The handling was so twitchy. The bike was impossibly narrow. Where were they hiding the engine in this thing?

Ah. The engine. This triple, that sounded like no other engine I had ever heard and which delivered power so sweetly was the drug to which I would become a fiend. Even after such a small taste of what it could do, I was sold. I had fallen for her. But how to make it happen?

I watched and waited. Surprisingly, the demo bike didn't sell. It sat on the showroom floor for two more months through the holidays, then four, then six. I watched the price drop on the dealer listing on Craigslist. Clearly no one else felt the love I was feeling for this pale British lass. The price dropped again. I worried that someone from out of town would see it online and it would be cheap enough to make the trip to the 'Ol Pueblo and scoop her up. I would have to act.

And act I did. In July 2015 I traded in the FZ6 and paid asking price for the Daytona, knowing the dealer had reached rock-bottom. No haggling is a good thing, and I got a screaming deal on a demo bike with 63 miles on the clock.

Out with the old, in with the new. The FZ had about 25,000 miles when I traded her in. What a great bike. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes I wish she was still in the stable. Yamaha built a true, do it all machine with the FZ6, and I am sure that I could put 75,000 more trouble-free miles on that engine and chassis. 

After putting around 3,000 miles on the 675, I am convinced I made the right choice. I knew I wanted a bike primarily for the track. This is where my efforts have been focused more and more, and I had been gearing up for more track time in other ways as well. I just needed the right tool for the job. I also knew that to buy a larger displacement bike would be a big mistake. My experience with liter bikes has been that the added weight and power can actually hinder your progress as a noob. Best to stay in my comfort zone and master the middleweight. Though there is certainly no lack of power coming from the three cylinder mill. With the Daytona's sharp handling, light weight and ample torque, a skilled rider (not me at this point!) could hang with the big bikes if the pack was mixed.

My first track experience on this ride was at Musselman Honda Circuit this past October. While it was a fun night out, something just felt wrong. I took the D675 over to Evan Steel Performance for a suspension check up. Man! I was struggling against a set up that was way, way out for my body weight and riding style. Got her dialed in, and headed out to Arroyo Seco Raceway in November to see what the new settings would do. The difference was like night and day! I finally was able to feel the handling that the Daytona is so famous for. This little skinny bike that feels so squirrelly around town suddenly came into it's own. It became more planted the more you leaned over into the corners. It snapped back to vertical when getting back on the throttle. Woohoo! As my confidence in the bike and in myself increased throughout the day, I stopped getting passed. I should probably rephrase this. I became a more worthy obstacle to the other, more experienced riders that day. 

The hook has been firmly set now and I want more. I have felt the rush of the throttle fully open on the straights and impossibly hard breaking into the turns. I know that the bike has more to give and that I'm the limiting factor. There will be many more track days in 2016. Of that I am sure.

Arroyo Seco, November 14, 2015

Riding, 10,000 Miles Later

After clocking over 10,000 miles in the saddle of my FZ6, I am still thoroughly in love with riding. I have not had many experiences in life that remain exciting after the break in period, so I'm psyched to see where this goes next...

You Meet the Most Interesting People on a Sportbike

I joined a riding group I found on Meetup last year. Honestly, my expectations of finding like minded friends that ride and share my sensibilities was low. It's a huge group. 650+ enthusiasts, and my distinctly liberal um, mindful er, unique attitude about the world in general places me somewhere on the outskirts. I have been surprised to find there all kinds of  folks  in the group and I have thoroughly enjoyed riding with them. Besides, once helmets are on, and you're off and riding, there isn't any question what we are here to do. At that point, it's just the ride, and we certainly have our love for that in common.

I'd be lying to say that I am not a competitive rider. Mainly the competition exists with myself. I just want to be the most skilled person I can be at this thing. This is for my enjoyment of the sport as much as for my own safety. However, I cannot deal with squidliness.

From Urban Dictionary: "Squid"

A young motorcyclist who overestimates his abilities, boasts of his riding skills when in reality he has none. Squid bikes are usually decorated with chrome and various anodized bits. Rear tyres are too wide for their own good, swingarm extended. Really slow in the corners, and sudden bursts of acceleration when a straight appears. Squids wear no protection, deeming themselves invincible. This fact compounds intself with the fact that they engage in 'extreem riding'--performing wheelies and stoppies in public areas. Squids wreck alot. Derived from 'squirly kid' 

You have all seen these guys. Riding overly loud, aggressive bikes in tank tops and flip-flops. No helmet. Revving at the lights to let everyone know they are boldly existing in your presence. It gives me great pleasure to say adios and drop a squid when the road starts winding. However, squids do two things well: pad the statistics for everyone else, and make highly entertaining YouTube videos. 

I have met some truly skilled riders through the group-the people you gravitate to when you want to learn a lot about bikes and who are willing to share their knowledge to help a new guy out. There are some members that have been riding for 50 years (!) or more who have raced, traveled incredible distances, and who have lived through periods of motorcycling "technology" that thankfully are history now. Their help is key when choosing the right tires, bleeding your brake lines, or figuring out the best way to clean your chain. The fast guys, I mean the really fast guys, the front of the "A group," are often in their late forties or early fifties. They've been around, and their focus is sharp. 

So much of sport riding is unnatural. Staying off the brakes, deep lean angles, keeping calm and simply staying on your line require training to overcome your body's instinct to resist. This is the part of motorcycling that is at once glorious and frustrating as hell. Having someone around that can say "yeah, that's a little freaky." is valuable enough.

My First Little Tour

I got some saddlebags and took off for a couple of days last month. All I can say now about touring is-I get it. I finally get it. I am now able to pardon those guys on big touring bikes. It's tough to avoid all the cliches here, but heading out on unexplored two-lane is so good. I have always liked to drive, and never mind taking on a long day behind the wheel of a car, so I guess this is a natural progression. Sure there are limitations to big miles-the comfort of the machine (about three hours before butt-burn sets in) and the weather. You're in it, for good or bad. But then, you can always stop and get a cup of coffee and chat up the locals, and that's a great thing in itself. There are so many riders out there that someone is bound to ask you about your bike and start recounting their own tales of cycles past. If you're on the road for three hours, take a break, and get back on for three, that's a solid day of riding. I am truly impressed with people that log 8 or 12 hours in the saddle. Never mind the Baja 1000 riders that tear-ass through the desert for 12, 16 or even 18 hours at a time. See Dust to Glory and racer Johnny Campbell if you want to take a look at a truly hardcore rider. 

Johnny Campbell, Baja 1000 Footage

New roads present new challenges as well. My little trip offered up a bit of mountain asphalt unlike I have had a chance to ride before or since. For that stretch of highway 191 (formerly hwy. 666), my style was forced to adapt, and I gained a new technique for the quiver (even though I almost puckered a hole in my drawers while learning it). Most of the riding I have done after this experience has seemed "easy" by comparison. Now I sit around and dream about new terrain.

Updating the Stable

As the footage from the link suggests, I am ready to get dirty. I never thought much on off-road motorcycles. In fact, I would say that I have taken issue with them over the years. I believed that riding in the dirt meant carrying all of your gear to some remote wilderness just to tear up the landscape with knobby rubber. This just seemed so at odds with my "quiet travel in the woods" thing I've had going for so long. Then I met some dirt riders that changed my opinion of all that. There is a seriously large group of conscious "adventure" motorcyclists that use their bikes to get out there further, and to see more than you ever could on foot or on a bicycle. Hell, it's even the fashionable, trendy new thing in the world of motorcycles. Almost every manufacturer now has some version of the adventure bike, or they have one in the works. 

I've had the good fortune to take a few track days on the FZ as well. Nothing can catapult your skills forward like riding at the track. You focus all of your technique, knowledge and physical strength on the singular goal of making that lap time just a bit smaller each time around. The result of this effort for even a few hours at the track is more confidence and control on the street... And a huge desire for more and better bike! As I found with every other sport-there's always a sharper tool for the toolbox. 
My problem is, I want the best, and I can't afford it. No way, no how. So I will wait patiently, save a few bills here and there, and wait for something good to pop up on the used market. 

The Fizzer

My Yamaha FZ6. I couldn't imagine starting on anything else. Lots of people buy a 600cc bike right out of the gate and blow it. They can be plenty intimidating-they have all the speed and power to get you into big trouble really quick. I chose to ride with absolute respect for the bike for about the first 1000 miles, and I think this was key to not eating guardrail during the learning stage. I took as much time as I needed to learn the brakes, the throttle (it's temperamental!), and most importantly the chassis and suspension. This bike, more than a pure-bred supersport requires careful turn-in and throttle control in corners to keep the chassis stable and maintain all the grip you can from the tires. A more expensive bike might not have taught me how this is done. I then took the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course (advanced), which should be a requirement for all riders IMHO.

All in though, she's a great machine. Comfortable on longer rides, a killer engine (derived from the Yamaha R6), and good looks beyond it's price-point. It is also great to know there exists a huge amount of support for this bike worldwide; they were bestsellers in Europe and Asia before they ever arrived in the states. Though you don't see them everyday on the road here, riders of the FZ line share in the common belief that this bike is something special among motorcycles: A bike that is at home chewing up the miles on tour, and sporty enough to keep a smile on your face at the track or slicing up the canyons.

What's next?

More of the same, please. Short rides, long rides, track days, touring. Good friends to share in the addiction. And maybe a new steed in the barn sometime soon?

What You Don't Know Can Hurt You

My little scooter was beginning to feel like a liability. I had been told that these Chinese imports were good for about 10,000 miles at best, and I was rounding 6,000. Time to figure something else out.

I want to say thank you to the universe for what happened next. I found a buyer for my scoot within a day of posting my Craigslist ad, and he was willing to pay $1000. Since I had purchased it the year before for $1200, I was beyond stoked. It was a win-win for both of us. I had done some upgrades to the bike, and it was actually running really well. I felt confident that this kid would see some good mileage before the 10k mark... I even told him about the high probability of engine failure around this time. Chalk that up to my impeccable sales technique.

I sold my scooter with no idea of a replacement vehicle. All I knew was that I wanted to step up to a motorcycle. My childhood dream of owning one had been revived. I would do it this time. I would find out what this was all about, even if I had no idea how it was going to happen. Sometimes you have to just lean back and let the world take care of you.

I searched Craigslist and eBay, all of the local ads and CycleTrader once I had cash in hand. Nothing solid panned out. I just didn't have the cash to get a quality ride. I feared more time wrenching on a less-than-reliable bike than actual time in the saddle. Then I remembered a former client of ours in Sierra Vista, about an hour and a half away. A rabid motorcycle enthusiast, and former MotoGP racer, he had a cadre of bikes filling his garage. His four-wheeled vehicles were relegated to the drive outside, where they baked in the unforgiving Arizona sun. I recalled the beautiful Yamaha sitting idly in a dark corner. It seemed tiny compared to the 1000cc super-sports on stands receiving loving upgrades and maintenance. I remembered the off-hand comment that it was for sale, and for me, at a good price.

It took one call to find out that the price he had in mind was indeed a good one. It was just above half of current value for that year. I knew that he was meticulous about maintaining his stable of cycles, so I bought it, without a test-ride over the phone.

2006 Yamaha FZ6

And so began my new obsession. And the realization that riding a motorcycle is not something that you learn to do, and then relegate the skill to habit much like driving a car. Riding is a life-long learning process. Even veteran riders of 25 or 30 years will say so. You will be adding to your riding skill set until you retire from it altogether. If you are idiot enough to think that motorcycling is a simple thing to learn, and that you've got it figured out after a month or so on the pegs, then you are almost guaranteed a lesson in "what you don't know can hurt you." For as much fun and exhilaration that a motorcycle can offer, they can be scary vehicles even when alone on the road.

That being said, I have never had such a good time on two wheels. Even my daily commute has taken on a new meaning. I thought this after buying the scooter, and thought that it couldn't get any better. I constantly wonder why more people don't take the plunge and buy a bike.

Perhaps most of us want to be disengaged from the drive, taking and making phone calls, listening to music and even watching movies while on the road. It's wrong and unsafe, but our cars have become more living room than automobile. I find it ironic that the very thing that makes riding more unsafe: apathetic drivers, is what keeps most of us off motorcycles in the first place.

With a healthy respect for my bike's speed and power, I am psyched to immerse myself in this entirely new world. It goes deeper than I thought it would, viewing it from the outside.