45 CHOP: Race it

Showing posts with label Race it. Show all posts

Whiter shade of pale

This is the only picture I managed to snap of the bike it it's Red Marley hill climb gear.

It was fucking wild with that WR motor in. Like wrestling a rabid bear.

Photo lifted from instagram. Follow me @milohiscox.

1953 Harley Davidson KRM

1953 KRM
R is for racing
M is for desert
One yr only
Replaced by
1954-57 KHRM
H is for stroker

Dirt Quake

Last weekend I had the pleasure of racing round Coventry speedway stadium at the invitation of the formidable Sideburn boys.

Another typically wet day, I turned up to a ridiculously muddy track with leagues of professionals screaming round it on full race spec bikes. I'm beginning to love that race fuel smell.

Drogo and son and bike

[No special effects here, just a crappy disposable film camera.]

The vintage speedway bikes were b-e-a-utiful!

The corpses from hell boys were out in force, pulling on their boots with pliers...

...and dominating the inappropriate road bikes class on their pit bike engined honda c90s.

Lovely sportster chop complete with compulsory oil slick and back up bottle.

Chopper class baby!

In my first heat I came 4th or 5th. It wasn't a great performance. The previous races had rubbed a thin dry line into the course but either side of it was big trouble. I kept running wide and going all wobbly like. But then I had a Eureka moment on the last corner, right on the dry line I turned the bike past what I thought was it's limit of grip but it didn't slip and just dug in. Such an odd surface, the bike could skid but not completely fall away, like it would on wet grass, and there was a surprising amount of grip hidden away.

In the second heat I was starting on the front line and managed to hold pole despite having a French man right up my arse on a sportster powered krazy horse chop. But then he fell and I cruised to 1st place. To be honest if Dimitri hadn't have been outed, he would definitely have mopped up.

Heat number three I was stuck at 4th place until the last corner where I managed a super sneaky double overtake on the inside and just claimed 2nd place. Heat number four and everyone was getting a lot more confident and a lot more cocky. There were three or four of us in close formation battling at the end and I managed another last minute overtake to grab 3rd place.

Me with the red scarf, above, and on the far right, below, dangerously close to the deep mud.

I was leading on points into the final (God only knows how) which meant that I got to line up first and chose my starting position. Front row, right on the dry stuff. I was pretty fucking nervous, my whole body was cramping up (especially from holding my left leg out with a heavy boot on) and I knew it was all in the start. So the starting line went up, I dropped the clutch and had instant traction, no wheel spin, it just dug in and chugged off the line. 1000cc suzuki inline-four powered chops were spinning out behind me and I just jumped into the lead, cut straight into the corner, closed them off and then managed to hold pole the whole way. It was glorious, transcendental riding, I was so zen I even managed to employ Drogo's keep-your-elbow-up tips and was forcing the bike down in the corners. It wasn't seriously speedway sideways but the rear end was certainly squirming. And I came first, by about half a lap.

Dimitri and Ben

Dimitri's race bike and my sausage finger.

Gary

New Davida helmet

Max

Gracefully modeled grey Davida helmet was my prize

and I got a mean Dirt Quake trophy.

Thanks to Gary and Ben for putting on a truly memorable day!

Red Marley 2012 - Class 1

SUNDAY

Typically mad scramble to get everything ready. Got a old worn motorcross rear tyre on the back in case of rain. Changing tyres is my least favourite task but thank God I did it! Also fabbed the worlds crudest fender mounting bracket for the front and ziptied onto it a plastic trials mudguard. Spring-return throttle? Check. Ball-ended levers? Check. Folding footrests? Check. I wonder how many stock 45s would pass the regulations?

Fixed a monsoon petrol leak on the camper and hit the road.

Renshaw and I walked the hill before dinner. Fuck, my mind had completely played down its memory, it was steep and I was bricking it. I could could hardly climb up the pimple (jump right near the top). There were loose rocks the size of Ralph's head at the top [in hindsight they didn't stay there very long] and brambles.

I slept for 10 mins that night.

MONDAY

Renshaw cooked breakfast. It was delicious. I couldn't eat anything.

Practice started at 9am. Two runs each rider. I was more nervous than I have been in about 5 years, and that's only because I can only remember about 5 years back. Fortunately the other class 1 riders were happy to act as surrogate therapists for the morning.

Cruised up in second gear. Changed down to first just before the pimple and chugged up to the top. Made it up, the elation was something else.

This is Eric Clarke, Class 1 rider, 1949 Matchless 500. Eric is very funny and prone to falling over, especially with a trials rear tyre.

Mike Mellstrom, Matchless 350, first year on the hill. Sean Walsh, AJS 350, came 4th in the final.

Second practice run I did the same thing and just made it up, had to push for the last two feet with my two feet.

Eric didn't.

The track down the hill was harder than the one going up. Bumpy and slippery, old bikes were dropping like flies. I fell over twice. The second time I was pinned under the handlebars and burnt my hand reaching the kill switch trapped under the engine.

Also ripped my trousers at the crotch so went back and made a little bollock protector.

And a kill switch.

Last year's winner - Malcolm Russell - Aeriel 500

The loyal supporters came for a good laugh

For my first heat of the day I was up against this bike. It's beautiful and wiped the floor with me. I was also up against Eric and fighting for second as two would go through to the semi-finals.

Joe Priestly, 64, Norton 490.

It rained all morning and all afternoon. After 300 practice runs it was already a mud-bath.

My first run. 2nd gear was great on the lead up and I powered into second place. Was losing revs so jammed it down into 1st gear before the pimple. You can see me bouncing on the pegs trying to get grip.

Eric also fell but I was higher up the hill and so through to the semis. Getting the bike off the muddy hill was an absolute nightmare. I was sweating like a pig. Sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop. ha ha ha.

Straight into the second run. Jammed down from second gear into first but it was too sudden and I lost all grip. By the time I found it I had lost too much momentum, the bike chugged up but ran out of steam. The other riders were seasoned professionals and were up in about 30 seconds. I couldn't have handled another race.

Broken

Trevor Hodges - BSA B40 350

Vincent Priestly - 1936 BSA 500

1949 Matchless 500

All bikes get another shot in the allcomer's round in the afternoon. Red face Dave talked me into it. I was up against a modern bike and 72 year old Roger Gagg on a Triumph 650. Again, he absolutely demolished me.

I was going to try it all in 2nd gear to avoid the sudden change and loss of grip but I was losing revs and couldn't stop my arm from changing down.

It was like driving on a massive plate of soup and I ran out of grip at the top of the pimple. I was barely moving at the bottom so God knows how I managed the last 20 feet.

It was real fun. That amount of adrenaline and nerves is a test but truly a great weekend. Thanks to Renshaw for looking after me and everyone who came to support.