It’s a week after my R1 debut at Oulton Park and here I am, on time and safely included for the morning briefing. After the shambolic outward journey
to the track last week I’d made better preparations this time, arising earlier and better prepared for the soon to be endured motorway misery. Just before
stepping out I decided to fit a clear visor as, even though it was only minutes from the designated “sunrise” time, it was a bit too dark to ride in full safety
with my dark-tinted summer visor.
It was just as well that I was early out of bed as the clear visor I selected wouldn’t close, even though it snapped on to the Arai with neither hesitation nor
resistance, it was obvious that the bugger wouldn’t shut, so, after a very brief struggle, I reverted to the “tinter”, left the house and went to the bike. Then
I went
back to the house for the bike keys and the glove that I’d left on the table, all the while reminding myself to remain calm and unexcited: I had plenty
to work on today and I needed to keep a clear head.
After the first Oulton stint I’d re-adjusted the clip-ons, brake, clutch and gear levers and I felt more comfortable and confident now as I made my way through
the traffic on a journey that was, thankfully, uneventful. As I reached the last mile of or so before turning off for the track I had a couple of bikes in tow – not
unusual, of course on a trackday morning – but when I parked up I was pleased to see an ex-partner in crime grinning his way towards me after I’d removed my
helmet – he was on the GSXR 1000 that had followed me in. We’d done a few days together in the distant past and, with greetings duly exchanged, we agreed to
get some laps in, later in the day.
Just before the briefing another familiar face approached, all smiles and handshakes and I was “Billy-no-mates” no more as, relaxed and happy, I made my way
to noise testing before finding a place in a garage. No noise problem, but this time I remembered to ask: “What’s it putting out?” “A hundred and one” came the
reply, but as he pressed the noise test sticker onto the nose of the bike his raised eyebrows warned me that I was very close to the 102DB limit – I’ll be carrying
the DB killers with me from now on!
I got myself garaged and set about removing the mirrors (I hate folding them back – makes the bike look like a terrified rabbit), taping up the brake light (so
rude not to do so, in my book!) and generally settling myself down for the morning sessions. The weather was good and the temperature was on the rise, but
I could see there were a few signs of dampness on the main straight, so a steady hand would be required in the early morning, at least. I checked the bike one
more time, then waited for the call for the fast group, which came soon enough.
Sitting in the line as the marshal approaches, checking stickers and wristbands, I’ve got my glove unfastened to display mine and he glances and nods his
approval – then stands in front of the bike, pen poised to validate the stickers on the screen – but he looks puzzled. “Where’s your date sticker?” “What?
What?”
I say. Taken completely by surprise, I’m lost for words! “Your date sticker. Sorry mate – I can’t let you out without a date sticker.” And then I remember:
I’d signed on, got my wristbands, picked up my licence and fast group sticker – which I must have dropped when I was swanning about doing my “meet and greet”
with my old acquaintances. Bollocks!
I’m furious with myself as, while riders flow out onto the track, I leave the pit lane, turning to ride through the nearest garage and into a fiery world of rage,
fuelled by my own stupidity. “You’ve done so many trackdays it should be second nature to you by now… What the hell are you like…?” and so on as I search for
an official who can get me a replacement sticker – but everyone’s busy.
Thoroughly disgusted with myself I ride back to my garage to check my backpack. As I dismount I unzip my spanking new leathers to check my pockets. Out of
habit I put my right hand in first – nothing there – then I remember there are
two internal pockets in my spanking new leathers. I search with my left hand and the
sticker’s in there, no doubt thrust away unknowingly as I was shaking hands with my friends – what a dolt!
I manage to get three laps in the first session and the gear changing is fine, so I know I can start to concentrate now on my riding. During the second and third
sessions I recalibrate braking points and corner entry and start to get comfortable. I pass a few riders, but I’m also passed several times by those on dedicated,
track-tuned machines because they’re much harder on the gas than me on corner exit - so I work on this during the last session of the morning. I don’t try to stay
with them – that would be asking too much – but I’m pleased to note that I can match some of them on braking and my corner speed is sometimes a little better
than theirs. Still – getting out of the corner needs more work.
In the afternoon I get a session in with my pal. We’ve not seen each other for a couple of years, during which time he’s been on his GSXR 1000 and, while we’re all
smiley-miley and luvved-up as we chat before our session, the old rivalry simmers quietly under the surface. We’re released onto the track and I’m suddenly very high
on adrenaline – oh, dear – here we go again! Leaving pit lane the excitement subsides and my concentration kicks in. We’re both on road bikes and I used to have the
edge on him, but…
Back in the garage I’m grinning to myself as I discard my sweaty helmet and unzip the top of my leathers to let a bit of air in – it’s been a good session and I’ve learnt
more about the bike because I was riding more aggressively and getting higher-grade feedback from tyres and track as a result. The quiet, concentrated work I’d done
in the morning had paid off and, even more importantly, he hadn’t passed me. Fookin’ ace!
He joins me in the garage a few minutes later and his words are music to my ears: “There was no way I could pass you! In some places I was closing you down a tiny bit,
but then you’d pull it back somewhere else.” Then, the icing on the cake: “Just take it easy on those tyres, though. I thought they were 2CT’s but they’re not, are they?”
(The bike came with Michelin Pilot Roads.) “Well” I said, “I never got any warnings – everything felt fine.” “Maybe – but you were leaving black lines coming out of the
corners, you won’t
get a warning with those things on it!”
I kid ye not, I was totally made up!
In fact, I was
so made up that when I got home I agreed with Lorraine that a long weekend in Anglesey is
definitely the way to go –
- so we’ll be there, 21-24 October.
Hope the weather holds!