I almost never use the rear brake; I use the front brake out of habit. After reading a Cycle World article on cornering in slow, really tight corners, I started experimenting with using the rear brake to keep the load off the front end. This works nicely although I have to be thinking to remember to do it.

As I write this, my right leg is resting on the table top and I have a cold pack on my newly sprained ankle. I must have been begging for a lesson on slow turns. I was in a parking lot, taking a slow turn to put the bike between the white lines, facing out. I was using the front brake didn't think about the fact that I had lost most of my forward momentum.

The bike tipped over and fell to the ground. I ended up sitting on the ground with my ankle trapped under the bike. From where I was sitting I could not wrest my leg free. Two ladies who had just pulled into the parking lot helped me lift the bike up an inch so that I could pull my foot out - once again those Daytona boots saved me from a worse injury. Two guys helped me get the bike standing upright. I was very lucky, the only body work casualty was the feeler on the right foot peg and some brake fluid leakage. My ankle tendons are a different story - I expect I'll be gimping around for a couple of weeks. So, big lesson: in slow tight turns, use the rear brake.

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Last weekend was a pit crew marathon for me. Saturday and Sunday at Thunderhill with a friend, and Monday with Peter who rode the Buttonwillow track for the first time. Both stayed upright and rode well.

Frankenbik3 has new skin. Peter has always had a fantasy of a British racing green MGB GT. I thought that the bike's screaming sunflower yellow wheels would go well with British racing green. What we have now is a bike that attracts big black bumble bees, "Looks like a sun flower, why doesn't it smell like a sun flower?" Frankly, the bike looks like it ought to have a John Deere logo on it instead of a Honda logo. I like it, if nothing else, it is unique.

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I've added an article about how to be a track buddy at a non-racing track day. If you are interested in reading about what it takes to support a track rider, please check it out. My intent is two-fold, 1) create an elaborate checklist for myself 2) entertain those of you who are curious about what it is like being at the track.

The major topics are:

How Does a Day Go?- What you can generally expect of a day at the track.

Before You Leave For The Track - A list of pit and bike equipment, food/drink, clothing to pack, a note about renting trucks/vans.

At The Track - You will set up the pit, support your rider(s) before and after their riding sessions, tear down the pit after the sessions are over. I also talk about what to do if your rider goes down.

After the Track Day is Over - Suggestions for managing your tired and cranky rider. Once home, everyone's tired, but you aren't done yet, the bike and equipment has to be unloaded and put away.

I wrote this article because the writing muse seized my hands and forced me to write. It must be therapy for Stage 2 of my motorcycle obsession. Why, why, why has the track become such an important place? I can only answer that from the perspective of my zen training.

For me, riding is like sitting zazen - riding is an opportunity to practice complete awareness. Being a track buddy is like being jisha at a sesshin. The winter sesshin I attend annually is an 8-day meditation retreat. Lest you think that I'm blissing-out, it is grueling but worthwhile experience. The Jisha is the person who gets up at 3:15 a.m. (nearly an hour before every one else) and prepares tea and coffee for the people before the first morning sit which start at 4:30 a.m. There are more duties during the day.

After the final mandatory sit which is over at 10pm, the Jisha is responsible for beverages and snacks for the people before they go to bed. This service to the sesshin community sounds simple but I assure you that being Jisha is a huge responsibility. The person in the Jisha post doesn't get much sleep. Jisha goes to bed after the last person has left the kitchen, sometimes 11 p.m and falls into bed. If the Jisha does his job well, he provides comfort and relief from the intensity of the 16 hours of meditation a day; it is a practice in compassion.