This entry comes to you from Dennis, one of my track buddies. He had an interesting experience at Thunderhill, July 19th, the AFM New Racer School.

The air temperature was more than 105 degrees and I didn't want to know the track temperature.

Thirty or so aspiring club racers sweltered in their leathers astride their bikes in the pre-grid area. The orders were simple. Do two twenty minute sessions with instructors circulating among us and we'd be fine. As long as we did not crash, that is, we'd be fine.

AFM speedy guy Gary Jaehne took off his helmet and worked the grid, shaking hands, smiling, meeting the group, putting us at ease. We'd been prepped all morning long by Joe Montoya, AFM president with a dry sense of humor, Bob Karol, former GP racer and Barb, the AFM race director. Among my notes from that morning was the following entry:

"(Joe) If bike wobbles, don't chop throttle. Don't over-demand traction. Don't stiff-arm."

The first session was uneventful. Every candidate stayed on the asphalt and the instructors seemed satisfied. We returned for a second session in mid-afternoon. Green flag at pre-grid and we were off. By the time I was in second gear I was completely unaware of the temperature.

I conjured up my relaxation visual - I'm slumped over like I'd been shot in the back of the head - and told myself to work an easy pace. Speed was not the primary criterion for passing the school. The first lap felt great. Gary wove through the cluster of bikes with his left hand on his hip, sitting nearly sideways on his Kawasaki, looking back at our lines. He made helpful gestures. Out a little here, tighten it up there. At the end of the first lap, barreling down the front straight, I felt solid and decided to pick up the pace a bit.

Turn one felt brisk and the tire grip was excellent. I entered turn two in fourth gear with the bike positioned mid track. After turning in I pulled into one quarter track from the left. My head was up, watching Gary, looking ever so casual, fifty yards ahead of me. Two thirds of the way through turn two, with my eyes now fixed on the 3-board brake marker leading into turn three, I felt a light shuddering sensation.

The bike was perfectly steady in each axis - pitch, roll and yaw. It was moving in a way that I'd experienced before, but not on a bike. When flying in a crosswind an aircraft will have a difference between its heading and its track over the ground. In a few nanoseconds I realized that this was the motion I was getting in turn two. The entire bike was sliding sideways! It was just like turning to final approach at an aircraft carrier with an "overshooting crosswind." [Dennis has landed jets on aircraft carriers, he knows what he is talking about here. - Cecilie]

My motorcycle mentor, Bob Tigert, had told me that my Dunlop 208 tires would offer forgiving performance when they started to slide. Joe Pardo at MotoJava had told me the same thing when he put the tires on the bike. Moving now through parallel lines toward the outside of the turn I thought, "light hands, steady throttle, wait for the hook-up."

As I was sliding, Gary looked over his shoulder and gave the "Tighten your line" signal. I laughed in my helmet, wishing I could tell Gary, "Dude, I would if I could, but I'm along for the ride right now."

As predicted by Joe and Bob, the tires smoothly transitioned from the slide to forward motion and once again my heading and my track were the same. It felt cool to experience the slide and to come out of it with no weaving or wobbling. Incorporating Joe Montoya's admonition not to chop the throttle into the cornering performance made me feel as if I'd stepped up another short rung in the never-ending skills climb.

* * *

I expect Dennis will be start experimenting with power-sliding through turn ten at Thunderhill any time now. [I'm rolling my eyes and shaking my head. And smiling.]

* * *

There's a saying, "If it has got tits, tires, or testicles, you're gonna have trouble with it." Couldn't be more true of an older race bike. The clue was head chatter. Hare Racing just tightened the F3's steering head bolts and fixed the blown fork seal. Because it is an older bike and it has been ridden hard (not by us), I'm extra vigilant about that bike. Dennis, Peter, and I will be back at Thunderhill at the end of August for another sauna.

Aprilia just announced the 2004 Mille RSV. Smaller, lighter, more powerful than last year. Maybe there will be one at the annual motorcycle show near the end of the year - I'd like to butt-test it. I tried the BMW Rockster - too big for me. Still, what do I need with 138 hp maximum power? Oh, I don't know...(smile). Oh yeah, the new Ducati Multistrata 1000 DS has also caught my eye. I butt-tested it - too tall, but with modifications, it didn't feel too big. Interesting.

Peter rode on Sunday and got some significant "checks in the block" as Dennis says. To wit:

• knee-dragging
• bee in the bonnet
• first crash

This was his third time ever on a track, second time at Thunderhill. He was working on body positioning all morning. In the session right after lunch he touched his knee down in turn 11. When I asked him about it, he said it felt like "the ground is here". Not like an electric jolt through the body? No, just a calm, "the ground is here".

What he didn't say until later was that he was yelling "Yahoo!" in his helmet. Doubly impressive about this event is that his pants are kind of tight, he has to pull the pant legs up to get any freedom of motion for the knees to open outward.

As for the bee, well, it was just looking for moisture and Peter's sweat looked good. The bee sighted a rivulet running down Peter's neck, crawled up under his helmet and then got stuck behind his ear. Not a good place. The bee expressed its sentiments with the means nature gave it. Peter finished his lap, pulled into the pit, removed his helmet and asked in a normal tone of voice, "Is there a bee behind my ear?" Yes, there was. I dispatched it quickly.

Apparently people open their visors while on the track to get a little air. Sometimes they get more than air. This isn't what happened to Peter, but a bee in the bonnet isn't uncommon.

You may remember that turn 5 was where I first crashed. It was the classic low-side off to the right side of the track. Peter acknowledges that he was coming into turn 5 too hot (too fast). He says he steered it hard over to the left, which is generally okay. Usually you follow that maneuver with a flick to the right, you sail smoothy down the 5A hill and you are on your merry way.

Likely the combination of coming in too hot and turning too hard caused the low-side. Both the bike and Peter slide across the tarmac and down the hill on the left side of the track. Both shoulders of Peter's jacket show abrasion, so he must have rolled at least once. The bike ended up on lying on its left side against the hill, handlebar dug into the dirt, the wheels higher than the seat, effectively upside down. The impact to left side of the bike was mitigated by the frame slider. The fairing stay is bent about 30 degrees off center. The glass on the temperature gauge is cracked. There was dirt everywhere inside the bike. I sifted through the dirt in the lower fairing, looking for parts that might have dropped off. I found a wonderful desiccated grasshopper carcass and a couple washers, but nothing else of interest. I guess the screws are buried in the turn 5 dirt.

The F3 is serving its purpose beautifully. We wanted a bike that we could ride on the track without the burdensome thought of "what if I crash it?" The body work can be repaired. This may be a good opportunity to paint the bike proper Honda colors despite the fact that Peter and I both like the green. The F3 doesn't like being green. The forks look straight, and the bike runs fine, so maybe we're going to get lucky. Perhaps it time to get the bike computracked to make sure the frame isn't bent. Truth be told, I am glad that Peter crashed it before I did. The more sorry truth is that I hope I'm not next.

I was supposed to ride the next day. Obviously I didn't. Maybe someday I'll have enough knowledge, experience, and tools to take the bike apart, wield an acetylene torch with consummate skill, and restore the bike to at least working order. I spent my track day cleaning the bike, and being Dennis' pit babe.

Several people offered to let me ride their bike, including Dennis. While I appreciate the generosity, I would be too nervous about wadding up someone else's bike. Furthermore, this was an open track day with a hot track, that is, no groups. You just ride when you want for as long you want. It seemed like all the participants had numbers on their bikes. Two guys in the paddock were talking about their sub-two minute lap times. That's fast. Too fast for me, I'll be sticking to group-structured track days for a while.

I think I might have lucked out. The idea of being out there with racing types reminds me of that sick feeling I get when I realize I'm the most junior and smallest person on the mat. I would like to think that had the F3 been ridable, I would have gotten out there, ridden my own lines, and taken the opportunity to start getting accustomed to being passed on the inside and outside by bikes moving so fast that to them, I appear to be standing still. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be out there yesterday. Rationalization? Sure.

I signed up for Streets of Willow next month with Pacific Track Time, another top notch track day organizer. Of course I'll continue to ride with Keigwins, it is just that we had to move our CLASS date, so now Peter and I will be riding Streets of Willow instead of Infineon (formerly Sears Point). Pacific Track Time has a date at Streets of Willow in September, and Kegwins@theTrack doesn't. We are spoiled here in California, good tracks available nearly year 'round, and several good track day organizers to choose from.