At Thunderhill the air temperature was in the mid-80's, it was bright, sunny, and windy enough to blow away any canopy that wasn't well tied down. For many riders, this was the first track ride of the season. You could feel the pent up testosterone in the morning riders meeting. I felt both anticipatious and nervous, and not without cause.

The sighting laps were too fast for me. That pent-up testosterone was being released every time a rider whacked open their throttle, I half expected to see the infield start to flood with hormones. It wasn't the BMW's fault that I was slow, I'm just riding with people far more experienced than I am. I felt sorry for every one behind me because even though I was riding as fast as I could, I could feel the vibes from those in-line fours wanting to climb up and over my single cylinder, 52 hp rear end. In retrospect, I should have put myself at the end of the sighting lap line.

In the second morning session, I was starting to get into the swing of it. I got a good angle for Turn 11 and managed to scrape a peg. Harkening back to July, 2002, that sound of metal scraping on tarmac is just not a pleasant sound. Having been well-coached by riding friends, the balls of my feet were on the pegs so I didn't catch a toe on the asphalt which I'm told is a bit of a shock. My first thought was, "I must have been leaning the bike over pretty well to scrape a peg." My second thought was, "Let's not do that again." I was leery of that corner all day.

I bagged the last morning session in favor of an early lunch, and a long nap. When you can sleep well lying on tarmac, you know you are one tired puppy.

After lunch, when the first call came for Group A to be on the track, I pulled a can of Red Bull and a can of Hansens energy drink from the cooler. Peter drank the Red Bull. By the time our group went out on the track, Peter was feeling pretty good. After a few laps he found a rhythm and increased his speed. Near the end of our session he passed me and another rider just after Turn 9 and didn't see the Turn 11 corner worker waving the checkered flag. I could tell he hadn't seen the flag because instead of pulling to the right of the back straight and throwing up his left hand (signaling "I'm going to exit the track") like everyone else, he was clearly on the gas. He noticed something was wrong as he approached Start/Finish. First, there was no one on the track in front of him (everyone in front of him had already exited the track). Second, the red flag was being pointed at him. Peter meekly exited the track just after the Start/Finish tower. Gotta be careful of that Red Bull, it is powerful stuff.

We both opted out of the last session, we had had enough. What a great start to the 2004 track day season. For both Peter and me, the day was about getting back in the groove and keeping the rubber side down, not about setting any personal speed records.

By the time we got home, unloaded the bikes, and had a beer, my brain was empty, null, void, nil-cannot-be-coerced-into-a-real. Beer sure tastes good after a day at the track.

I'll be riding the F3 at Laguna Seca at the end of the month.

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Dennis was my track buddy for my first time at Laguna Seca. We arrived at the paddock gate at 7am after a two-hour drive. By the time we had our pit area set up and were registered and the bikes were technically inspected, I was on the verge of nausea. Laguna Seca is a world-class race track; this is where the annual Superbike races are held, the "Superbowl" of motorcycle racing. During the riders meeting, as he does in every riders meeting, the event manager, Lance Keigwin, reminded us of the content in the waiver we had all signed. "This event is for advanced riders, not beginners." I've been riding about two years now, with one season of track riding. I consider myself a beginner. What in heaven's name am I doing here?

I look at the riders who are in their 60's and 70's - their faces are weathered, much like their leathers. Their bikes are immaculately clean and fast. They ride in the "A" group, carving smooth lines, knees feather brushing the tarmac in the corners, making it all look effortless. This is where I want to be in ten years. I want to be a sixty-year-old moto chick with a beautiful, fast bike, riding with the seasoned riders, still shaving tenths of seconds off my lap times. "How do you climb a mountain?" "One step at a time."

So I'm at Laguna Seca experiencing visceral conflict; my stomach wants to release breakfast against gravity, my heart/mind is pleased to be here. My brain stayed out of the fray, in fact, it disengaged. During the second lap of the sighting laps, the bike stopped responding the throttle. I coasted to the edge of Turn 4, and paddle walked the bike off the track. "Hmm, the electrical system is working, did I turn the fuel valve to the "open" position?" I already knew the answer as I reached down to feel for the valve. Yup, closed. Sigh. I opened the valve and tried to restart the bike. Being in a less-than-graceful state, instead of flicking the power switch toggle, I pushed it out of its mounting. Just at that moment, a track "big shot" pulled up next to me and asked what the problem was. During every session, there are designated senior riders trolling around looking for opportunities to help. I was so embarrassed at this point that the fellow had to help me get the bike started again. I had been riding behind Dennis, but there was no way I was going to catch up to him. I rode the remainder of the track, nearly running off the track in the "corkscrew" and exited as soon as I could. Not an auspicious beginning.

Mikail, a fellow whom Dennis had met at a previous track event, and his bike, a green hornet Kawasaki ZZR1200, joined us. We walked over to Turn 3 to watch the riders come through. We hadn't been there very long when an "A group" rider came through leaned over hard, but carrying too much speed to hold the angle through the turn. The bike low-sided, slide across the tarmac, flipped over and came to rest in the dirt in front of the fence in front of us. I was sure the bike was toast, but both the bike and the rider were on the track later, and for the rest of the day.

While the "B+ group" rode, we moseyed back to the paddock. As we got ready for the first "B- group" session, Dennis said, "we're just gonna ride around in a circle". I smiled at his over-simplification, but his words were calming. Dennis lead and I followed. He kept the speed so modulated that he probably didn't get out of third gear. I just followed, fighting to keep a clear head. Not only was this track new territory to learn, I hadn't been on the F3 for six months and had to learn to ride it all over again. I don't ride my BMW with my chest resting on the gas tank or my feet tucked up high.

The second session, Dennis repeated, "we're gonna ride around in a circle" and took the lead again. It was another low-speed confidence building session. Dennis suggested one change, maintain the exit speed from Turn 3 and carry it into Turn 4. I had been upshifting, then slowing down and downshifting. Following Dennis' suggestion increased the amount of speed I could tolerate in Turn 4.

As we started the bikes for the third session, I smiled at Dennis, "we're gonna ride around in a circle." Dennis increased speed of each lap. As agreed, I passed Dennis in the fourth lap, and he watched my lines for one lap. He passed me and set a relatively aggressive pace for the last two laps. Mind you, we were still being passed by everyone, but I didn't care. Today wasn't about going fast; today was about learning a new track, riding the F3, and keeping the rubber side down. At the end of the session, I was feeling better about the track; no nausea. We were ready for lunch, and a nap. I curled up in the tarp that we use as a sun shade.

The first session after lunch, Dennis suggested that we slow the pace down. Fine with me. The result of riding more slowly was that I was able to identify reference points for every turn.

There were two more sessions, but I knew I'd be able to finish only one. We had ridden all the previous sessions to the checkered flag, I only had a few functioning brain cells left. We still had to pack up, drive home, and unpack. I needed those few brain cells. Dennis and I agreed that he would pace me for one lap, then he would take off and ride with Mikail. And take off he did. I lost sight of them in no time but I was fine on my own.

What a feeling to be riding Laguna Seca. The track entry is just before Turn 2, the Andretti hairpin, a tight two-for-one left hander; Turn 3, a slippery, negative camber right turn; Turn 4, another right turn that you can haul butt through. Turn 5 is the first time you're on the left side of the tire. Going into Turn 6, you're hauling up hill past the sound booth, hoping like crazy that the roar out of your exhaust pipe is under 96 decibels. Turn 6 is a fast, slippery left turn that takes you into the Rahal straight. Turn 7 is a right hander that sets you up for the "corkscrew", Turns 8 and 8a.

The corkscrew is physically a four-story twisting drop. Dennis described it as a rhythm turn. He showed me the rhythm by dancing a few waltz steps with me in the pit. 1-2-3, 1-2-3... but it is the male's perspective of the waltz, left first, followed by the right; not the female perspective which is right first, followed by the left. The left-flick right-flick now-haul-some-butt is also the pattern for Thunderhill's Turn 5, but the corkscrew is tighter and less forgiving if you screw it up. You can haul around Turn 9, Rainey Curve, and Turn 10, but you have to scrub off a lot of speed to make Turn 11. Dennis says there's a dip in Turn 11, but I didn't notice it. Then, you can whack the throttle open and scream down the front straight at 150 mph (as recommended by Keigwin's contract with Mazda Laguna Seca, seriously!). Turn 1 is more like a bend than a turn, it's a good warning to get ready for the Andretti hairpin.

I may have hit 90 mph in the straight a few times, although Dennis thinks we were doing around 100 mph in the last lap of the third session. I don't much care about speed or lap times at this point. I'm just happy to have a good sense of the track - I can run it in my mind's eye, and, I have a written list of the reference points to use next time. As for the sound booth check, I didn't get black-flagged (three strikes and you're out), so I'm assuming the F3's Vance and Hines after-market pipe is okay. This bike's previous owner never rode at it at Laguna Seca, so we have no previous data; Peter might still get black-flagged when he rides it.

I joined AFM as an associate (non-racing member) this year, and was assigned number 63. Laguna Seca and now Infineon/Sears Point require numbers on all bikes so that if you are too loud, they know who black-flag. Dennis' AFM novice number is 663, a nice synergistic coincidence.

By 5:30pm we were packed up and heading home. After sitting still in the truck for only an hour, getting out to eat dinner reminded me of how much a rider uses her body riding on a track. And I wasn't using my body well. I was sore in places that echoed my lack of familiarity with the F3's riding position and sportbike riding techniques. When I woke up the next morning I felt like I had been hit by a truck, and my brain was still fried. But I have a grin on my face, because I get to ride this track again in the fall.

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