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F**k! I crashed.
I...don't...crash.
I'm pissed.
Saturday racing only again this round, race 3 GTL and race 4 F50 Lights.
I love my Conti tires and contingency. But after 2 weeks of emails and phone calls they only "found" my credits from round 1 so far. OK, it's a start. I ordered the new set of DOT's I needed after sliding the rear all last round and they were promised here by Friday. Friday night, no tires. It's pouring out so I mount my rains and load up.
Saturday morming I wake up to puffy clouds and a little sun. I unload at the track, switch to my DOT wheels and get out for second practice. I felt fast, was slow as usual, but Arcy had the remote camera set up in T9 and hopefully got a few good shots of me.
Back in from practice I go to wrap the tires up and notice the left side of my rear is really toast, so I roll it to Miles to flip it. He says it's too far gone and says try a Bridgestone slick. They have great contingency and Gino was there to preach his B'Stone sermon so I wilted under the pressure but decided to keep my older DOT front on there as it's been behaving fine and not looking too bad.
I arrange for my support team Sal & Jill to revive me on pregrid between races and then grid up second for the GTL next to Shane Lewis on pole. Green flag drops, I wheelie big, bring it down, hit the limiter, miss a shift, and am now 4th into T1 after #212 Lou Peck and #130 Ben Travisano go blasting by me (they would have taken me soon anyway). I settle into a lonely 4th place and start to feel out my new rear slick/old DOT front combo. The bike is tipping in slower and feels a little awkward during flops but nothing I can't deal with, and the new rear is sticking like glue of course. I am keeping the top 3 in sight, trying to stay loose and settle into a faster groove with three laps in the 23's. #201 Jake Vader drafts by into T1 on his 125 two stroke on lap 5 so I try to keep him in sight for the rest of the lap.
Then at the apex of T11 as I'm releasing the brake and lining up12a the front tire suddenly squeals, flops, hops twice, catches again, I scrape hard parts and then my beloved SV miraculously rights itself and continues on. I take it down a notch while I marvel at WTF just happened, if-TF it will happen again, and remind myself that I'm supposed to survive this AND podium in the next race.
It is a great plan for 3 laps or so until #109 John Dorans, Jr. passes me into T1 while I'm still smelling the roses. Not again you bastard! I shadow him for a lap, see he is weaker into T1 and T3 and take him in the T3 chute on the next lap. I go a little wide but keep him behind me while I reel off 5 more laps in the 23's getting faster towards the end of the race as usual.
And then trail braking hard into T11 with the white flag in sight, in blissful denial of my earlier miracle, I hear that awful screeching again from the front tire and watch my bike spin away towards the outer curb just like in the everyone else's vids. I flopped onto my belly and crawled into the grass as a corner worker ran over [BTW I found a lap timer in the grass, gave it to the CW if anyone lost one there recently]. What is that awful noise? Oh, the horn button is pressed into the pavement. I don't remember the protocol, do I just stay here in my helmet and leathers while he ventures into the crash zone and fetches my bike? I stand up to help, but am tired enough that I almost sit back down in the grass again. He fetches my bike, says it looks OK and I should hop on and finish. How about YOU hop on and finish? I catch my breath for a bit and realize he's right. The shifter is pretzeled but still moves, the clip-on bar is bent and controls rotated but nothing's broke, so I ease onto the straight and finish 9th of 11 instead of what should have been 4th. I wave off my water crew waiting at pre-grid for
race 4 and roll back to my pit. At least I set a new PB, right? I sure was flying out there.............ah, nope.
I hate this. I don't crash, that's my thing. Slow steady progress, ride smart, stay relaxed, feel what the tires are doing, let the fast come gradually and naturally. My pristine original tank has its first ever scratches and dent. I'll get over it, it's a race bike, I knew it would happen eventually. But I'm pissed. And it wasn't the tires fault. I just stopped paying attention to what they were saying, even after the previous wake-up call in the exact same spot. If I was relaxed enough on the bars I might have saved it again.
I still had a blast. It didn't rain for my race, $14 is the laughable cost to get my bike back on track, my gear is scuffed but not damaged and I have no soreness and not a mark on me. I'll take it.
Big thanks to my pitmates in the infield, all cornerworkers (especially the T12 crew) and LRRS staff.
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Originally Posted by brady
. And I hope you're not too sore this week from your off.
). Time to admit tires are consumables, like lunch and gas 
.
#racerboiproblems <----did I really just write that?
