As RAGE prepares for the LOWSIDE...
Posted: Tue May 12, 2009 5:23 pm
Riding is such a mental game. I say that because you have to be as mentally prepared as anything. Many racers will see the race played over in their heads many times before the race begin. It should be a similar thing for all riders, that ability to prepare for the next corner, intersection or traffic jam. Knowing what to do before you get there is going to help you make it around that point and get you ready for the next challenge.
Weather.com showed a beautiful forecast for the morning, very few clouds, a little wind and a high around 73. That's perfect conditions for any rider. So my plan was to get in a little Pre-Track Day ride so I could make sure everything was buttoned up and holding together for the real fun. Little did I know what my Pre-Track Day Prep would present me with.
Treloar to McKittrick is a paradise for riders in the St. Louis area. It is frequented by sportbikes and cruisers alike for its twisty roads, negative and positive cambered corners that rise and fall with the gorgeous landscape. Amazingly, the speed limit is 55, but if it were in anywhere else besides the country, it would be 30 - tops. Hidden driveways, turkey vultures feeding on road kill, very slow, road hogging farm machinery and gravel spilling dump trucks were just some of the hazards along the way. All of which make this a little scarier than riding at a Track Day. At a Track Day, you have a staff of people to come to your rescue. Airbags, tires and hay bales line the track walls to stop you and your bike quickly and to reduce injuries to you and the other riders. No such luck here on Hwy 94. If you lose it, then barbed wire will ultimately stop you and your precious machine from damaging the local farmer's crops. The price you pay to spill your bike out here is high. If you're alone when you tumble, then the next tractor that comes by may have a way of communicating with urban life - but probably not.
After suiting up in full leathers, my new Scorpion helmet, I saddled into the GSXR and headed off to a local gas station to fuel up and meet my good friend, Steve. Steve rides a Yamaha FZ6 and is a very capable rider thanks to his many years riding dirt bikes.
After several miles of the usual route, down through New Melle and Dutzow, to get to Treloar, I took the lead today going west. Gas, brake, gas, brake – it’s a cycle that continues for several miles through the windy, tree embellished, and surprisingly well paved asphalt road. Many times small blossoms on the road looked like gravel, so caution was on the mind. There was no goal other than get a little workout and do some mind and body prep for the corners, so speed wasn’t a major factor. That doesn’t mean that the “Caution” signs were going to deter us from keeping a slightly better than average pace.
All went well and quick, so we stopped at a local Germantown winery and thoroughly enjoyed the perfectly spiced bratwurst with kraut and extremely tasty German potato salad. After relaxing inside in the antique, but air-conditioned dining room, we decided to head back and this time Steve took the lead.
Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. A large truck carrying a water tank was the first vehicle we past. We then stopped at a construction stoplight where workers were fixing a bridge. We then found ourselves with open road with no vehicles in front of us. It’s a blessing and a curse to have vehicles in front of you. On one hand, they keep you at a safer pace, they show what lies ahead and pave the way in case something might be in the road. On the other hand, they slow you down – period. Steve kept a decent pace, not going full bore, knee sliding in the corners, but a healthily speed that allowed us to maneuver corners still with ease and be able to stop on a dime if we needed to.
So what came next was a real shock to me. We came to a tight, left hand corner with limited visibility; I then began my turn in a semi-upright position. I noticed that Steve wasn’t hanging off his bike, so I should have been fine with my positioning. Suddenly, I found myself in a terrible position and definitely not where I wanted to be. I must have hit the apex too early and that was making my bike track straight for a field instead of around the bend. I scanned old, round wooden fence posts fortified with barbed wire and I knew this was going to turn out for the worst. My mind was racing with thoughts of “Damn, I’m going to miss the Track Day”, “I knew I should have put on a racing stator cover”, “My wife is going to kill me”, “How am I going to get the bike home?”, “I can’t afford another bike now!”, “Do frame sliders do anything?”. My first real defensive thought was to let the bike go off into the field by itself. My instinct; however, was to prepare for a low-side, so I did – prepare, that is. Michelin had done their job well because the bike did not slide as anticipated. With the bike being laid down to low-side, I hit the ground with my left knee slider. The bike held its grip and pulled me out of the direction of going into the field, but started taking me into the left lane. I hit the throttle slightly and the bike up righted itself and put me back on course. The sign of relief I felt could not have been evident to anyone but me. Steve didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I had him pull over a few miles down the road. He couldn’t believe it and neither could I. I will see the Track Day after all…
Weather.com showed a beautiful forecast for the morning, very few clouds, a little wind and a high around 73. That's perfect conditions for any rider. So my plan was to get in a little Pre-Track Day ride so I could make sure everything was buttoned up and holding together for the real fun. Little did I know what my Pre-Track Day Prep would present me with.
Treloar to McKittrick is a paradise for riders in the St. Louis area. It is frequented by sportbikes and cruisers alike for its twisty roads, negative and positive cambered corners that rise and fall with the gorgeous landscape. Amazingly, the speed limit is 55, but if it were in anywhere else besides the country, it would be 30 - tops. Hidden driveways, turkey vultures feeding on road kill, very slow, road hogging farm machinery and gravel spilling dump trucks were just some of the hazards along the way. All of which make this a little scarier than riding at a Track Day. At a Track Day, you have a staff of people to come to your rescue. Airbags, tires and hay bales line the track walls to stop you and your bike quickly and to reduce injuries to you and the other riders. No such luck here on Hwy 94. If you lose it, then barbed wire will ultimately stop you and your precious machine from damaging the local farmer's crops. The price you pay to spill your bike out here is high. If you're alone when you tumble, then the next tractor that comes by may have a way of communicating with urban life - but probably not.
After suiting up in full leathers, my new Scorpion helmet, I saddled into the GSXR and headed off to a local gas station to fuel up and meet my good friend, Steve. Steve rides a Yamaha FZ6 and is a very capable rider thanks to his many years riding dirt bikes.
After several miles of the usual route, down through New Melle and Dutzow, to get to Treloar, I took the lead today going west. Gas, brake, gas, brake – it’s a cycle that continues for several miles through the windy, tree embellished, and surprisingly well paved asphalt road. Many times small blossoms on the road looked like gravel, so caution was on the mind. There was no goal other than get a little workout and do some mind and body prep for the corners, so speed wasn’t a major factor. That doesn’t mean that the “Caution” signs were going to deter us from keeping a slightly better than average pace.
All went well and quick, so we stopped at a local Germantown winery and thoroughly enjoyed the perfectly spiced bratwurst with kraut and extremely tasty German potato salad. After relaxing inside in the antique, but air-conditioned dining room, we decided to head back and this time Steve took the lead.
Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. A large truck carrying a water tank was the first vehicle we past. We then stopped at a construction stoplight where workers were fixing a bridge. We then found ourselves with open road with no vehicles in front of us. It’s a blessing and a curse to have vehicles in front of you. On one hand, they keep you at a safer pace, they show what lies ahead and pave the way in case something might be in the road. On the other hand, they slow you down – period. Steve kept a decent pace, not going full bore, knee sliding in the corners, but a healthily speed that allowed us to maneuver corners still with ease and be able to stop on a dime if we needed to.
So what came next was a real shock to me. We came to a tight, left hand corner with limited visibility; I then began my turn in a semi-upright position. I noticed that Steve wasn’t hanging off his bike, so I should have been fine with my positioning. Suddenly, I found myself in a terrible position and definitely not where I wanted to be. I must have hit the apex too early and that was making my bike track straight for a field instead of around the bend. I scanned old, round wooden fence posts fortified with barbed wire and I knew this was going to turn out for the worst. My mind was racing with thoughts of “Damn, I’m going to miss the Track Day”, “I knew I should have put on a racing stator cover”, “My wife is going to kill me”, “How am I going to get the bike home?”, “I can’t afford another bike now!”, “Do frame sliders do anything?”. My first real defensive thought was to let the bike go off into the field by itself. My instinct; however, was to prepare for a low-side, so I did – prepare, that is. Michelin had done their job well because the bike did not slide as anticipated. With the bike being laid down to low-side, I hit the ground with my left knee slider. The bike held its grip and pulled me out of the direction of going into the field, but started taking me into the left lane. I hit the throttle slightly and the bike up righted itself and put me back on course. The sign of relief I felt could not have been evident to anyone but me. Steve didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I had him pull over a few miles down the road. He couldn’t believe it and neither could I. I will see the Track Day after all…
