This Article was printed in
Sweetwater, Tennessee's
Advocate Democrat 11/14/2004
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“Stay in
the throttle |
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‘til you see Elvis” |
Ahrma. Kershaw, S.C.
Wham! Just what I didn’t need, another crash.
In the blink of an eye, a damaged bike, cracked ribs, torn leathers,
and yet another brand new helmet saved my bacon once again. Bleeding
and struggling to stand, I have to raise my arms above my head so
the officials don’t send the ambulance. Limping to the racer I find
I don’t have what it takes to lift it off the ground. Patched up by
the medics in the pits, I wondered how my next phone call to my wife
was going to go. Probably like all the rest when I’ve managed to
bend some equipment. Yeah honey, in the fourth lap I was leading
second place by a half a lap. By the sixth lap I was in fourth place
fighting for third when ahhh, I sort of went down in a turn. What?
Oh yeah I’m great, just slid off the track a little. Went down
always sounds better to your Mom or loved one rather than talking to
your buddies and saying what really happened; Holy Mackerel! You
wouldn’t believe it; I had the field covered by half a lap! The bike
started slowing down by the end of the fifth lap. It turns out I had
chosen a racing fuel with too high of an octane rating for the 12:1
compression motor I had built. Trying to make up for going slower
and seeing the rest of the pack closing on me I had to go deeper
into the turns before hitting the brakes. The front tire washed out
and then it’s the old earth sky earth sky dance. When I first got
into road racing motorcycles I asked a seasoned veteran of the
Ed Bargy Road Racing School, how do you gauge when its time to brake
for a turn? His reply was something I’ll never forget. Standing
there in his weathered, scuffed leathers he was obviously no
stranger to impromptu exits from racetracks himself. He calmly said;
Stay in the throttle ‘til you see Elvis”. Hmmm, words to live by.
Diving into turns way too late on archaic drum brakes, (we aren’t
allowed modern disk brakes, this is vintage motorcycle racing ya
know) the heat was getting to them and they were fading quicker than
a $20 bill on a Saturday night. My 215lbs weren’t helping matters
either. Life gives you warning signs if you just heed them. It’s
like when girls roll their eyes and say; “go away”. This statement
usually means find someone else to share your moon pie and the
adventures of Piggly Wiggly in the third grade weekly reader with.
Looking back on the race, if you’re sliding into turns. Your eyes
are as big as pie plates. The rear wheel is trying to pass the
front, and the only real reason your still on the bike at all is the fact
your pulling a nine out of a possible ten on the pucker machine, maybe
just maybe something is saying this is gonna leave a mark. On the
other hand I can remember reading what Bart Markel a very famous
motorcycle dirt track racer once said; “If you don’t fall down once
in a while, you’re not going fast enough”. To the chagrin of my
wife, I have always subscribed to that way of thinking. As I write
this, my ribs have somewhat healed the bruises have gone away and
thoughts turn to the big daddy of them all, Daytona Bike Week in
March 2005. Racers come from all parts of the globe for a chance to
compete with the American Historic Racing Motorcycle Association, or
www.ahrma.org.
I have gone to Daytona bike week since the age of fourteen, some
thirty nine years ago. Maybe this coming year will be my debut. I
hope so, there’s only a little over four months to prepare for it.
Stay tuned, I hope to send the Advocate Democrat some good news from
the track. Just making the race would be great. Cheers, Bobby
Mckahan
