Barstow, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Memphis, Illinois! And on to Springfield… to round six of the AMA Pro Flat Track series to race the Cycle WorldHonda CRF450DT’R in the Memorial Day Springfield TT and Mile. Quite a mouthful and quite a drive—32 hours, give or take—but I’m never really by myself, the spirit of adventure keeping me company on a Memorial weekend I’ll never forget. That and the voices…Springfield, the legend, the lore: Ever since On Any Sunday, I’ve wanted to ride the place mentioned in the same breath with all those motorcycle racing icons. Way back in 2001, I spent the roadracing off-season riding Ken Maely’s Hot Shoe Manor with Tommy and Nicky Hayden, who told me all about Springfield and the TT, and how I had to go there someday. The Haydens went on to finish 1, 2, 3 in 2002 in the TT (Nicky at the front, Roger Lee bringing up the rear). Almost 10 years ago? Can it be?
All the local flat-track I’ve been doing, plus my recent swing at the Salinas Half-Mile, felt like the perfect pole-vault into this big daddy of Nationals. Arriving early that Saturday morning to join the van queue, waiting to unload contents: one canopy, one milk crate of tools, gear bag, one CW 2011 Honda 450. Just about the time everything was situated, rain, falling in buckets not drops, was ankle-deep almost immediately. The TT was postponed ’til Monday. I visited Lincoln’s Tomb (Pop Quiz: Who’s buried there?) and had a nice dinner with Peter Egan and pals, who all had driven down from Wisconsin.
On Sunday, the Mile surface wasn’t the pool table I’d heard stories of, and its variegrated surface conditions exaggerated my bike’s poor chassis setup: My freshly serviced shock was like a strut, even after taking out more than two turns of preload and a bunch of compression damping. Giving it all she had on the final lap of qualifying, the rear wheel skittered out exiting Turn 4 and I low-sided. Pole was set by Michael LaBelle at 37.620 seconds. I ended up with a 40.172, 37th out of 57 riders and thus no longer part of the proceedings; only 32 made it to the program.
Blue but not in a groovy way, I felt like loading the van and going straight home. But I stayed and watched some great racing; Mees, Halbert and Johnson filled the Twins podium. Zakk Palmer, Michael Martin and Jake Shoemaker in Pro Singles.
Monday at last, repeat the embarkation procedure into the TT track, then refit front brake and handguards; JD Beach recommended a change of gearing to a 14-tooth front and 50 tooth rear (I went with 49), and to re-torque the scrotum… The Mile was a blast, but the TT track is a hoot. It’s basically two lefts with a jump and a right thrown into the middle—less daunting, more flaunting, and they know their agriculture in Illinois; the surface is beautifully disc’d and irrigated every couple of sessions. After taking four turns of preload out of the shock, the Yoshimura-built motor was laying down its power all the way to the ground. My 25.697-second time was good enough for 11th, ahead of series points leader Mike Avila and behind the man who would be pole-sitter, Gerit Callies. “Fierce competitors” doesn’t begin to sum it up; in this game, a tenth of a second means a lot. At the same time, with an average lap speed of about 42 mph, how bad can it get?
From the front row of my heat race, I slotted into second and came around Lap 1 to see a red flag. I then HOLESHOT! the restart and led for a few laps, before William Cato blasted past me off the jump and some pit bull named Shane Narbonne began gnawing on my back tire, then passed me. In a frenzied last-lap attempt to regain second while braking hard for Turn 1, my front brake adjustment screw decided to wedge itself against the throttle housing, locking the brake on… Not optimal, but I think I can save it, front tucked, skidding along on my Maely steel shoe, yes, I’ve got this… just before Narbonne tagged my front wheel to help me to the ground. By the time I figured out what happened I was 13th and into the LCQ.
After repositioning the front brake master, me and 17 other riders made the mad dash for one of the four transfer spots; I passed five of them into the right hander (suckers!), one more between Turn 2 and 3 (take that!), before another red flag. With only four laps remaining, on the restart I tried to go around the outside of Adam Bushman, who ran me wide and let a few more riders up the inside. I took a few places back before getting locked into a battle with Wyatt Maguire—coming away in the end with a disappointing sixth—no transferrage to the main for me. Is that all there is? Mama, are the cookies done?
While I loaded the sad van, on the track Jake Johnson, Jared Mees and J.R. Schnabel Jr. went on to GNC Singles glory, while Michael Avila, Michael Martin and Hayden Gillim podiumed in Pro Singles. Meanwhile, I was headed home, with plenty of time between Springfield and the Pacific to mull over that instant when I felt the adjustment screw click over and lock my brake on. “Why, why?” I whined to God, “Why’d that have to happen to me, why couldn’t things go my way for once?” Then, over the high-pressure pulse echoing in my ears, the lyrics of a U2 song cleared my thought wreckage…“Grace finds goodness in everything.” And it dawned on me: I was still filled with the Spirit of Adventure and on my way back from racing at Springfield, motoring west on Route 66. From one home to another.
