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Virgins and Squids. 4/12/2004

The above does not concern sexual activity of any kind.

For those of my readers, (yes, all three of you), who were perhaps wondering why there has been nothing substantial written in the past few days, I have to plead lack of time. A weak excuse, but it happens to be the only one I have. Must remember to renew my subscription to Dial-an-Excuse.

I spent the Friday and the weekend getting prepared for a track day at the circuit. No big deal on normal occassions when it just involves me, but this time I was requested by some new bikers to bring them to the track for an introductory session. Track Virgins! Heh heh heh, just what the doctor ordered for some good natured ribbing on a Sunday morning. So some time was spent getting bikes prepared and sourcing the right protective gear and so on.

We got to the circuit a little late, after a breakfast of overpriced tasteless food. After getting set up and geared up, I took the first batch of virgins out on the track. They did fairly well, considering. I wasn’t pushing it, because the track was crowded with really fast riders getting some practise in before the first race of the season in 2 weeks time. I guess the virgins were a little intimidated by the pace of the fast guys, and it didn’t help that I occassionally disappeared down the track chasing some of my friends at race pace, leaving them behind. On standard tyres. On a borrowed bike from one of the virgins. Some of them were a little freaked by what a stock standard motorcycle was capable of. Especially with regard to lean angles.

One of the virgins asked me to take his Kawasaki 600 out on the track to take the tyre wear right to the edge, so that he could go back and brag about it his friends. I didn’t mind, considering what I did to the bike in the entrance to Turn 7. I lifted the back wheel under braking hard enough to give me nose bleed.

In the last session of the day, the main protaganist virgin, who rides a Yamaha R1, asked to follow me around the track. I obliged, riding a Honda 600 with fucked tyres and pillow soft suspension. He followed me around for 2 laps, and then over took me on the front straight, probably due to boredom at following a bike with a third less horsepower than his. He went past heading into turn 1, and I tucked in behind him. I was concious at this point, of a pack of 6 of my friends, who are really quick riders, catching up with us. He took a very slow line in 1, and then screwed the entry into turn 2, which meant that he was completely set up wrong for turn 3. So even though he had the faster more powerful bike, I had no problems keeping pace with him on a smaller, slower machine.

We were coming into 4, which is a 90 degree right hander. By this time, the virgin was extremely concious of the fact that there was a ‘train’ behind him of very fast bikes. And he was going to get steamrollered. I was right behind him when I saw him ride past the standard peel off point and entry in turn 4, and thought to myself that he was leaving it a little late. He promptly overshot the entry point. And then tried to get the bike back into the racing line by turning it hard over. And then he made the cardinal mistake of cracking open the throttle of a 140hp motorcycle. When leaned over and and the tyre was still scrabbling for grip.

I saw the back end step away, and the bike go down in a shower of sparks. He went tumbling after. I slowed up, as did the rest of the pack behind me, to pick our way past the debris. I saw him stand up and placed my bike between him and his fallen bike, and motioned him to get back to edge of the track.

The session was promptly red flagged, and when I entered the pits I was giggling. The young lad with his high powered motorcycle was very into being ‘the fastest’, and did it with some attitude. It was with some relish I told the other virgins what had happened. The aftermath of the incident was fairly light, scruffed fairings and a dented exhaust, with bruising to the body and pride. He learned some valuable lessons on Sunday, one of which is that quick, fast motorcycle riding does not necessarily require the fastest bike or the best equipment.

And speaking of equipment, yesterday being Easter Sunday, there was a large contingent of riders from the island city state south of us. About 30 or so bikes, most of whom came up with female pillion passengers. Which didn’t really phase us. But what we noticed was that without exception, all the pillions were dressed in street clothes, with no protective gear what so ever. Riding squidly we call it. And some of the southern riders were no better. We saw squid, with his girlfriend, going down the highway, riding his bike wearing shorts and open toed sandals. I shudder to think of what would happen if they fell. Skin grafts are fucking painful you twit! Get some proper gear if you love your life and your girlfriend.

Whenever I ride, on the track or the road, I always use proper protective gear, no matter what the weather.

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