time they change this site, they make it a little easier for someone with ADD to use it. The rest of us are just SOL.

For the full blog with pictures, visit here: johnnykillmore.wordpress.com/2009/08/21/part-5-culmination-of-a-dream/

Sunday. Race day. The culmination of a dream. We were at the course as the sun rose. Parking near the bottom of the hill, we drove the last mile on the race bikes to  a pit spot in the forest they call pit lane.  I could feel the bite of the morning cold as we rode in, even at street speeds.

The pit lane felt like a family reunion. Though I only knew these people from a few conversations in a few days, it was reminiscent of a briefing for a convoy through enemy territory. We all knew that the person to our left and right were rolling the dice the same as we were, and that not all of us would make it to the top. Despite this knowledge, spirits were quite high as everyone knew the whole reason we were here was only hours from happening. I had met the Kennedy brothers only a few times as they fought their home built bike, yet I felt I knew them my whole life. I was so excited to see them do well, as for all the competitors.

After the riders meeting we set about fixing a sudden fuel leak from Dave’s machine. The gasket for the bottom plate decided now was the time to let fuel dump onto the engine and down the frame. We did what we could, but without a gasket and a half hour the hope was that the wind speed would push leaking fuel back from the exhaust header while at race speed.

The vintage cars were first, and the red flag was busy with one wreck. The details are unknown to me, but the driver apparently swerved to miss a fan who decided to cross the track, and flipped into a ditch. With these delays, our start was left a little later, and a lot more serious. We were to go on after the vintage cars, but “Monster” Tajima- the overall record holder- wanted to go before us  to miss potential bad weather. This is something any record holder can ask, and their entire class of cars must run with them.

The cars go 10min apart at the minimum, so we took our leathers back off and waited. The Europeans took off with much fanfare in their Ford Fiestas (fully rally prepped) with one driver crashing in the first minute or two of racing. We had been called up by then since we are the first of the motorcycles to go, so it was time to wait in the hot sun…. in full leathers.

You have to balance your own need to be treated properly as a dues paying racer with the promoter’s need to run an organized and entertaining show. This meant trying to snooze against the door of a display car while in leathers, with the sun beating down on you. The local hospital had a tent set up nearby and gave us water and encouragement. It was total hero status as fans saw us, the bikes, and made the connection. While I realize its a strange sport, I don’t ever stop to think of it as super-human or crazy at all. Fans thought different, and let us know. Sidecars- especially passengers- are among the craziest of all racers according to some fans. I was flattered, but was also in race mode. I was thinking of fuel levels and how stretched my muscles were. Trying to play cool, I leaned back and closed my eyes… ignoring the butterflies percolating in my stomach.

Then the call: “Sidecars!!! You’re up!!!” Ok… here we go. The mind races with possibilities of death and failure and disappointment. Then you remember you have a job to do and you know how to do it. You calm to a strange acceptance. It’s a race, and you know how to race. You concentrate on doing it right, because thinking about what could go wrong simply invites it into your day. We ride up to the start line and it’s quite a display.

The colors are dazzling because you haven’t seen the course lined with fans. They cheer encouragement, they tell you you’re crazy, and you look down the course, trying to remember the first few turns. We sat for several minutes waiting for the call to take the line. Finally, we lined up and prepared for the start. Now, with the engine vibrating it’s song and the flagman taking his stance, I’m comfortable. This is the whole reason I’m here, and I’m at peace. It goes silent and dead still. I hold my position, but our grabby clutch ruins our launch. We settle into 2nd place (of the 2 bikes leaving in our wave) and begin the run up the pavement. The speed is more than in practice, and fans simply pack the bottom section of the track.

The speed is higher because of the fans being closer to the roadside than the trees. I am making smooth transitions but they are difficult. I have to remember to breathe. This is a long course, and I’ve only run it in sections. We aren’t losing ground in 2nd and I’m confident. My driver Steve begins to ease off in the corners almost immediately. I’m sure he is feeling anxious since he crashed in a huge way the last time he raced here. Once we pass Engineer’s Corner I know he’ll loosen up, but that’s almost to the end of the first pavement section (where our tires give us an advantage.)

The gap increases until we are almost by ourselves. We pass Engineers Corner and I immediately feel the bike surge forward with new zeal. We are hammering through the corners with big slides. Cameramen poke out close enough to make contact with me while I hang out for right turns. I can hear fans screaming every time the throttle closes for braking. Then I realize it; I’m having fun. The breathing stops being conscious effort, my movements smooth out. I am at one with the machine and the only thing that exists in the entire universe is the connection I have with Steve, through the steel frame of the bike. As he manipulates the controls, I anticipate his needs and the needs of the three tires. We dive SO DEEP into turns on the brakes, scrambling for traction on the way out. I could do this forever.

Oddly, we begin to gain ground on the Wenzel brothers in the dirt. Their knobby tires aren’t finding better traction than our dirt track tires. We are in the groove until one slow switchback turn. Steve goes in too deep, and as we slide out we move out of the race line. Instead of the wheel spinning up in the loose dirt, we bog the motor. “Why doesn’t he downshift to 2nd gear?”, I think to myself. When I hear him upshift I realize he was in 2nd gear. The motor isn’t that weak… it should pull hard in this gear. I look back to see no engine smoke. I put it out of my head for a few turns until I feel the bike pulling weakly from another slow corner. Looking back, I see a thin trail of white smoke. Could it be??  Then my worst fear comes true. Pulling through a fast section in the dirt I hear the motor misfiring. “Oh shit!!!” I look down and begin to assess the engine. I grab the spark plug wires  to make sure they are tight. A right turn comes up, and I hang off, looking back to the engine. Smoke is rolling off of it and nothing appears wrong externally.

Maybe it’s an air filter that fell off?? No. Fuel line? No. The smoke is thicker and the engine weaker. Something is wrong but it doesn’t seem like we will lose power completely. If we limp it we can make the top. A left turn leads out to the beginning of the next pavement section. We are passed halfway, but will she make it???

I’m answered when Steve tries for 4th gear and the bike protests loudly. He kicks back to 3rd gear and I see him looking around. “Shit! He’s looking for a place to pull over! NO!!!” But the smoke trail is huge and damage is surely permanent. We stumble up the straight and through the right turn after it. Finding a place to pull off I feel the power roll back and we begin to coast.

He shuts the bike off and the discussion begins. We see the altitude compensator has broken loose and fallen inside the airbox. This part allows extra air into the carburetor to make up for the thinner air as we climb the mountain. But if this part broke loose it would allow a HUGE amount of air into the carb, leaning out one of the two pistons. A lean condition is very serious and is why cars all have complicated computers governing them; lean means good emissions, but too lean means engine damage.

Using carbs means no computer can solve the problem and this lean condition could overheat the pistons inside the engine, melting the steel until a hole breaks through a piston. This is a likely scenario, but we still let the engine cool a moment and try to restart. After only one or two kicks, fuel gushes onto the blazing hot engine!!! WHOAH!!! Investigating the leak showed the engine became so hot it melted the rubber gas lines coming from the fuel tank. We were going nowhere today, and my first race up Pikes Peak ended unceremoniously at the 13 mile marker.



We crossed the track after cheering Dave Hennessy on his run (leaving 30 seconds behind us in the second wave). The vintage bikes came by and I cheered leader Eddie Mulder, who was kind enough to donate $100 to my effort. He was relaxed enough to wave back as he screamed by on his highly modified Triumph race bike. The quads came through next and I am convinced they are having the most fun of any vehicle on the Peak. HUGE 4 wheel drifts or tricycle-ing was the order of the day as these guys used major body english to keep their machines on the edge of the performance envelope.

Knowing our day was done we crossed the track to sit in the shade of some trees and catch our breath. Some fans gave us water and I began to relax from my feeling of disappointment. I’m glad I taped a sweater to the bike’s frame though as changeable weather brought in rain, cold, wind, and then sun. The cycle continued the rest of our day as we watched the other classes race through.



This gave me a good perspective of the different classes. I enjoyed the rear wheel drive cars coming through on the wet pavement. These heavily modified road cars remind you why NASCAR is such a joke; you need turns and changeable conditions to make a good race, not meticulous math. I watched huge slides, laughably slow people tip-toe through, and the trophy trucks drift through with about 500 feet more suspension travel then they needed, but still at full throttle. The race ended and we began a long coast down the hill, hoping we wouldn’t have to push too much on the few uphill spots.



The coast down was bittersweet. I had not seen the summit. I failed. I didn’t make it. On the other hand, these fans had sat through boring pauses in the action and miserable weather to see these racers make their charge to the summit. They were greeting us like returning war heroes. that’s not hype people. I came home from Iraq and saw the flags and got the thank you’s. These fans were at least as excited to see us as the townspeople when I rode the bus from the airport to the base after coming home. I shook hands, gave high-fives, and got help pushing up every hill we encountered.

I absolutely will never forget the little boy who stood trackside with his hand out for a high five. We were on almost level  ground, so we were rolling at a snail’s pace. He stood there wide-eyed, prob-ly only 6 or 7 years old.  In this slow motion move I actually got to see his wide-eyed look of awe, as if we had just returned from the moon. This gave his little brothers time to run up and I reached WAY OUT to touch their hands. These two kids prob-ly weren’t more than 6 years old and they absolutely beamed with unhindered joy at seeing us coast down that hill after powering up it in anger. I remembered my neighbor and his vintage Harley flat-tracker. I remembered watching Mick Doohan slide the NSR. I remembered the first time I watched a GSX-R wheelie down the street by my school as a kid. I knew these kids were watching with the same awe I had as a boy... but they were there and touched the hand of the riders as they came down, mine included. I hope one of them takes the grid one day in the future

The last bit was a struggle. I pushed that bike as far as I could and was at complete physical collapse when we got to the pits. I struggled to catch my breath as more fans came up to talk. I tried to be nice, passed out stickers, and dreamed about going to sleep. It was a helluva day.

Beers were cracked and stories were told. Some men had reset records, some people had simply finished for the first time ever. Still others had been flown away in helicopters after leaving the course and striking trees. This is real human drama, and hugs and handshakes flowed freely. Would I do it again? Yes. Right now.

Passenger-ing on a sidecar is a fantastic way to meet Pikes  Peak. I would do it again any time. When the course becomes fully paved, I will be ready to take my Windle F2 sidecar up there as driver and battle the mountain again. Until then, I will be searching for an open chair. This race is storied in history and deserves great respect. I dont see it as an assault on a mountain, but as an accepted challenge between a road and a group of determined individuals. No one makes it to the summit without permission from the mountain. Dave and Jim won the sidecar race, but conceded their victory to the Wenzel brothers due to the engine displacement difference. This stops an arms race in the sidecar division since the break between classes is 2 cylinder bikes 750cc’s and under, and an unlimited class. The organizers had grouped sidecars into one class, but Dave made sure the distinction was made between his bike and the others. The Kennedy brothers had made it to the top on their home-built machine, feeling as though they had won by simply finishing. After the mechanical issues they had, they had reason to celebrate.

And there you have it. I was given an opportunity out of the blue. Someone punched "Pikes Peak Sidecar Passenger" into a search engine, and on the other end was a post of mine made at www.advrider.com where I mentioned how bad I wanted to race Pikes Peak. Without the money to continue my road racing season (and honor my commitments to my sponsors) if I chased a dream, I found out the generosity of people by asking for help. Allowing other people to contribute to my life is a new thing. I've always been huge on making my own things happen, but also still have some of my youthful need to do everything the hard way. It was great to get up the verve to ask for help, and even more so to receive that help. Thanks to everyone that donated in any way, even if it was just encouragement. Lastly, a HUGE thanks to Dave Hennessy and Hennessy Sport Cycles for giving me this opportunity. They were real salt of the earth types, every one of them. I don't think I bought more than two of my own meals the entire time I was there. What a great group, and I hope to see them returning to the Peak in 2010. Both of our teams had a hard time with the breakdown and the  handling issues. However, I feel it's the adversity that makes it such a big feather in the cap of any racer, no matter how many wheels they choose to race on.

Cheers,

Johnny

The section from Devil's Playground to the summit is all dirt, and has some fairly fast sections as well. It was quite cold in the morning but after we took to the course it was soon forgotten. This part of the course was easy to get confused. There are some first gear switchbacks and a 3rd gear sweeper that look similar on the entrance. I made the mistake a few times, but my driver Steve Hennessy didnt. Good thing he had the brakes. The sweeping left is one of the most fun corners on the course, with a serious drop off to the outside and a semi-blind entrance as the radius changes mid corner.

Things were still loose as there just weren't enough cars this year to lay down a blue groove of rubber on the hard packed earth. The 3rd session had of break down almost immediately on the start. The wire for the ignition kill switch broke loose and we lost all power while still running through the gears heading to the first corner. We had it back together but missed that run. Soon after I noticed a loud squeeking sound as we drove up to the start line. When we rolled the bike back the front wheel locked up.  Kicking some rocks loose from the brake pads looked to solve the problem, until I noticed one of the bolts holding the brake disc on had backed out, and was rubbing against the mount for the caliper.

We went back to the truck and were able to find replacements, which we installed with Loc-tite to make sure the problem was solved. Missing two sessions was ok though since the organizers ran the day smoothly. We got several runs and the summit was even more breath taking than the previous days of practice. I was really feeling the bike now and had come into my own in the dirt.  Steve and I moved as one while exiting tight turns, and I was able to relax my arms in right turns and still keep my balance. I was even styling it up a bit, doing the one-handed cool guy hang off. I was in a dream. What a cool way to race Pikes Peak! I would love to see it from the drivers seat, and I would love to race a quad or vintage car or bike, but driving the chair on an MX hack was definitely the right way to start out.



Dave and Jim were happier with the sidecar after removing one of the 50lbs weights, although the underslung weight had caught the ground in the bumpy parts of the course. The worst part was not knowing how things would work on the pavement. The TL1000 needed to be sharp on the asphalt to make use of it's more powerful engine, but we wouldn't know how the modifications would work until race day. We cleaned the bikes up, added some grooves to the TL's rear tire, and gave each machine the once over for race day. Saturday would be a chance to sleep in and I was looking forward to it. The 3am wake up call is crazy; I didn't even have to do that in boot camp. Come Sunday morning, I would be in for a surprise. I knew the event was big and there would be fans, but I simply wasn't ready for the amount of people and the money invested in the fast cars. This was big time racing...

Coming up: RACE DAY.

-Johnny K-

Thursday saw us handling the asphalt section in the top 3/4 of the course. This felt much more natural after the previous day's practice. The sun had not risen yet as we began our riders meeting in the half light. This was an interesting group. Semi pros, vintage heroes, off road guys, quad guys, and Joe Average all milling about waiting to hear the word. There were people from several countries as well as 3 women competing.
We lined up and had a go in our first session, which I don't particularly remember. This section of the course has a few fast spots, but the memorable section is definitely the W's. Watching cars sling around these turns as a kid is what I remember most about the course. Now they are paved and guard rails line some spots. There is a long section though that puts you in top gear. You are approaching a 180 degree left that kinks right before you enter it. The bike drifts out to the right edge, which has no berm or guard rail. To tuck in on this straight section I would put the top of my head into the wind and sit on the chair wheel's fender. I turned my head to the right so I could still breath, but you are looking off into space. It reminds me of flying helicopters in the army. The worst part is the bike drifts to the right edge while the driver prepares to enter the a slight left jog, then hard on the brakes while turning right, and down to first gear. we got the chair so close to the edge that by session 3 I had to lift my head up and look straight down the track... it bothered me too much.
The W's continue up like this, making a terrace of tight lefts and rights that require an extreme forward lean due to the steep incline. The real reward was the descent though; driving back down for the next session allows you to see the panorama and the still rising sun. These were among the most breath taking views I had seen in my life, and I was disappointed that the camera picked up so much of the morning haze.



We seemed to have decent speed in this section and it was obvious Steve and I were getting a feel for each other's riding styles. Dave Hennessy and passenger Jim Viettiwere encountering problems however. The machine, a street bike, was having serious braking and turning issues. The stock front end made steering very high effort and the chair would not stay down in lefts (left side chair). This was really disappointing for them, and we left the mountain deep in though on how to correct the issue.



We hatched a plan to add weight to the sidecar, and several calls yielded us a pair of 50lbs bar bell weights. A few big bolts and hours later we had one under the chair and one mounted to the inside fender of the hack wheel. There was dirt only in the final day of practice tomorrow, so we were only going to get a rough idea of how much- or how little- we had improved their machine....

-Johnny K-

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The course awaits..."][/caption]

    Arriving at the campground Tuesday morning I got a chance to meet Dave and Steve Hennessy, who I had only talked to on the phone until now.  Both motocross hack racers, they seemed to approach the coming race with a casual manner. Dave had grafted an EML left-side chair to a Suzuki TL1000S, with a shoe-string budget and a lot of late nights in the garage. I would be riding with brother Steve on a late 70's Wasp MX hack with a Yamaha XS650 engine punched out another 100cc's.





    My first taste of the race would be at tech inspection, where very serious race machinery was being rolled in and out. The myriad forms were filled out and I got my registration packet, so I helped push the machine through tech. Being a road racer myself, it was strange how easy tech was: no safety wired hose clamps (or even drain plugs), no taped up wheel weights... just a check that the controls were sturdy and the overall machine looked "right". I wasn't about to complain.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="614" caption="Getting our tech sticker"][/caption]


    We then shot over to our sponsor's place, Bristol Brewery. These were some really stand up folks and we got a tour of the facility, ending with a cold pint and some free swag. It was really fun to check out the operation since I'm a fan of craft brewed beers.


   


    After our meet n greet was over we sat through a rather long and drawn out riders meeting in one of the Crowne Plaza Hotel's conference rooms. I was doing everything I could to stay awake after two fitful nights of sleeping in a sub-compact car, and I pulled it off for the most part. I was also able to mett Eddie Mulder, who made good on his promise of a $100 donation to getting my but back to California after this was all over. With the unexpected problems with the car, this money was much needed. In fact, I remember breaking that $100 bill in a town on the AZ/NV border, and using it to buy dinner and my last 2 tanks of gas.


    The Pikes Peak Highway is still a public road, and in order to keep it open during practice, racers are there before sunrise, and gone by 830am. Our first practice would encompass the bottom half of the race course; fast pavement leading to tight pavement, then through a long dirt section and on to the brake inspection straight where the asphalt picks up again.

This is my first time on an MX hack and I know the speeds will be slower than a road racer, but the transition will involve more steps to get from side to side.
    I was trying to be early on my transitions but kept stumbling to get out for right turns. Having suspension in the chair wheel is new to me and I was having a hard time smoothing things out. The  hay bales were far too close for comfort on right turns and I nearly clipped them with my hip in several spots. When we rounded engineer's corner and I saw the dirt I was partly glad that the speeds would be lower, and partly terrified since I had no idea how much traction we'd have.
There was no blue groove of rubber laid onto the dirt like is often seen in race photos and videos. It's extremely hard pack earth with loose gravel strwen everywhere. With a blue groove, you have almost as much traction as asphalt, without one, it's like racing on steel ball bearings.
    I was surprised how deep we would go into corners before getting on the brakes. It also surprised me how little traction we could get driving out of slow bends. I learned fairly quickly that you had to hand off the chair through the apex, then- while still hangin out of the chair- get you left leg in near the rear wheel. This way, you could lean out to hold the chair, but plant weight to give rear wheel traction.

The remaining runs of the day just kept getting smoother, and I could tell Steves' confidence was building as well. His last race saw him slam into the culvert at engineer's corner during the race. This was the first time he'd run the course- or the bike- since. 
    Our final run of the day was qualifying, and Dave managed to send the TL over the edge. The machine had been horrible in left handers and the stock front end must have made it quite a handful. I was looking down the track and saw them go into a weave on the brakes. The chair popped up once, then twice, then it was airborne. Just before the bike left the road, passenger Jim Vietti decided there was little left he could do and came off the back. The bike was only in thei air for a moment, but from my angle it just disappeared over the edge. We slowed as we came up and looked over. About 20 ft down Dave was already up and trying to figure out how to get the bike onto the road. We finished the session and qualified 2nd since only two of the four sidecars made it to the finish. The Kennedy brothers from Michigan sprung a major  oil leak on their home build hack.


    No one was hurt so I was more than happy to call this day a success. I left the mountain feeling accomplished. I had actually made it. I was on the mountain I had seen on TV for so many years as a child. And I didn't suck at it. We hung out at the team Doctors place that night and enjoyed good food, good hospitality, and watched angry storms pass accross Pikes Peak as it sat in it's majesty above us. At 315am, we would be at it again.

-Johnny K-

johnnykillmore.wordpress.com/2009/07/29/pikes-peak-part-1-getting-there-is-half-the-fun/


Head to the link above for the first installment of my epic trip to race the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb. Getting there was NOT half the fun... not even 1/16 of it.

-Johnny

For a map of Portland Raceway click here. The track runs clockwise and the "Festival Chicane" (turns 1,2, and 3) are not used. This means you need to subtract 3 from each corner number to reference the corner I am describing

INTRODUCTION

Portland International Raceway featured some of the smoothest pavement I've ever run on, and stereotypical northwest weather. After a day on the road I settled in at the track and met a fellow named Chris Rizzo. He was an former Ducati racer and was interested in a passenger slot. Without my regular passenger Vanessa McClure, I had just the seat for him. Our first practice on Saturday was cloudy with drops of water scattering on my faceshield. I like to practice at a higher speed than most and quickly got to the front of the field. With all the fast crowd following me, I made my way into turn 4, a 1st gear hairpin with a very wide entrance and a tight exit. A little too much rear brake and I found myself in almost a 90 degree skid. Whoops!

Well it was easy enough to recover from at those slow speeds and I carried on. My newfound passenger Chris was a little slow on the transitions, but I hardly gave him any warm up time. He asked all the right questions and seemed to get a really good idea for how things should work. Our second session can during a drizzle, and the slower speeds enabled Chris to work more on his form and process the information, instead of just trying to hang on. Unfortunately after about 2 laps I ran out of fuel. DOH! We got a push in from the crash truck and topped off the tank, already thinking about our upcoming race.

RACE 1: SATURDAY

We were gridded off of points so I sat in the 2nd row. I can't remember much about the start except for getting into 3rd place and having the leaders slowly pull away on the straights. After 2 laps I saw Team Bad Cat's machine way to close for comfort behind me and put my head down, charging hard. After two more laps of the 7 lap race I was waved the black flag. This normally means your machine has a loose part or is leaking fluid, but Portland has a sound issue. With the track being in a city park the neighbors have a bit of clout. My machine was definitely loud, but I was stunned to have not gotten the black flag during practice.

Nevertheless I pulled into the pits to confirm my suspicions. The flag marshal told me I was way too loud. I pleaded to go back out and just short shift the engine for the last lap. The difference between being last and being disqualified was huge. To my surprise he agreed. Out I went as the spots of rain turned into a drizzle. I was practically coasting, looking over my shoulder constantly. No one was behind me. No one in front. No one had passed me during my time in the pits. Where was everyone? I crawled to the checkers and ended up in 4th place; the same position I was in when I entered the pits.

After coming in and talking with fellow racers I found out that Bad Cat had a serious engine failure, which turned out to be a broken cam chain. This bent most the valves, rendering the engine unrepairable while trackside. Bill Becker managed to find an engine- in Portland- for a SCREAMING price. I was a little pissed to hear the engine was going for about half what it normally would. This is the same engine I covet so badly for my own machine, and am left with my anemic 750cc engine.

Nevertheless I conjured up the club racer spirit and helped haul the new engine into the Bad Cat machine. Slipping on a tarp doused with oil and water made if hard. Not having the engine line up quite right made it a mission. By 1am in was installed however, and I was exhausted. It blew the time I had to catch up with my friend Heidi who lives in Portland and had come to the track to see me. But no one asked for a blown motor, and I would have wanted the help if it was me.

RACE 2: SUNDAY

My passenger Chris had really come along during the Saturday race. We did one more practice session and noticed just one problem. Bad Cat's new engine was obviously more powerful than the one they pulled out last night.

Portland Raceway has a front straight that's not quite a mile long, but the track is only 1.9 miles in total length. Bad Cat's new engine, combined with my old one, meant I was in an impossible situation. Nevertheless I got a good start and began ringing the neck of that 750cc engine. It made little difference, and I was in 6th place of the 8 bikes on the grid when we entered turn 1. I set in behind Bad Cat and began to look for an opening. Turn 2 showed an opening and I dove in and took off. I used that bike for everything it was worth and then some.

To avoid the dreaded black flag due to noise I had to exit the final turn with a tight line, short-shifting the engine and avoiding the sound meter. This utterly killed my drive onto the long front straight. Sure enough, Bad Cat's 2002 Becker F1 machine blew by me with enough speed to suck the paint off my fairings. I made it up on the brakes into turn 1, but didn't have room to pass until the turn 4 hairpin. I went in there with the bike almost out of control, but made the turn. I drove hard out and managed to hang on to 5th place until the front straight. This time when Bad Cat went by they were carrying more than 15mph. The drove off into the distance with alarming speed. "What the hell am I supposed to do about this?", I thought to myself.

Screaming into turn 1 I reeled in almost 20 bike lengths. This turn is fast and narrow with a tire wall only a few hundred feet through wet grass separating it from the pavement. The rear was sliding and I closed to within about 5 lengths. I could see Bad Cat's driver- Mike Jones- struggling to get the power down. The machine squirmed and slid as we went into turn 3. I sat just out of striking distance as we went through the turn 4 hairpin. With rain drops beginning to pelt my faceshield I followed them down the back straight. This isn't actually straight; it curves to the right with a wall right against the edge of the inside radius. I began to fall behind but knew I could close on the brakes. I left myself about 3 bike lengths as we went through the left-right kink. This let me set up a line that had me inside and at full throttle. I braked hard for the final right onto the back straight. Taking back 5th spot I rolled out at full throttle and hoped I had slowed Mike's drive enough to stay close. Not a chance.

By the end of the front straight they were a small blotch with two helmets poking out the top. I held my breath a little and blitzed through turn 1 faster than last lap, despite the increasing amount of precipitation. I rocketed through turn 2 and almost lost control of the front wheel, but set myself up right behind them in turn 3. This is a flat left-hander that widens on the exit and promptly dumps you into the turn 4 hairpin.

ABOUT TO CRASH

By carrying a wide line I have more speed on the exit. This also means I'm sitting on the inside of turn 4, requiring me to slow more to make it. As Mike set up on the outside of turn 4 I dove in on the brakes. The rear brakes had already over-heated at this point and I relied heavily on the front brake; so much so that I lifted the rear wheel off the ground. This caused me to accidentally shift into neutral.  Now I'm floating up on two wheels, scrambling to find a gear, and attempting to round the hairpin. I actually puled it off in a very sloppy matter. It was more like a motocross "check pass" where I practically park the bike in the middle of Mike's way, and attempt to accelerate away before he can come around me. As I let off the brake and turned the machine to the right, the side-load caused the rear tire to loft back into the air. The machine is capable, if ridden carelessly, of pivoting over the front- left and flipping. I had never dealt with this condition and simply plopped the machine back down on all 3 wheels.The motor was in the wrong gear and I pinned the throttle in hopes of chasing after Bad Cat as they went around.

THE CRASH

At this point my sloppy entry turned into a huge mistake. I thought the machine would be able to find grip as the chair wheel rolled up onto the painted rumble-strip at track's edge. Unfortunately it was wet and I was wrong. I slid off into the grass and immediately started to go sideways.

I kept on the throttle trying to stop it from digging in and spinning back the other way. We continued to slide until we came back onto the pavement almost 90 degrees from straight. As the machine got traction it literally spit us up into the air, pirouetting about 180 degrees in the other direction and depositing us on the grass on the other side of the track. At this point I had little control and held the throttle open in hopes of not digging in. This time we were sliding right-side-first; with all weight on the right of the machine. If was only a few yards before the rear wheel dug in and we flipped over.

I looked at the machine coming up over me and thought about how much it weighed. I thought about my passenger Chris, who had met me only a day prior and was looking to have some weekend fun on a sidecar. I thought about the amount of time I had put into prepping the bike and making it look presentable. Like a true racer, I thought about my points lead fading away.

IMPACT

WHAM! It was quiet and soft and there was a huge pressure on me as the chest piece landed on my head. I still had the bars in my hands and pushed hard away as it bounced back off me, almost weightless in the air. We had lost most our speed and the bike slid upside-down for only a few yards. Laying next to it I looked over and saw Chris pinned underneath, unmoving. In a panic I jumped up and took a moment to debate moving the bike. I could worsen a spinal injury or save him from burning on a hot brake rotor. Without any immediate hand signal I decided to flip the rig off him. He rolled up onto his feet and turned to face me. I could see through his helmet; his eyes were smiling. "Are you ok?" I ask. His reply was along the lines of, 'Yeah. Holy shit that was awesome!" I couldn't believe the guy. Of course, as a racer myself, I immediately looked at the bike to decide about remounting and chasing after Bad Cat. I noticed some leaking fuel and thought about accidentally dumping fluids on a wet racetrack. Then I remembered other organization's rules about not re-entering a race after a crash. Then I saw the exhaust bent up and over itself.

We watched the rest of the race from the tire wall and what a show it was. Native "Redneck Racing" was in a huge fight with points leader Wade Boyd of Team Subculture.  Bill Becker sat in 3rd with passenger Tamara Teller, returning after a long hiatus from racing. They looked impeccably fast and they all made a helluva show, with Bill Becker making a BIG MOVE on the brakes into turn 4. The other two machines scrambled after him but eventually settled into Becker, Redneck, and Subculture in that order on the podium. The points spread still has Subculture in the lead, with Becker Moto Works closing the gap as we head into our next race in July, back at Portland Raceway.

The wreck left me with really bruised forearms and a sore neck. I haven't yet gotten a damage report from Chris, but I'm sure he must be sore. The bike has quite a bit of body damage, though most of it is minor; there's just a lot of it. The biggest problem is the bent exhaust. Sidecars have a hand built exhaust due to their unique shape in comparison to the motorcycles that donate their engines. Chris Rizzo volunteered to try and fix it; a terrific gesture considering a I rolled my machine over him only an hour before. He also made a unique baffle to try and help us with the black flag situation that almost ruined our  Saturday race.

I will be heading up there the weekend after I race Pike's Peak to repair my sidecar (left up there with friends) and attempt to defend my narrowing points lead. I'm determined to hold 3rd in points in this- my first full year as driver. Bat Cat has a wicked camera mount that caught a lot of the race and some of my wreck. Look for it posted up here in the coming days and at The Bad Blog.

Check back here for updates as I prepare for Pikes Peak and ' forget to DONATE to the cause; I'm still about $300 short on funds.

Lots of action is coming up so check back often!

Thanks,

Johnny K-

The Pikes Peak hillclimb is the 2nd oldest race in America. The Indy 500 is the only one that's been around longer. The 87th running is this July 19. I have been given an opportunity to race as passenger on a fast sidecar. This is a motocross sidecar and very different than what I've done in the past. Pikes Peak is part dirt, part asphalt, and there will be a lot happening in the climb to the clouds. There is one problem before I even get there... money.
    I have the money to register and I can get out there, but to make it back I'm not sure what to do. I've gone through the closets and will try to get some cash via ebay, but I am asking anyone that reads this to consider the following.
     There are two races that I have considered dreams. Races so awesome in their mystique and magnitude the mere uttering of their name will make people stop and reflect on what it is to be challenged by something. One of these events is the Isle of Man TT races. The other is the Pikes Peak International Hillclimb.  To make these events and finish is to call my life well worth the oxygen I consumed to sustain it. I'm putting together everything I can to make this race. In fact, I will make it. I just don't know if I'll be able to get back. I currently am only $600 short of my target amount. I ask those that find themselves with a little money to give.... to give. This is a chance for me to live a dream, and I'm asking you to help me live it. If you can give $100, $50, or even just $10 it will still be pushing me closer to managing to pull this off. I will be selling everything not bolted to the floor as well, so check back here to see if there's something you'd like to buy as well. I will post future blogs as I get a list of items.
     You can donate gas cards or similar items by sending them to my address, listed below. You can send checks payable to John-Thomas Wood as well. I've set up a Paypal account to the address johnnykillmore@gmail.com to make contributions as easy as possible. Your donation could be the difference between not eating and eating. It could mean having gas to make it back or sitting in Arizona somewhere pan-handling.
    Any help is appreciated. If you know a group heading to the races from southern California that would be interested in letting me hitch a ride, it would be as good as sending gas money. I'm also looking at picking up a road racing sidecar for a friend who might then contribute gas money, further easing the burden (though also increasing the gas cost by towing a trailer). I'm working every angle I can to put this together, so I ask you to do the same. Everyone has a little they can spare when they truly want to give. I'm asking you to spare what you can.
     Obviously tons of photos and stories will follow the races, so I suggest subscribing to this blog so you can watch as things progress.

In Liberty,
Johnny K-

John Wood
PO box 671
Adelanto, Ca 92301

Paypal:
johnnykillmore@gmail.com
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