VMX national – Port Elizabeth – Rover Motorcycle club, 10 April 2009
BACKGROUND:
Where shall I start – well, we all loaded our own bikes after the day’s racing which means there we no injuries. Incidents aplenty, but no major injuries. I think I should also immediately clear the slate and tell the readers that PE people lie. At some point we were told, Don’t worry boys, we will cut out the deep sand part of the track”…….. After this weekend, I am sure the Rover club all have 12” noses – like Pinnochio ! No sand – my butt !
If memory serves, the conversation went something like this…
So, what’s the area like.
It’s very nice, we have the sea nearby, excellent facilities and lots of shaded parking.
What’s the track like ?
Oh don’t worry, woooop, its really easy, woooop,
But I heard you guys had some deep sand there..?
Not really, wooooop, we will cut out all the deep sand for you guys wooooooooooooop
By now the Rover spokesman had a nose some 14” long !
Seriously, the sand is not that bad wooooooooooooooooooooooooppppppppp
Most anyone has been to the beach at some point. Loaded down with cooler boxes, beach balls, mom’s umbrella’s and your brothers towels – it’s a mission to keep a straight face under all this while Dad picks the best spot for the day. Eventually the best spot will be chosen, the accessories deposited, towels setup, suntan lotion applied and it’s time to have fun in the water. Our experience was similar in that we gathered a few beers and walked the Rover track on the Friday afternoon, discussed and contrasted the various possible lines through each and every corner. We earnestly debated the pro’s and con’s of hugging the apex, which side of the table top to use and so on. It seemed like a good idea at the time – hell, even the Junior’s were doing it. We headed back to the clubhouse to answer more stories about the old bonies on display and did some mini carbo-loading.
FRIDAY NIGHT BEFORE THE RACE
With a few worried faces around the camp fire, we compared our thoughts and came to the same conclusion. All of the GP boys had no clue of how to ride this surface. Think back to dad’s beach. Every step you take sinks you deeper and deeper, and despite one’s best attempts, it’s impossible to walk straight on beach sand. Having only brought 250’s I surveyed the pits, and found company in only 2 others of the same capacity. Great. Not only had I never ridden this surface, but I was seriously outgunned by 390’s; 420’s and a gaggle of 500’s. I grabbed another beer and consoled myself with the thought that the lighter weight would allow me to float on top of the soft sand. I almost believed myself.
Off to bed, and after a few nightmares we re-grouped at the track. We had been allocated some great paved Honda pits. More than a few visitors came to meet, greet and explore the history of the beasts. It feels so cool to see their eyes light up and these find another legend bike parked right next to them. The other uber-cool factor for me is the camaraderie between the guys. Picture Team Maico pitting right next to the James Gang – with spanners being shared by everyone. Make no mistake, the rivalry is intense on track, but its more important for us to delay the start of a race to give everyone a chance to get their bikes running and in place. Which brings me to the next point. Starting. These are old bikes – getting the bikes started is NOT a given. Thanks again to everyone that lent a hand pushing, kicking or changing plugs at a moments’ notice. You guys really do help us when we need it ?
Even with the whole Honda pits at our disposal, we still had bikes overflowing left, right and centre. It was a fest for the visitors – some of which came and setup deckchairs to watch the goings on.
The VMX organizers had decided to combine the classes into pre 80’s and post 80’s – simple and effective. There was a bunch of us that had 2 bikes – one for each class. I must say the reliability of these old machines us definitely increasing. After a rebuild, they need a number of shakedown runs to sort everything out. It’s certainly not a case of build and ride - but there are always exceptions to the rule too. We had a nw Maico 250 on the scene – kindly lent out by Robbi Wicks. Unfortunately Henry piloted it so well – Robbi wants it back. ? This Maico had only arrived at Henry’s garage at the beginning of the week, and with just some basic maintenance and the fabrication of a rear brake system – it was ready. It was damn quick too.
SATURDAY PRACTISE
Soon we were herded off to the starting grid – and this is where its gets interesting. Initially we only had some curious onlookers as we lined up in front of the gate. Our un-bribable MSA friend, (more about that later) had a quick chat and let us loose. A number of us had travelled all the way from Johannesburg, so were keen to get as much track time as possible. I grabbed a handful, and launched the RM over the little mud-pool which must have been the secret sign…??? Suddenly Gareth on the Husky 390 came past me flat track style into the first corner. Within a milli-second Sandy Wicks was alongside too and all thoughts of learning the track were gone. This turned into a slugfest instantly. Thank goodness practice was limited to 5 laps – as that only gave me opportunity to drop it 5 times in the thick sand. Fortunately the last time was on the corner after the big table top just where you turn off back to the pits.
Just a few minutes later, we were back out on the post 80’s bikes. Damn what a difference that makes ! The handling of the KTM single shocker was worlds apart in comparison to the RM. As long as you are racing period bikes it really doesn’t matter though. I went and sat in the pts, and pieced together a rough game plan for the race. Not sure why I bothered though..
There was a scurry of activity in the pits, cleaning lenses, inhaling energy bars, topping bikes up with fuel – and that was just the spectators. A pair of bouncy Red Bull girls waltzed in, “anybody want a chilled Red Bull “– the MSA anti-doping commission regulations never even came to mind. The pair took a quick look at the state we were in, and decided to beat a hasty exit, not wanting a bunch of heat stroke victims on their hands. After a few minutes, normality returned – this is VMX, yeah right ! Some hasty bike maintenance and soon enough we lined up for the first race.
1st RACES
The commentators called us to the staging area. We confidently pushed the steads down, and did a quick count to see who was missing. We lined up, watched the starter girl, waited for the 15sec board, heard the roar of the apocalypse and felt the clutches dragging. VMX bikes can sit on the line all day revving and waiting for the gate – NOT.
I could see a few feet back-peddling trying in vain to hold their bikes away from the gate. After an eternity, the gate dropped and we were off. Everyone funneled in quite easily, even though the soft sand did its best to put us off-line. It looked like the pecking order had been sorted out by corner 3, the cork-screw downhill into the 3 big whoopee things. As we exited the last whoop, and aimed up the hill I got a mouthful of sand from the Husky ahead of me. I passed the favour onto whoever was behind me. It’s a pleasure ?
Mayhem followed on the corner after that, the next one, and the rest of the lap. It’s difficult to describe exactly how much the surface shifted each lap. In contrast, later in the day, we could see the juniors had built a particular line going into one of the corners, braking mini-whoops and all. The track was so wide I was trying any possible line I could think of. Some worked, some were hideous. The variations in line and apex also made for some very interesting watching. Husky Humm and I had a HUGE battle in one of the races, and 4 guys came up to us afterwards to chat about the spectacle. You could not get the grins off our faces afterwards for love or money. In one of the wide sandy corners in front of the grandstands, Humm took the wide sweeping European line, while I tried the tight, point and squirt inside run . This placed us neck and neck on the step up jump. Who had the biggest balls ?
It’s impossible to single out any corner for overtaking. These bikes respond so well to rider input, you can pick any line you like. Another awesome one was just before the flag man. A wide hairpin with a low mound on the inside line and low berm round the outside. If Humm took the outside, I dove inside and vice versa.
Eventually the flag came out and they called time. I don’t even know where I finished – it was just so much fun.
BETWEEN RACES
There was the usual flurry of activity between the races again. Humm softened his rear end, Gareth tried to get the twin spark KTM started again – but it wasn’t interested. (My theory is that one coil is made of matter, and the other anti-matter, thus cancelling each other out – but that’s another story.) GavinW tried to get the CR 250 Red Rocket going, but she was sulking, pouting and decidedly unhappy. This spread to the CR480 – which started kicking back at Gavin each time he kicked too. GavinD decided to tighten the Husky fork caps, because they looked like they needed some attention and proceeded to strip them. He complained bitterly, but this was actually part of his James Bond like ploy to spray fork oil on anyone behind him. Sneaky, clever but sneaky. Others of us simply took a break to contemplate ?
2nd RACES
This was a repeat of the first, only the track was completely different, it was hotter, we were more tired and, oh yes, it was EVEN MORE FUN ! I think it was in this race that I met up with Bevan’s super-wide ass Can’t Am. We swapped and changed a few times, and on one of the downhills before the tight right hander under the trees I blew the corner completely, going into the bushes and trailing leaves with me as I returned to fight again. I heard Bevan laughing but it was short lived as I was able to pass him a little while later. I had to give him the obligatory finger, earning myself the nickname for the day of “the fastest finger in the west”. Needless to say I cocked up something, and Bevan got by again – only to return the finger. BY now the Marshalls were having a great time watching us swap positions every few corners. In fact, pics below show exactly how close the racing was…
Another epic battle was being waged between Henry’s rent-a-racer Maico and Gavin in the ice-cream Husky. It turned out that both were determined to wait for the other to get tired or make a mistake. Each time the one ahead took a different line, they would swap positions thinking they had it in the bag. Problem is, neither actually got tired for the 40 odd corners they were at it. Eventually the James Gang Husky made it though in time for the chequered flag ahead of the Maico.
Now it’s time to tell you a tale. A tale of cunning, daring and insanity. I was on the KTM 250, and made it past Crabman on his Honda. I thought I had the race in the bag, and started slacking off. Way too early. Suddenly Crabs was alongside and past. Next thing it was earth, earth, earth for me. The front-end had simply washed away. Luckily I kept the motor running, dragging clutch and all. Screw it. I had to get my position back. I almost blew the next 6 corners to get close to start watching. I then remembered the flagman had been waving at us with 1 finger and the 1 lap board. SHIT ! This was going to be tight. Gavin was trying to ride safe and stay just ahead.
Picture this:
We came up to tha main table top by the grandstand, and I held it open just a fraction longer than Crabs. I sailed up and instead of landing at the 50%-75% mark as always, I landed on the 95% mark. The rebound from the 1983 White Power shock launched me straight back up again. Crabman was non-plussed taking his usual out-in-out line. Meanwhile I landed at the bottom of the face of the tabletop, doing a 1 handed no footer for good effect. I was aiming for my in,out,out line which would have put me and Crabman in the same time|space co-ordinates. I wrenched the bars to the right to turn even tighter and ended up getting an earful from Gavin, and a soccer ball of sand on my front-end. Needless to say it tucked in and I was done – again. Crabman was released and free to the flag. I am sure Husky Humm came past me too while I dug the bike out. No matter – it was awesome racing – every second of it.
MARSHALLING:
And it’s at this point I have to talk about the track marshalls. After the 18th time I had dropped my bike in the beach sand, I was convinced the marshalls should be doing a better job. I was expecting them to pick me up, pick my bike up, dust off my goggles, and start it for me. Instead the stood there waving yellow flags and holding up the following sign:
I swear some of them were laughing too. I had my revenge though. On quite a few of the table-tops, I over-cooked the launch landing and everything in between. Apologies to the Marshall on the main table top – I wasn’t aiming for you, it just looked that way ?
As for our beloved MSA official. All I can say is that no matter how much I offered him, he refused to shorten any of our races to a single parade lap ! Bastard !
AFTER PARTY:
Maybe it’s just a VMX trait, but it seemed to take forever to pack up. Either we were that slow, or we had that much shit and spare to pack up. Either way, the entire forest section was deserted like a Woodstock concert after a police raid – just us and a pile of aching bones.
Beer never tasted that good. Tjop and dop never tasted that good either. We re-enacted with large hand movements all the passing maneuvers from the day. Prize giving was great fun with some very intricate prizes being handed out. After a dance and a spanking it was time for more beer and eventually we had to go home. I can quite easily see how a guys-only bikers racing road-trip could get completely out of hand. We behaved - this time.
IN CLOSING:
Most of you will have heard about the Rover club. It’s all true. They started in 1950, and it shows. The history and spirit is on the walls and in the members. We were made to feel very comfortable and welcome from the first instant we walked in. The resident and visiting photographers were awesome. They made us look good without Photoshop – how cool is that ! Look, they’re still a bunch of liars when it comes to the sandy track – but that’s another story ? Well done boys. The James Gang will be back with a vengeance.
