Aprilia at Patterson Pass
Aprilia at Highway 9
Good fun!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Send Off
And to cap off the closing of the Aprilia chapter, let's revisit the few of many adventures I had with the bike:
Aprilia at Altamont Pass
Aprilia at Patterson Pass
Aprilia at Highway 9
Good fun!
Aprilia at Patterson Pass
Aprilia at Highway 9
Good fun!
Dreams Can Only Last for so Long
Seeing as my Aprilia will more than likely be totaled by insurance...
It was really good while it lasted. REALLY GOOD. I know it's absolutely ridiculous to go ga-ga for what's essentially an internal combustion engine with two wheels, but my Aprilia really was a dream. I swear to god, before I even saw the bike in person or even rode it, I immediately fell in love with it (thank Torque). How lucky was I when I finally got my hands on one, then find out that it rode every bit like the dream that I dreamt of?
Either the bike fell on my lap,
or I on it.
Then the suit, and then the track fairings, all used and bought from private parties, yet they all managed to fit perfectly, like it was meant to be. How the heck would I top that?
Truthfully, there's just no way. Without even counting every kismet-like story behind everything involving the Aprilia, there was just no way I was going to find another RSV Mille that was as pristine (the bike defined the word when I got it, I swear) and at a ridiculously steal of a price that I did (let's just say I paid $1500 below it's market value when I found it, at least). Even IF I could, I've made a decision/realization that I don't want another one so immediately (definitely not yet). Don't get me wrong, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the bike. It never failed me, and in the 6 months that I owned it and rode everyday of I never had to bring it to a shop. The first and only time I ever did was after the accident.
I absolutely loved that bike, which is actually a good reason why I won't have another one so soon. I remember random times during the day when I would come out to my garage to do nothing but simply look at it. Really. I couldn't get enough of that bike, whether on it or off it. It was borderline unhealthy (though harmless), and while I'm not exactly complaining, I've realized that I'm ultimately better off moving into another machine that doesn't evoke such zaniness from me.
Used Bike Buying 101:
When buying a used bike, it's never
a bad idea to buy new tires for it.
Which is why I decided to come back to what I was familiar with. Perhaps not in love with, but comfortable with. To replace the Aprilia I decided to pick up a Yamaha R1, a Japanese literbike with an Inline-4 engine. Against the Aprilia's Italian V-twin set-up, I felt the R1 was the best bike to "settle" with. I enjoyed the exclusiveness of the Aprilia and the experience of an Italian V-twin machine, but now that I've decided to simply enjoy riding like I've always had without lusting after the machine, there was no better way to do that than to come back to a landscape I was all too familiar with.
This bike will take me back
to my roots.
I'm not saying I don't like the R1 or think it's a fantastic machine, all I'm saying is that I don't think I'll be running to the garage at random times of the day just to ogle at it anymore, or perhaps sit by the window when dining in so I can stare at it as I enjoy a meal. In some ways, it will be liberating to just ride the machine and enjoy it, nothing more.
This won't really be a whole new era of riding for me. More appropriately, I think it's just a return to what riding is essentially to me: to ride. I've got a long riding life ahead of me, and looking back at the number of motorcycles that have come and gone from my garage, I think I'll be alright to just stick with what I have now, enjoy it, and ride until it can't be ridden anymore.
Nothing more involved other than swinging my leg over the machine, ride, and come back home to park it.
Out with the old, in with the new,
with what's always been.
It was really good while it lasted. REALLY GOOD. I know it's absolutely ridiculous to go ga-ga for what's essentially an internal combustion engine with two wheels, but my Aprilia really was a dream. I swear to god, before I even saw the bike in person or even rode it, I immediately fell in love with it (thank Torque). How lucky was I when I finally got my hands on one, then find out that it rode every bit like the dream that I dreamt of?
Either the bike fell on my lap,
or I on it.
Then the suit, and then the track fairings, all used and bought from private parties, yet they all managed to fit perfectly, like it was meant to be. How the heck would I top that?
Truthfully, there's just no way. Without even counting every kismet-like story behind everything involving the Aprilia, there was just no way I was going to find another RSV Mille that was as pristine (the bike defined the word when I got it, I swear) and at a ridiculously steal of a price that I did (let's just say I paid $1500 below it's market value when I found it, at least). Even IF I could, I've made a decision/realization that I don't want another one so immediately (definitely not yet). Don't get me wrong, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the bike. It never failed me, and in the 6 months that I owned it and rode everyday of I never had to bring it to a shop. The first and only time I ever did was after the accident.
I absolutely loved that bike, which is actually a good reason why I won't have another one so soon. I remember random times during the day when I would come out to my garage to do nothing but simply look at it. Really. I couldn't get enough of that bike, whether on it or off it. It was borderline unhealthy (though harmless), and while I'm not exactly complaining, I've realized that I'm ultimately better off moving into another machine that doesn't evoke such zaniness from me.
Used Bike Buying 101:
When buying a used bike, it's never
a bad idea to buy new tires for it.
Which is why I decided to come back to what I was familiar with. Perhaps not in love with, but comfortable with. To replace the Aprilia I decided to pick up a Yamaha R1, a Japanese literbike with an Inline-4 engine. Against the Aprilia's Italian V-twin set-up, I felt the R1 was the best bike to "settle" with. I enjoyed the exclusiveness of the Aprilia and the experience of an Italian V-twin machine, but now that I've decided to simply enjoy riding like I've always had without lusting after the machine, there was no better way to do that than to come back to a landscape I was all too familiar with.
This bike will take me back
to my roots.
I'm not saying I don't like the R1 or think it's a fantastic machine, all I'm saying is that I don't think I'll be running to the garage at random times of the day just to ogle at it anymore, or perhaps sit by the window when dining in so I can stare at it as I enjoy a meal. In some ways, it will be liberating to just ride the machine and enjoy it, nothing more.
This won't really be a whole new era of riding for me. More appropriately, I think it's just a return to what riding is essentially to me: to ride. I've got a long riding life ahead of me, and looking back at the number of motorcycles that have come and gone from my garage, I think I'll be alright to just stick with what I have now, enjoy it, and ride until it can't be ridden anymore.
Nothing more involved other than swinging my leg over the machine, ride, and come back home to park it.
Out with the old, in with the new,
with what's always been.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Pretty Lucky for an Unlucky Guy
I'm supposed to be doing my second day in Buttonwillow as of this moment, but as luck would have it, I'm home instead writing about it.
Let's start from the beginning.
The long drive to Buttonwillow Raceway
I signed up for a pretty sweet deal for two days in Buttonwillow Raceway, which is the only track left I have yet to ride within a 250 mile radius of me (Buttonwillow's just over 200 miles away), where I was able to ride a second day for just under $30 starting Labor Day (yesterday). For those that know track days, know that that was an insane deal to pass up. So I packed up my stuff and did the long drive the night before, having planned on camping out at the track.
Day breaks on Buttonwillow.
You know you do too many trackdays
when you can set up your station by yourself.
I now find this shot
extremely foreboding.
First impression of Buttonwillow Raceway was surprising. I had lower expectations for their facilities, but it was actually respectable. The track itself was noteworthy for how flat it simply is. Compared to Laguna Seca, Thunderhill, Infineon, and even Reno-Fernley, I've never been on a track that only had about a couple of elevation changes that maybe didn't even break 10 ft. in height.
Flat-out flat.
I also noticed how much more narrow the track itself was compared to the aforementioned others. It's still a racetrack, just not up to par with what I've been used to. I'm inclined to say that for someone like me who lives over 200 miles from it, I'm not sure it's worth the drive for me when premier tracks are within 90 miles of me. After my first session of the day and initial assessment, I simply looked forward to making the most of my coming two days on this track, learnng it, and perhaps learn more as a rider on a new track. I had intentionally signed up for the slow group for that day, as I thought that would be the best way to learn a new track. Track organizations tend to move you up when you're ready, or as they see fit, so despite being a B rider, I settled for the C group until I became familiar with the track.
Just after the first session.
Disaster happened in the second session.
The picture above is Buttonwillow Raceway's straightaway, the road between the last turn going into its first turn. Every track has this straightaway, and suffice it to say, it's pretty much the fastest part of any track. By the time you hit the middle part of this stretch of road, you're already in triple digits and still climbing, full throttle. Coming out of the last turn, I stayed on the outside line while I was accelerating like I'm used to, as most C group riders aren't quite familiar yet with the disciplines of riding in the track and tend to run every line on this part of the track. It's not a fault to point out, just mere fact as new riders are still learning. As my bike is pulling me past the other riders that were in the middle line, one of them happened to move from the middle line into the outside line just as I was about pass them, my throttle still pinned. While the other rider didn't swerve as quick as lightning, it was abrupt enough to only leave me time to react, but not enough to give me enough ground to brake. So while I was already on the brakes, I collided with the other rider, myself hitting his right rear where his tailpipe is, and next thing I know, I'm down on the ground sliding with my bike for a moment, and then rolling over and over into the dirt at triple digit speeds. The circle on the picture above was where the collision occurred, with the line as my path and the X marking where I ended up, which according to the legend is about 200 ft. from where we collided.
I remember thinking as I was sliding/rolling that there was no way I was going to walk away from this, and so I was surprised when I ended up on my knees by the time I stopped rolling, trying to spit dirt out of my mouth. I got up to make sure I could, gave myself a moment to collect, and realized that I was fine. I couldn't believe it, and no one could believe that I walked away without anything broken. Just a small gash on my middle finger, and a sizeable (but nothing to write home about) gash on my left knee.
My condition belied the
severity of the crash...
...but my gear...
...and my bike did not.
My bike and I were then ferried off the track and back into my station. I immediately slipped off my suit, which was when I discovered the gash on my knee, and rode my bicycle to the nearest ambulance to have myself patched up. Then I rode around the track to look for the other guy I collided with to make sure he was alright, as I remember looking for him when I got up, and found him on the dirt as well, but upright and seemed to be able to ride back on the track. Fortunately, he didn't go down. I proceeded to then pack my station for the long ride home.
There really isn't a "good crash" per se, but you know it is when you're able to pack your stuff yourself. You know it is when you're able to drive the 200 miles home. You know it is when you can have a laugh about it, and still be lucid to learn from it.
The long drive home.
I got home and washed the bike and my gear down off of all the dust to better assess the damage. The bike will be en route to my shop in a couple of hours for an estimate, while I call my insurance to file a claim. My gear will now go on my wall as a constant reminder of a number of things, not the least of which is how lucky of a man I am.
My race fairings took the brunt
of the collision/crash. On the right
is what's left of my left side panel.
Yeah...
There are ironies not lost to me about this whole thing. One was my decision to move down to the C group for a non-competitive atmosphere to allow me to learn a new track without fear of somebody crashing into me due to some of the competitive riders in the B group. The other was that this was my second day of tracking my Aprilia, fresh off the first trackday I had with it when I've realized that it's not so bad to track the Aprilia, and I see no reason that it can't do that along with being my commuter and weekend rider. I had posted an ad to sell my track ZX6R just before this incident, since I was content with just one, do-it-all bike. Now it turns out that I'm going to be keeping the ZX6R, and I'm without a commuter bike until further notice.
Lesson(s) learned? One of the key disciplines of riding in the track, no matter how slow or fast you are, is to be predictable. Smoothness is the key in every input you do on your bike, so the resulting actions will not only surprise you as a rider, but the riders around you as well. So the lesson learned for me, as reiterated to me by a number of folks after the incident, was to stick in the group where you belong, as the unpredictability of newer riders can be as much of a hazard as the competitive nature of some of the experienced ones, if not more.
The adrenaline must have worn off because when I woke up this morning, my body felt like it hit the pavement, slid, and rolled in triple digit speeds. Thankfully, I'm still whole since I can move around and walk just fine, albeit sore.
Off to the shop to drop off the Aprilia for an assessment, and if I can get over my stubborn nature, maybe stop by my doctor to make sure everything in me is copacetic.
Let's start from the beginning.
The long drive to Buttonwillow Raceway
I signed up for a pretty sweet deal for two days in Buttonwillow Raceway, which is the only track left I have yet to ride within a 250 mile radius of me (Buttonwillow's just over 200 miles away), where I was able to ride a second day for just under $30 starting Labor Day (yesterday). For those that know track days, know that that was an insane deal to pass up. So I packed up my stuff and did the long drive the night before, having planned on camping out at the track.
Day breaks on Buttonwillow.
You know you do too many trackdays
when you can set up your station by yourself.
I now find this shot
extremely foreboding.
First impression of Buttonwillow Raceway was surprising. I had lower expectations for their facilities, but it was actually respectable. The track itself was noteworthy for how flat it simply is. Compared to Laguna Seca, Thunderhill, Infineon, and even Reno-Fernley, I've never been on a track that only had about a couple of elevation changes that maybe didn't even break 10 ft. in height.
Flat-out flat.
I also noticed how much more narrow the track itself was compared to the aforementioned others. It's still a racetrack, just not up to par with what I've been used to. I'm inclined to say that for someone like me who lives over 200 miles from it, I'm not sure it's worth the drive for me when premier tracks are within 90 miles of me. After my first session of the day and initial assessment, I simply looked forward to making the most of my coming two days on this track, learnng it, and perhaps learn more as a rider on a new track. I had intentionally signed up for the slow group for that day, as I thought that would be the best way to learn a new track. Track organizations tend to move you up when you're ready, or as they see fit, so despite being a B rider, I settled for the C group until I became familiar with the track.
Just after the first session.
Disaster happened in the second session.
The picture above is Buttonwillow Raceway's straightaway, the road between the last turn going into its first turn. Every track has this straightaway, and suffice it to say, it's pretty much the fastest part of any track. By the time you hit the middle part of this stretch of road, you're already in triple digits and still climbing, full throttle. Coming out of the last turn, I stayed on the outside line while I was accelerating like I'm used to, as most C group riders aren't quite familiar yet with the disciplines of riding in the track and tend to run every line on this part of the track. It's not a fault to point out, just mere fact as new riders are still learning. As my bike is pulling me past the other riders that were in the middle line, one of them happened to move from the middle line into the outside line just as I was about pass them, my throttle still pinned. While the other rider didn't swerve as quick as lightning, it was abrupt enough to only leave me time to react, but not enough to give me enough ground to brake. So while I was already on the brakes, I collided with the other rider, myself hitting his right rear where his tailpipe is, and next thing I know, I'm down on the ground sliding with my bike for a moment, and then rolling over and over into the dirt at triple digit speeds. The circle on the picture above was where the collision occurred, with the line as my path and the X marking where I ended up, which according to the legend is about 200 ft. from where we collided.
I remember thinking as I was sliding/rolling that there was no way I was going to walk away from this, and so I was surprised when I ended up on my knees by the time I stopped rolling, trying to spit dirt out of my mouth. I got up to make sure I could, gave myself a moment to collect, and realized that I was fine. I couldn't believe it, and no one could believe that I walked away without anything broken. Just a small gash on my middle finger, and a sizeable (but nothing to write home about) gash on my left knee.
My condition belied the
severity of the crash...
...but my gear...
...and my bike did not.
My bike and I were then ferried off the track and back into my station. I immediately slipped off my suit, which was when I discovered the gash on my knee, and rode my bicycle to the nearest ambulance to have myself patched up. Then I rode around the track to look for the other guy I collided with to make sure he was alright, as I remember looking for him when I got up, and found him on the dirt as well, but upright and seemed to be able to ride back on the track. Fortunately, he didn't go down. I proceeded to then pack my station for the long ride home.
There really isn't a "good crash" per se, but you know it is when you're able to pack your stuff yourself. You know it is when you're able to drive the 200 miles home. You know it is when you can have a laugh about it, and still be lucid to learn from it.
The long drive home.
I got home and washed the bike and my gear down off of all the dust to better assess the damage. The bike will be en route to my shop in a couple of hours for an estimate, while I call my insurance to file a claim. My gear will now go on my wall as a constant reminder of a number of things, not the least of which is how lucky of a man I am.
My race fairings took the brunt
of the collision/crash. On the right
is what's left of my left side panel.
Yeah...
There are ironies not lost to me about this whole thing. One was my decision to move down to the C group for a non-competitive atmosphere to allow me to learn a new track without fear of somebody crashing into me due to some of the competitive riders in the B group. The other was that this was my second day of tracking my Aprilia, fresh off the first trackday I had with it when I've realized that it's not so bad to track the Aprilia, and I see no reason that it can't do that along with being my commuter and weekend rider. I had posted an ad to sell my track ZX6R just before this incident, since I was content with just one, do-it-all bike. Now it turns out that I'm going to be keeping the ZX6R, and I'm without a commuter bike until further notice.
Lesson(s) learned? One of the key disciplines of riding in the track, no matter how slow or fast you are, is to be predictable. Smoothness is the key in every input you do on your bike, so the resulting actions will not only surprise you as a rider, but the riders around you as well. So the lesson learned for me, as reiterated to me by a number of folks after the incident, was to stick in the group where you belong, as the unpredictability of newer riders can be as much of a hazard as the competitive nature of some of the experienced ones, if not more.
The adrenaline must have worn off because when I woke up this morning, my body felt like it hit the pavement, slid, and rolled in triple digit speeds. Thankfully, I'm still whole since I can move around and walk just fine, albeit sore.
Off to the shop to drop off the Aprilia for an assessment, and if I can get over my stubborn nature, maybe stop by my doctor to make sure everything in me is copacetic.
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