There are primordial instincts that you just can’t explain. Much like a salmon returns to the same river to spawn and die, I have always wanted to ride my GS on a closed track. The irony is that I don’t particularly want to go fast, and have no aspirations of racing. For the most part, I am a jack-of-trades and master of none--a commuter, off-road adventurer, and endurance rally rider. However, I love the challenge of technical cornering, and to that end, I am questing the next level. Most sporting events have a natural progression of classes; however, I’ve had a difficult time dipping my toe into track schools, as they have been a prohibitively expensive proposition. First, as a short female, I have little hope that a rental one-piece leather suit would come close to fitting my curvaceous outline which is adorned with t-rex length arms. Secondly, “race” prepping my commuter bike for a 2 day track seems like a month long project once the safety wiring, flushing the radiator with non-glycol solution and removing the lights/glass.
With extraordinary luck, Morton’s BMW sponsored Reg Pridmore's CLASS Motorcycle School for two days at Virginia International Raceway in Alton, VA. And, the tech requirements are such that I can meet them! Does everyone remember that wretched time of year, when the tape tries to wrap you up as you try in vain to wrap a square box? Who knew that was just a warm up session to taping up a rear brake light on a motorcycle. With my bike in good mechanical condition and my textile riding suit, I am all but ready to conquer tech inspection.
VIR was apparently first developed in the 1950s. It was bankrupted in the 1970s. A consortium bought it in the 1990s, and completed construction to the current status. The place is adorable from top to bottom, and everything from the delicious coconut seabass dinner at the Oak Tree Tavern, to Jacuzzi bathtub at The Lodge trackside rooms which overlook turn 6, the perfectly manicured lawns, to the billiard table perfect track tarmac.
As I approach the VIR perimeter gate on the afternoon before class, I am instructed to sign a release and follow the signs for “go-carting”, which apparently will lead me my room at The Lodge. No sooner do I dismount the bike, a swarm of pissed-off bumble bees can be heard approaching. In fact, they are not bees at all, but race modified Mazda Miatas clearing turns 4-6 just a stone’s throw from The Lodge’s balcony.
With extraordinary luck, Morton’s BMW sponsored Reg Pridmore's CLASS Motorcycle School for two days at Virginia International Raceway in Alton, VA. And, the tech requirements are such that I can meet them! Does everyone remember that wretched time of year, when the tape tries to wrap you up as you try in vain to wrap a square box? Who knew that was just a warm up session to taping up a rear brake light on a motorcycle. With my bike in good mechanical condition and my textile riding suit, I am all but ready to conquer tech inspection.
VIR was apparently first developed in the 1950s. It was bankrupted in the 1970s. A consortium bought it in the 1990s, and completed construction to the current status. The place is adorable from top to bottom, and everything from the delicious coconut seabass dinner at the Oak Tree Tavern, to Jacuzzi bathtub at The Lodge trackside rooms which overlook turn 6, the perfectly manicured lawns, to the billiard table perfect track tarmac.
As I approach the VIR perimeter gate on the afternoon before class, I am instructed to sign a release and follow the signs for “go-carting”, which apparently will lead me my room at The Lodge. No sooner do I dismount the bike, a swarm of pissed-off bumble bees can be heard approaching. In fact, they are not bees at all, but race modified Mazda Miatas clearing turns 4-6 just a stone’s throw from The Lodge’s balcony.
A Room with A View--The Balcony at The Lodge
I ponder if those are the supposed “go carts” the signs allude to. No sooner I delight in watching them for a few laps, they are done. A Zamboni-type sweeper the size of small corn combine whirls into action scrubbing every inch of the track and darkness falls on the track.
The key to succeeding (and the winners podium) at any event that relies on you mounted on either another creature such as a horse, or machine such as motorcycle is as follows; In order to win the event, you must first complete the course while still mounted. In principle, sounds obvious eh? I have spent a fortune all on types of training classes, and that moral has always been the same. It remains to be seen if that fortune was large (probable) or small. We arrive at staging this am, first to sign our lives away (literally), to include a witnessed signature, then tech inspection. Tech inspection of my GS is met with quizzical thoughts from the tech inspectors, as the luggage racks, crash bars, aux fuel tank and clutch/rear brake wiring for crash and brush resistance makes little sense to them. In my defense, they see VIR as 2.25 ribbon of tarmac surrounded by pristinely manicured lawns. I look at the same area through the bars of my GS, and gaze over 1300 acres of pristinely manicured GS territory that is interrupted occasionally by tarmac. Morton’s BMW is known for their hometown welcoming feel and this event is no different--the VIR staging crew remarked what an eclectic group we were from fully prepped race bikes, to S1000s, K and R bikes, the full GS line up, even a lonely Harley! While I am not sure I saw anyone fail tech, there sure were a bunch of do overs. Most of the sport bike guys hadn't even wore off the tire whiskers, so it's not for lack of trying that everyone gets to this point.
Reggie is a delightful Brit, and he starts off with a short speech. The rules of the track are few. It would appear they would be content if we only did 3 things. First, when you leave staging, stay within 2 feet of the right lane until you enter the first turn. Secondly, while you can technically pass on any turn, you must do so on the outside. Realistically, there are only 4 areas that are primed for passing, but they don't damper our spirits by telling us that bit. Lastly, raise your left hand as you exit back to staging. We are divided into our somewhat disproportionately sized groups. Those that can spell "track" in A, and all others in B. Yes, no stress, you chose your own destiny by self-evaluating. This means we probably have a 15/35 split. Believe me, I am less than excited about the math on this one as my class has the larger number of riders, but remember one must end the event still mounted!
So, the A students leave the pit area parking to staging. Naturally, they swing wide to stage at the outside of 3 lanes. This leaves the B group to make a sharp right hand slow speed turn to the near-side of the staging lanes. Well, ain't this a hoot to watch all these sport bikes attempt to turn tightly at walking speed. The little GS shows them the way, but I am certain that there will be pile of bikes turtled before they all line up.
Miraculously, they somehow all find a staging spot unscathed. With that, the B group is led on a site survey with Reggie and his megaphone in hand. We go about 1/3rd of a mile, to the 4th turn and pull over. Reggie begins his mega phone spell as we watch the A group do their instructor-controlled warm up laps. No sooner than Reggie can start pointing at the passing A group, a rider goes ass-over-teakettle! While I might be stuck with the B group, at least I won't be brandished as "that guy" today. Thankfully, this will be the first and last happenstance of the day. We stop at one more turn for megaphone discussions before we are led around for our survey laps.
The rotation is 20 mins Group A, then 20 mins Group B. It's a really full day that runs with the precision of a London train schedule. CLASS racing has rented the entire facility replete with fire, medic, flaggers and staging controllers. It appears that a normal herd of control flags exceeds, but thankfully, there are only 3 flags for us to worry about today--yellow flag (caution), red flag (exit course at staging lane for down rider), and checkered flag (end of session).
The second round kicks off with a CLASS instructor leading 8 riders at a very slow pace. This is perhaps their subtle way of asking us to start every session by warming the tires. Without cause, all the instructors peel off to the staging lanes. We all wonder if we were supposed to follow. However, the flagmen aren't doing anything. The instructors are just letting everyone have a go and feel themselves out. Much like a young horse needs to gets the bucks out while being lunged; the riders apparently aren't in any mood to receive data. Damnit, they paid to ride a track, and ride a track they will. But then, our little voice brings us back. Have we been a given a free pass to run with scissors? Do we really lack any adult supervision? Where is my wubby blankie?
Soon enough the instructors filter back out. With the precision of a cowboy roping steer, they select the rider they will team with. If they point to their tail plate, its game on and you should follow them. My hats off to them, that they can ride that kind of course and still keep track of the rider behind them constantly adjusting their speed to match your abilities. Sometimes they put you in front. But the one-on-one rides always end with a debriefing in the staging lanes.
As you come by the last turn, there is road that leads back to staging--you have two options. WOT on the track, or you can ride slowly (!) through staging. The latter option, while initially unappetizing, offers two advantages. First if you are stuck in a mob ball, you can let them proceed and by the time you ride slowly through staging you might re-renter turn 1 and have the next lap on the track to yourself. Secondly, you can pick up an instructor to ride a few laps. WOT, on the other hand, I was told you could get to 155MPH. Riding a dual sport bike, I am thinking, sweet--I am glad they installed that mineshaft because finding vertical terminal velocity is the only way I will get to that speed. In fact, while really honking down the backstretch, I will barely break triple digits. The main problem I find is that pesky turn one at the end of 1/4 mile stretch.
As the swiss clock reveals, our 20 mins is up. When that happens, we are ushered back into the pit area. We dismount and head into the class room. Reggie spends the next 20 minutes talking about topics that you have probably heard at any basic MSF course. Remarkable really, a world class racer, and it all boils down to the same riding basics.
One thing that Reggie is legendary for is smoothness. Again, in order to win the competition, man and machine must stay mounted and finish under their own power. He attributes much of his success to not tearing up his transmissions—his method as follows: blipping the throttle, clutch in about 1/3rd, then shifting. By raising the RPMs first, the tranny has an easier time meshing to the next gear. He also stresses the importance of riding in high RPMs, as engine braking is your friend. I think that I miss construe this point, as much of my day is riding near red line. Who knew that 4th gear goes to 90 MPH before hitting the revlimiter.
We also do the classic braking exercises--roll on the front brake only, back brake only and both brake exercise. I can't believe the number of people that refuse to use their brakes. Do you drive a car without braking? It's probably best if you look up from your iPhone when you tell me the response!
The afternoon sessions are interlaced with open forum discussion of issues we are having. We discuss line selections on unsuspecting corners which are lulling us into a false complacency, and dragging us beyond any reasonable apex. Lap times are certainly faster. I was having a hoot with an instructor Gery, mounted on his personal HP4. Damn that bike just explodes out of turns. His pace dragged me perhaps a bit out of my comfort zone. But keep your eyes on his tail and ride on. His line really set me up well for the first turn--bike in a good RPM, good line, good body position, loose on the handle bars...and then. Then I realize my line is not his line. With that, I don't panic, but instead instinctively (over) weight that inside peg. Okay, I get that pegs are for feet to rest. Yes, I've always pegged steered while off road, but really, the change is remarkable on a track. The more you know! By the end of the day, my odometer will clock a bit over 130 miles, and leaving me feeling that the VIR’s North Course has offered all of her spoils in that 2.25 mile lap.
I should have realized that Day 2 would have been tougher. Tougher in the sense I damn near drown myself in the Jacuzzi last night whilst try as I might to rejuvenate. I pondered if a 2 day class was worth my money, or if I just won't enjoy myself in this tired condition. No sooner than I can cogitate on those thoughts, we are ushered out on the warm up laps. The track has a surreal feeling this morning. I am thankful to realize that the turns and track layout seem more intuitive today, as if the little people in my head needed the night to let sights and sounds of yesterday sink in. As the morning dew begins to lift off the track as the sun raises under cloudless blue skies, my energy also lifts. Today will be good indeed.
The key to succeeding (and the winners podium) at any event that relies on you mounted on either another creature such as a horse, or machine such as motorcycle is as follows; In order to win the event, you must first complete the course while still mounted. In principle, sounds obvious eh? I have spent a fortune all on types of training classes, and that moral has always been the same. It remains to be seen if that fortune was large (probable) or small. We arrive at staging this am, first to sign our lives away (literally), to include a witnessed signature, then tech inspection. Tech inspection of my GS is met with quizzical thoughts from the tech inspectors, as the luggage racks, crash bars, aux fuel tank and clutch/rear brake wiring for crash and brush resistance makes little sense to them. In my defense, they see VIR as 2.25 ribbon of tarmac surrounded by pristinely manicured lawns. I look at the same area through the bars of my GS, and gaze over 1300 acres of pristinely manicured GS territory that is interrupted occasionally by tarmac. Morton’s BMW is known for their hometown welcoming feel and this event is no different--the VIR staging crew remarked what an eclectic group we were from fully prepped race bikes, to S1000s, K and R bikes, the full GS line up, even a lonely Harley! While I am not sure I saw anyone fail tech, there sure were a bunch of do overs. Most of the sport bike guys hadn't even wore off the tire whiskers, so it's not for lack of trying that everyone gets to this point.
Reggie is a delightful Brit, and he starts off with a short speech. The rules of the track are few. It would appear they would be content if we only did 3 things. First, when you leave staging, stay within 2 feet of the right lane until you enter the first turn. Secondly, while you can technically pass on any turn, you must do so on the outside. Realistically, there are only 4 areas that are primed for passing, but they don't damper our spirits by telling us that bit. Lastly, raise your left hand as you exit back to staging. We are divided into our somewhat disproportionately sized groups. Those that can spell "track" in A, and all others in B. Yes, no stress, you chose your own destiny by self-evaluating. This means we probably have a 15/35 split. Believe me, I am less than excited about the math on this one as my class has the larger number of riders, but remember one must end the event still mounted!
So, the A students leave the pit area parking to staging. Naturally, they swing wide to stage at the outside of 3 lanes. This leaves the B group to make a sharp right hand slow speed turn to the near-side of the staging lanes. Well, ain't this a hoot to watch all these sport bikes attempt to turn tightly at walking speed. The little GS shows them the way, but I am certain that there will be pile of bikes turtled before they all line up.
Miraculously, they somehow all find a staging spot unscathed. With that, the B group is led on a site survey with Reggie and his megaphone in hand. We go about 1/3rd of a mile, to the 4th turn and pull over. Reggie begins his mega phone spell as we watch the A group do their instructor-controlled warm up laps. No sooner than Reggie can start pointing at the passing A group, a rider goes ass-over-teakettle! While I might be stuck with the B group, at least I won't be brandished as "that guy" today. Thankfully, this will be the first and last happenstance of the day. We stop at one more turn for megaphone discussions before we are led around for our survey laps.
The rotation is 20 mins Group A, then 20 mins Group B. It's a really full day that runs with the precision of a London train schedule. CLASS racing has rented the entire facility replete with fire, medic, flaggers and staging controllers. It appears that a normal herd of control flags exceeds, but thankfully, there are only 3 flags for us to worry about today--yellow flag (caution), red flag (exit course at staging lane for down rider), and checkered flag (end of session).
The second round kicks off with a CLASS instructor leading 8 riders at a very slow pace. This is perhaps their subtle way of asking us to start every session by warming the tires. Without cause, all the instructors peel off to the staging lanes. We all wonder if we were supposed to follow. However, the flagmen aren't doing anything. The instructors are just letting everyone have a go and feel themselves out. Much like a young horse needs to gets the bucks out while being lunged; the riders apparently aren't in any mood to receive data. Damnit, they paid to ride a track, and ride a track they will. But then, our little voice brings us back. Have we been a given a free pass to run with scissors? Do we really lack any adult supervision? Where is my wubby blankie?
Soon enough the instructors filter back out. With the precision of a cowboy roping steer, they select the rider they will team with. If they point to their tail plate, its game on and you should follow them. My hats off to them, that they can ride that kind of course and still keep track of the rider behind them constantly adjusting their speed to match your abilities. Sometimes they put you in front. But the one-on-one rides always end with a debriefing in the staging lanes.
As you come by the last turn, there is road that leads back to staging--you have two options. WOT on the track, or you can ride slowly (!) through staging. The latter option, while initially unappetizing, offers two advantages. First if you are stuck in a mob ball, you can let them proceed and by the time you ride slowly through staging you might re-renter turn 1 and have the next lap on the track to yourself. Secondly, you can pick up an instructor to ride a few laps. WOT, on the other hand, I was told you could get to 155MPH. Riding a dual sport bike, I am thinking, sweet--I am glad they installed that mineshaft because finding vertical terminal velocity is the only way I will get to that speed. In fact, while really honking down the backstretch, I will barely break triple digits. The main problem I find is that pesky turn one at the end of 1/4 mile stretch.
As the swiss clock reveals, our 20 mins is up. When that happens, we are ushered back into the pit area. We dismount and head into the class room. Reggie spends the next 20 minutes talking about topics that you have probably heard at any basic MSF course. Remarkable really, a world class racer, and it all boils down to the same riding basics.
One thing that Reggie is legendary for is smoothness. Again, in order to win the competition, man and machine must stay mounted and finish under their own power. He attributes much of his success to not tearing up his transmissions—his method as follows: blipping the throttle, clutch in about 1/3rd, then shifting. By raising the RPMs first, the tranny has an easier time meshing to the next gear. He also stresses the importance of riding in high RPMs, as engine braking is your friend. I think that I miss construe this point, as much of my day is riding near red line. Who knew that 4th gear goes to 90 MPH before hitting the revlimiter.
We also do the classic braking exercises--roll on the front brake only, back brake only and both brake exercise. I can't believe the number of people that refuse to use their brakes. Do you drive a car without braking? It's probably best if you look up from your iPhone when you tell me the response!
The afternoon sessions are interlaced with open forum discussion of issues we are having. We discuss line selections on unsuspecting corners which are lulling us into a false complacency, and dragging us beyond any reasonable apex. Lap times are certainly faster. I was having a hoot with an instructor Gery, mounted on his personal HP4. Damn that bike just explodes out of turns. His pace dragged me perhaps a bit out of my comfort zone. But keep your eyes on his tail and ride on. His line really set me up well for the first turn--bike in a good RPM, good line, good body position, loose on the handle bars...and then. Then I realize my line is not his line. With that, I don't panic, but instead instinctively (over) weight that inside peg. Okay, I get that pegs are for feet to rest. Yes, I've always pegged steered while off road, but really, the change is remarkable on a track. The more you know! By the end of the day, my odometer will clock a bit over 130 miles, and leaving me feeling that the VIR’s North Course has offered all of her spoils in that 2.25 mile lap.
I should have realized that Day 2 would have been tougher. Tougher in the sense I damn near drown myself in the Jacuzzi last night whilst try as I might to rejuvenate. I pondered if a 2 day class was worth my money, or if I just won't enjoy myself in this tired condition. No sooner than I can cogitate on those thoughts, we are ushered out on the warm up laps. The track has a surreal feeling this morning. I am thankful to realize that the turns and track layout seem more intuitive today, as if the little people in my head needed the night to let sights and sounds of yesterday sink in. As the morning dew begins to lift off the track as the sun raises under cloudless blue skies, my energy also lifts. Today will be good indeed.
Trackside Waiting for the Morning Mist to Rise
Despite having 8 instructors for the class, most are working hard today for their Wheaties. Yes, I make a few passes through pit row to find one, but nary one to be had. The instructor cadre was an interesting dynamic to watch. While all were nimble like cats, they would engage each other at every opportunity, questing for that nugget to make their rides better too. It's then that one mentioned:
“You are either green and growing your knowledge or ripe red and rotting.”
It's true though. While luck and passion can get you far, staying at the top of any game requires strategy, skill and learning. About midday, the B group is getting pretty cheeky on the track. Soon enough, someone decides that there is absolutely no reason to set up for turn 1, you can just try out that nice run off grass field. Sigh, two days and two offs.
After lunch, Reggie is offering 2-up sessions with him at the helm, and I am all game. He's fancied himself on a S1000. Anybody can drone on all day about textbook examples of how you need to do everything without upsetting the bikes suspension, but he's the real deal--silky smooth. One technique he talked about to learn smoother shifting is chose a speed around 50 or 60MPH on a straight road. Row down the gears 6-5-4-3 then back up 3-4-5-6, but you can't speed up or slow down off that speed. No popping the clutch, no herky-jerky. I figure next time I am stuck on a lonely road, this will be my practice time.
Towards the end of day, a instructor is fitted with GoPro to lap all of us for our 10 seconds of fame. But one fact that comes to light, he hits the same spot on each and every lap. It's somewhat achievable for a novice to get a corner or two really good, less likely to get an entire lap and pretty much improbable that we can string together a few laps. We've yet to learn the art and conservation of energy.
“You are either green and growing your knowledge or ripe red and rotting.”
It's true though. While luck and passion can get you far, staying at the top of any game requires strategy, skill and learning. About midday, the B group is getting pretty cheeky on the track. Soon enough, someone decides that there is absolutely no reason to set up for turn 1, you can just try out that nice run off grass field. Sigh, two days and two offs.
After lunch, Reggie is offering 2-up sessions with him at the helm, and I am all game. He's fancied himself on a S1000. Anybody can drone on all day about textbook examples of how you need to do everything without upsetting the bikes suspension, but he's the real deal--silky smooth. One technique he talked about to learn smoother shifting is chose a speed around 50 or 60MPH on a straight road. Row down the gears 6-5-4-3 then back up 3-4-5-6, but you can't speed up or slow down off that speed. No popping the clutch, no herky-jerky. I figure next time I am stuck on a lonely road, this will be my practice time.
Towards the end of day, a instructor is fitted with GoPro to lap all of us for our 10 seconds of fame. But one fact that comes to light, he hits the same spot on each and every lap. It's somewhat achievable for a novice to get a corner or two really good, less likely to get an entire lap and pretty much improbable that we can string together a few laps. We've yet to learn the art and conservation of energy.
I end Day 2 on a really high note. On the closing session, I realize how far I have come in such a very short time. At the same time, there is a lost innocence. Innocence that knows that the adrenaline junkie in me will never succumb to a silly Disneyland roller coaster ride again. This is the real deal.
Just at the clock strikes 1700, the track is cold and the gate slams shut. A parade of Toyota Supras is entering the pits for tomorrow's prepping, presumably they are the reason there are no rooms at The Lodge for tonight. I initially decide to go 2 hours and find a hotel, but really who wants to overnight when home is just another 1.5 hours away?
Although Reggie looks at his watch and then laments he'll be 57 next year, there are rumors that he is sun setting his career. My guess is that he’s probably completed a wee bit more than 57 trips around the sun. While his brain thinks it time to get off the range, his passion for the sport can’t leave the smell of avgas and revving motors. Anyhow, 90% of his clientele of this class are repeat offenders. I guess I will be in that boat too, if he comes east again. Who knows, by the time CLASS comes back to VIR, I might find myself on an 800R or maybe a new 310R.
Just at the clock strikes 1700, the track is cold and the gate slams shut. A parade of Toyota Supras is entering the pits for tomorrow's prepping, presumably they are the reason there are no rooms at The Lodge for tonight. I initially decide to go 2 hours and find a hotel, but really who wants to overnight when home is just another 1.5 hours away?
Although Reggie looks at his watch and then laments he'll be 57 next year, there are rumors that he is sun setting his career. My guess is that he’s probably completed a wee bit more than 57 trips around the sun. While his brain thinks it time to get off the range, his passion for the sport can’t leave the smell of avgas and revving motors. Anyhow, 90% of his clientele of this class are repeat offenders. I guess I will be in that boat too, if he comes east again. Who knows, by the time CLASS comes back to VIR, I might find myself on an 800R or maybe a new 310R.
