Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1990's

with World Champion Schwantz and former AMA Superbike Champion Thomas Stevens, not to mention help from Jason Pridmore, Tom Kipp, Randy Renfrow and anyone else with whom I even brought up the subject. These guys actually seemed pretty excited to see me so far over my head. Although I ended up a tad overloaded with information, I must say that everything they told me worked. If only I could remember to do it all. Mind you, there was plenty that I was doing wrong, but a few things stood out more than others - a fact I noticed when I concentrated on fixing what ailed me. I had started out rushing corners on a motorcycle on which carrying cornering speed is everything. And I also had a bad habit of staring at the race track six to eight inches in front of my front wheel. Once I calmed down, got off the brakes a bit easier and looked up the race track further, things instantly had gotten better. And faster. I went from being passed more than a collection plate at church to actually passing a few people myself. But that was still going to be problem number one when it came to the race. I had an uncanny ability to catch someone, only to slow to their speed until I absolutely, positively found a place that I could pass without threatening either myself or them. It didn't take me long to realize that the majority of the others on the race track didn't seem to be as polite as me. This in spite of my constant reminders to as many of them who would listen that I would absolutely, positively never spell their names correctly again if they so much as even came close to ramming me off the track. I was particularly worried about the IS-year-olds, though I probably shouldn't have been. I was pitted with Anthony Gobert's younger brother, Alex - he of the IS-year-old variety of racer. Instead of being a punk kid with an attitude, young Mr. Gobert was nothing but a gentleman, showing genuine concern of this old editor making it through the weekend unscathed. He even paid me a compliment when he stated, "None of the journos at home could do what you're doing." Well, I guess that was a compliment. Prior to going out in Saturday morning's qualifying session, I figured that practicing a start would be a good idea. • Starting from pit road, I gave the Aprilia some stick, dumped the clutch and about stalled. Whew, glad I got that over with - the race should be a piece of cake. Following that session (I got going a bit quicker - [ was definitely ready to race), [ went out to get some advice on my starting technique. The man who set me straight was Renfrow, a longtime two-stroke racer. What he told me was so valuable, I can't even share it with you - just in case I come out of retirement for one more of these. Another piece of advice was to cheat, though that didn't come from Renfrow. An unnamed racer told me to roll like a sonof-a-gun at the start. Now, tfuzt I could do. All hell broke loose about one hour before the start of my race when I encountered a serious case of PRS - PreRace Syndrome. At least that's what Stevens called it. All I knew is that I wanted to vomit and my hands were • shaking like an alcoholic after a five-ciay binge. No matter how many people told me to calm down, I couldn't. I was hosed, but I knew it. The next thing I knew, I was leaving pit lane on my warmup lap (after getting perhaps the most solid piece of advice of the entire weekend, from team owner Vance: "Paul, if you get hurt, I'm going to kick your butt."). I couldn't even think straight. Then I arrived back at the grid. It was at this point that I realized just how far back the seventh row of the grid actually was. I needed binoculars to see the front row, a telescope to see the lights that would tell me when to start cheating. This didn't do much for my confidence, and my math from the night before was shot to hell. You see, I did some simple calculations with my lap times vs. the lap times of the fast guys. I didn't want to be lapped and I didn't want my 15 minutes of farne to include three 15-year-olds giving me the finger as I blocked their path into the chicane on the final lap. What my calculations didn't include was the fact that these guys were starting in the next county and I was already giving up valuable time. Boy, I really did need to cheat. But [ couldn't even do that right. I started to creep, peI: my instructions, but I did so too early. I was still rolling as the AMA official to my right side started writing down my number. Figuring they already thought of me as the Mat MIadin of journalists, I decided to stop then go as the lights flashed to green. I stilI got a decent start, passing riders at least two rows ahead of me. All was rosy in Carruthersland until we arrived at turn one. At this point I felt like a kid who'd just stuck a stick into a beehive. Riders were everywhere, and they all seemed to be attacking. I tiptoed through turns one to five and realized by the time I arrived at turn six that everything I'd learned over the past few days was forgotten. My heart rate was so high, I wasn't even breathing, and I found myself using the back brake - something I've never done on a street bike. I calmed myself, settled into a pace that was too slow and wasn't overly concerned about my race pace until two riders stuffed me in consecutive comers. Okay, this is war. I suddenly started to do everything right (or as close to right as I was capable of), and [ was going forward - catching those two bastards who had stuffed me. I ended up running them both down and beating them both, though the three of uS had a great battle. Suddenly, I was passing with reckless abandon and it felt good. I even managed to pass a guy on the brakes going into tum one - right where I knew myoid man was watching from. And I passed a guy coming down the hill into the final corner, a place that had me spooked for the previous two days. I was Valentino Rossi. Before I knew it, the white flag came out and despite one desperate attempt to pass from one of The author (72) tries to hold off a pack of screaming Aprilias, Including Christopher Boy (71) and John Carson (43), John Orr (hidden), Jove Shapiro (57) and journalist Peter Jones (25). , my combatants, I held him off to the flag. Top 20, no problem, I thought to myself as I circulated on the cool-off lap. Much to my chagrin, the results came in and I was listed as being 26th. But I was still happy. After all, I had done my best laps, bettering my goal of doing a 1:44 by half a second and actually dipping into the 43s. I had one of my journalist peers ahead of me, and one behind - and I was okay with that. And I didn't need a butt-kickin' from Terry Vance. And I didn't get lapped. I'd also taken a little of Nixon's advice and had scared myself once or twice. The next day I found out that I had been bumped up to 25th. One of the top guys had cheated. The next week, however, I found out I was still 26th. It turns out he didn't cheat after all. By that point it didn't matter. I'd told everybody I was 25th and I wasn't changing my story. Since then, I've officially announced my retirement from the sport of road racing - just like my buddy Renfrow. Hey, didn't he just race again? t:III All that and a bucket of chicken I 've never been much of a fan of spec-class racing, but then again I've never much been a fan of the Harley-Da\~dson 883 Sportster. I'm here to tell you right now that spec-class racing with the Aprilia RS250 would work. It would make for great racing for young and old, and because of the complexities of going fast on a little twostroke, I believe it would u1timatelv make for better racers. With that said, let's look at the package itself. The Aprilia RS250 is a race bike. Plain and simple. Although it's sold in other parts of the world as a street bike, it makes its way to America only as a race bike. Therefore, it carries little in the way of street-bike amenities - which for racing purposes is a good thing. One look at the bike and you know you're in for a good time. Things like a steering damper, fiberglass bodywork, aluminum frame and a braced swingarm make the bike look the part, and integrated together, tlley make it feel the part when you ride it. It's a 2SOcc GP bike, albeit a bit slower. Chassiswise, it fits the biU and is race ready right off the showroom floor. It's only a case of point-and-go with the Aprilia, and the faster you go, the better it seems to like it. Other than thrOWing Dunlop tires at it, changing the gearing one tooth on the front, and aHering the jetting, mine was ready to race. r never touched the suspension settings from the time I arrived at Road Atlanta - and that's usually the first thing that gets messed with on a street bike. What the Suzuki RGV-based, 2490c liquid-cooled V-twin lacks in outright power, it makes up for in cornering speed that has to be tried to be believed. Naturally, it makes the majority of its 60 hp up high from 10.soo to 12,000 or SO rpm - but it produces usable power from 8000 on up. [t also has a nifty little red light that glows - via a prepro- grammed rev setting on the tach, telling you it's time to bang another upshift. Trust me, the light's on a lot. In all my time on the bike, I can honestly report having never missed a shift or hit a false neutral in the bike's six-;;peed gearbox - and for all the mistakes [ made over the course of the Road Atlanta weekend, that's saying something for the package. With no engine modifications allowed to run in the Aprilia Cup Challenge, it really' is all up to the rider (and a bit of proper jetting). This year's series features four races, but Aprilia is hoping for a fullblown series in 2000. With a brand-new Aprilia RS250 costing just a bit over $8000, there's not many cheaper ways of going competitive road racing. If that's too much, you can also pick up a used '98-model Aprilia for less. Young or old, if you've ever thought of going road racing - with dreams of being the next Biaggi or of just being a guy having a good time - do yourself a favor and give the little Aprilia a try. You'll be glad you did. For more informDtion on the RS250 or on the Aprilia Cup Cllat/enge, cat/ Zero Gravity at 800/345-9791. Tet/ 'em thai whining little Carruthers sent ya. '" . '" <=> ~ . C'> c: ~ .." 37

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