Cycle News is a weekly magazine that covers all aspects of motorcycling including Supercross, Motocross and MotoGP as well as new motorcycles
Issue link: https://magazine.cyclenews.com/i/128123
•• Team Cycle News takes on the 24 Hours of Glen Helen found my speed increasing, first incrementally, then substantially, and it soon became evident that day was dawning - a fact that wasn't at first obvious, since the overcast skies prevented any view of the sunrise. My vision was still limited by my mist-covered glasses, but with the increased light, I was amazed at the difference in speeds at the beginning and end of this transitional riding stage. C.J. At 2:30 a.m. on Sunday, I sat in the pits, semiconscious, preparing for my next shift by eating lime-flavored potato chips and drinking coffee and Red Bull. I put two tear-offs on my goggles and started to throw them over my helmet as Scott Rousseau came in for a pit stop. "Don't use your goggles," he yelled. "You'll see much better without them." I figured he was nuts, but I kept the thought to myself and trusted his judgment. As it turns out, he was right - I was able to see the track much better without the goggles. L.M. At first, I hated the wooded section of the track. Then my disdain turned to the sandy downhill section that about killed me five (maybe 12) times. Then I started to like the wooded section, as it was one of the few parts where 1 felt like I couldn't seriously injure myself. The trees looked fairly soft. And I was going really slowly. Soft and slow wouldn't land me in hospital. The big downhill could hurt me. Then they changed the sandy downhill, giving us an alternate route that was absolutely a beautiful sight. Instead of plowing my way down the hill with both feet on the ground, alternating front-end slides and near high-sides with the aplomb of a fat ballerina, I could negotiate the section without worry. The hatred I'd originally felt for the woods, then the downhm, didn't dissipate, it just moved to a different section. Now it was the silty, whoopedout section at the bottom of the hill that had my full attention. I couldn't go fast enough through there to make the bike work properly. Instead, it was a tedious task to negotiate the section, especially at night. Especially at night when a fast guy passed you, further blinding an already blind man with dust. That crappy section finally claimed me. I hadn't crashed the bike in 24 hours, but I crashed it in my final stint. It was a simple getoff: four front-end pushes and three tank-slappers followed by a running dismount. It didn't even hurt. As I was picking up the bike, I got roosted by a fellow competitor. At first I was pissed, but then I realized it was probably just a case of him being midtank-slap, mid-front-end push. My 18 SEPTEMBER 26, 200 1 • reaction turned out to be correct. Two corners later, I saw him on the ground. And I resisted the urge to roost him back. P.C. Steve Bobrofsky is another friend of mine who took part in the event with Team Cycle News. If Lance is calm, then Steve is clean. John Kocinski clean, if you know what I mean (Steve puts Armor All on the knobbies of his CR250 after every ride). I'd just jumped off the bike after my first stint and was heading back to the Fun Mover when I saw him coming toward me - it was Tom Cruise, had to be. There was Steve, hair gelled to perfection, riding gear clean and pressed, boots polished like a Marine, strolling through the pits. He looked like he'd been dropped straight o,ut of GQ - not GH. I fully expected a pack of pit tootsies to be trailing him. P.C. My last tum on the bike was somewhat stressful. With just a few hours left in the race, and with it looking like we just might actually finish this thing, there was no way I was going to be the one to ruin our - so far perfect ride. (And I'm sure everyone else was feeling the same way, too.) That last lap, I felt like I was riding an egg on eggshells. I dodged every rock, rode around every whoop and, just to be on the safe side, took the easier alternate route down the downhill that the course marshals had rigged during the night. I rode conservatively, to say the least. Handing the bike off to Scott for the last time was a relief, but not as much as I had thought. Yeah, I had done my part, I guess, but we still had a few hours left, and I wasn't going to be truly relieved until I saw Steve take that checkered flag. 1 can happily say now that I'm officially relieved. K.P. It was amazing to ride my last shift, which came at around 8 a.m., and s'urvey the terrain changes that cue .e had taken place. I was incredulous not only at the stuff that I had ridden through, but also grateful for the obstacles that I had missed. There was one rut on a short uphill that had swallowed me up during the night, though it only cost me a couple of minutes to get going again. Looking at it now, I couldn't even remember how I got the heck out of it. Dumb luck was the best guess I could make. Anyway, that last lap was one of my fastest ones, I'm sure. In fact, it had felt so good that I found myself wishing that it were the Glen Helen 36 hours. I feel pretty confident that all of my teammates would have been up to it, and I have no doubt that the KTM would have been. But I guess all things must come to an end. What a bitchin' bike. What a bitchin' race. 5.R. Though we'd run as high as fourth in class on Saturday, our slow night laps had us running last of those still going in our class when daytime rolled around. With a little under three hours remaining, it then became our mission to get each of our team members one more lap on the bike. This wasn't the best tactic for a strong result, but those hopes were pretty much shot anyway, and this gave us something to shoot for, and we nixed plans for a second oil change. Since I was the second-tolast rider in the lineup, I felt pressure to get the bike back to Steve in time for the final lap, and I took off like a bat out of hell after Paul handed me the bike. The guys were impressed by my speed around the moto track, but as soon as I disappeared from view and encountered the soft silt of the back section, I overcooked it and went over the bars in a dusty heap. With my left shoulder aching and silt coating my mouth and goggles, I . picked the bike up, climbed aboard, hit the starter button and dropped the clutch. Unfortunately, the fingertip of my glove got stuck between the pushed-in handguard and the broken clutch-lever tip, and for nearly half a mile, I struggled to extricate it while continuing to ride. Fortunately, we weren't cutting it as closely as I had imagined, and there was still plenty of time for Steve to do his white-flag lap after I made it into the pits. C.J. It was cool how everyone went so hard on their last ride to ensure that I would get the bike for one final lap. I have been riding bikes for over 30 years, and doing this race with the guys gave me a sense of accomplishment I'd never felt before. Getting that checkered flag was awesome. 5.B. So would I do it again? You betcha. Much like a woman going through childbirth, midrace I told myself that I'd never, ever, ever, ever consider reliving this nightmare. But, again, much like a woman who'd been through childbirth, the bad parts had quickly dissipated in the mind, leaving only wonderful thoughts as I coddled my finisher's medal like a newborn baby. P.C. The course itself was extremely technical and I thought it was great. Sunday morning, after my final ride, I was very tired and I looked like hell (according to my Wife). I went straight from Glen Helen to a Little League game that my son was playing in. I still don't remember the outcome of the game. I can't wait until next year. L.M. No, we didn't exactly set the world on fire. Our final result was only sixth in class (out of six finishers), midpack overall (out of 48 starters), and our 48-lap total wasn't exactly earthshattering. So why was it that when Steve went by the checkered flag, it was with his fist in the air, and the rest of us were all back-slapping and high-fiving like we'd just taken first in the Dakar Rally? Perhaps because we felt such a sense of camaraderie and teamwork, everyone having put in precisely the same number of laps. Or perhaps it was that the bike had come through so unscathed, never even sputtering the whole night long, which was fortunate, since we really didn't feel like working on it. Whatever the reason, we didn't even care about our lackluster results, and we were happy with our performance. We'll be back next year - with a brighter light system and a pit marshal. C.J. Everyone hustled to make sure Steve Bobrofsky got in his final lap, and despite our lackluster result, he was enthusiastic when he crossed the finish line. As we leamed, there's something special about a taam race. ne_s