My racing situation is unique, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, I'm fortunate enough to be able to race in a place as far away from me as Vegas because my boyfriend is a successful racer with his own mechanics; mechanics who have a large trailer and are happy to take my bike with them to James' races. I do pay them. But it affords me a high level of convenience that most novice racers simply don't have. Richard is a top mechanic in high demand, but he always makes time for me and I'm thankful.
What this means is that instead of hauling my stuff for ten plus hours and sleeping in a roach motel or my trailer, I flew into Vegas, checked into my hotel, and showed up at the track the next morning to find my bike out and ready for tech. It was rad.
After how stressed out and disappointed I was in my Buttonwillow weekend, I was prepared to not have any expectations and just
ride. I was excited to learn the track, and I was excited to push myself a little more to get on the brakes later and on the gas earlier.
I waited in line for almost 45 minutes to join WERA and sign up for practice and my races, so I missed the first practice. No big deal. Brant Wiwi came up to me in line saying "well, Mrs.
Randolph." For some reason him and his girlfriend are usually pitted near us. I think because he's often pitting with Terry and Robert Tinagero, and Robert idolizes James and always puts himself near us so he can hit up James and Richard for advice.
Realizing that I wouldn't get to practice all day because of the Solo 20 races, I decided to sign up for the brutally long twenty lap race so I could get some more practice at that track. As the day went on, I got excited for the race, for the challenge of it. I like beating the crap out of myself; it makes the shower at the end of the day immensely satisfying.
The day proceeded uneventfully. Ace, James and I went out to lunch in my rented Ford Escape and then toured around the enormous Las Vegas Motor Speedway complex. We paused on the side of the road to ogle a mansion-sized earth mover. The boys oohed and aahed over the huge suspension parts and massive axle rods, like little boys excited about some new Hot Wheels. We were disappointed that there weren't any Shelby Mustangs out at the Shelby factory, but then had fun watching go karts zipping around the go kart track.
We got back to the track and started to get ready for our respective races. Me, Solo 20 lightweight (determined by engine size), James and Ace in Solo 20 Heavyweight. I was waiting for race number five to roll around, and was inside the trailer watching the track. I started to see Shandra going by on her SV and I thought that I was supposed to be in the same race as her, but also knew it was race number four going on, so I went outside to see what the hell was going on. My race was in progress! They canceled race four! I was upset and started to gear up. They were 11 laps through, but I figured I could sneak out there and get some laps in, which I did. I rode a little harder than I had in practice that morning and got down to a 1:36, faster than my 1:37s in practice but still slower than Shandra. I didn't mind; I was just practicing.
I rode a little scooter down to a spot near turn 8 to watch James' race. He started out in fourth, but as the laps continued he started to drop back little by little. He didn't look like he was quite himself and he seemed pretty unhappy afterwards. We resolved to get to bed early that night after getting in late the night before, logging only four hours of sleep.
The next day, even though it was race day, was more mellow. I didn't have to sign up for anything, my bike was already on warmers and had been teched the day before, and my mood was cheerful and excited. I had two practices in the morning, getting down to a 1:36. I didn't have nearly the same sense of foreboding and doom as I did before my first Clubman race at Buttonwillow and just cruised on up to my grid spot, ready to get some more practice in. I thought I was part of a second wave, so when the green flag flew I made sure my fellow novice was also going, and that put me dead last. I caught up to Michael Mamer on his retro styled Ducati and was presented with the challenge of passing someone who's slow in the corners but has more motor than me on the exit. I tailgated him relentlessly for eight laps, almost passing him twice but each time aborting. I didn't trust him to not freak out and crash as I showed him a wheel. No excuse, I should have still gone for it, but there will always be next time. I came in third out of three with a laptime of 1:34.
I don't know her very well, but I have a ton of respect for Shandra; she and I chatted some and it's clear she is into this and enjoys the mental and physical challenges of it. I figure she's in her mid to late thirties, but she looks younger. She gets herself to the track and figures out her setup on her own. She seems to have improved a lot this year over the last, and is also riding a 250 and a mini motard with the little kids in the mini races. Interestingly, I was seven seconds slower than Shandra at Buttonwillow, and only a second and a half slower than her at Vegas. Sure, the track is smaller, so laptime differentials are smaller too, but I think this was indicative of my confidence increasing yet again.
James wasn't pleased with the outcomes of his races, but admitted that he and the guys learned a lot that will help them for the next one. In Formula I Expert, he took second behind Pridmore with a 1:17.6, beating Michael Beck and Alessandro Assanti, WERA West's number 1 plate holder. In a later race he lost a tight battle with Assanti and took second, and took third in Heavyweight Superstock. I love watching him race. The minutes and hours before races he's like a bull at the rodeo before being let out of the pen, which is both amusing and sexy.
I feel good about my bike and am ready to start learning again, as opposed to just dealing with nagging little mental gremlins. Next race is Infineon with the AFM, not this weekend but the next. 2:00 here I come!
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