"10 seconds faster..."
"What?"
"You went 10 seconds faster on my bike than you did on your own."
That's what an acquaintance told me after he let me ride around on his (hopped up 400) one day at Thunderhill. I hadn't been out much last season and I was on a borrowed bike--taking it easy, I thought. Still, 10 seconds. 10 freaking seconds. And it seemed sooooo natural, so effortless, and I was on a stranger's bike for the first time.
I was convinced. As much as I liked bombin' around on the little FZR400 that bike was never going to fit me. I'd been struggling for a few years to get it running right and looking good. It was finally there. The only thing holding me back was me.
The bike was exhausting to ride, forcing me into uncomfortable positions because of its length. I'd never really thought about it's size, assuming that a small displacement bike automatically translated into shorter ergonomic numbers. Someone told me once that they'd never seen an FZR400 look big until they saw me on it. Never sank in... (I'll be damned if I can find the photos I thought I bought) Here's what it started out as.
So I finally caved. I sold the little FZR400 this past winter after much blood, sweat and tears (caused from inhaling paint fumes.) I didn't know what I was moving onto, and wasn't even sure I was going to do track anymore. I'd had a string of bad luck when it came to my trackdays getting interfered with last season covering the gamut from job interviews, job loss, a weird stomach bug... Bye, bye little guy. I sent it off to a guy in Southern California who needed to be bribed to take the tons of parts I had for it--and he didn't even care that he'd forgotten the manual.
About a month after I'd unloaded the Yamaha and had cleaned out the garage I got the itch to have another bike. The garage was looking a little too empty. It was too organized. There was actually space to move around. This simply wouldn't do.
I walked into Desmoto thinking I was there to get an oil filter. I casually asked if they anything track-worthy sitting in a heap in the back. And they did...the thing that looks least like a bike among all the bikes was it. A 748.
My dream bike. I've always loved the way it looked. I know...everyone says that the 916 is sexier, the 749 was a practical improvement, but the 748 is a miniature Italian torture rack on wheels. It's size, or lack thereof, brings many men to their breaking point. But for me, that sounds like it might actually come close to fitting my scrawny little frame. And it's another finicky piece of Italian machinery. I was in love. Walked in going for a $5 part...came back the next day with a check for something a bit more.
The bike had had some motor freshening the year prior by the previous owner, a local AFM'er, which included adding a few more cc's. He'd done a couple of races on it and had had a not-so-small get off that broke his shoulder and busted the bike up pretty badly too. Basically I had a new motor, a few nice aftermarket bits a straight frame and a little reassembly to do. Perfect. I gathered up all the pieces and brought the new machine home. I found a seat in amongst all the parts so that I could ride it up my driveway and parked it.
Work has been hammering my free time as I try to start up a little architectural practice of my own. The yard needed work. The house needed cleaning. Rides needed to be ridden...excuses, excuses. And then Spidey tipped me off about a free ladies trackday. I'd been pretty happy just looking at my new, half-assembled toy in the garage, but now I might actually have a reason to ride it. Signed up for the trackday. Yippee! But what had I done? Oh dear lord... I now had a deadline to get this thing fixed up.
I needed to order a few things like a windscreen, grips, handle bar, left fairing, misc., etc... the parts weren't even all there, the fasteners missing, the plastics were too shattered to go back on the bike. The remaining existing pieces needed a little T.L.C. to be sure. A little fiberglass repair, some bondo, and a lot of sanding was in order if I was going to put this back together and get it painted. (I learned a few years ago that the guys at tech will hassle you a bit more if your bike is held together with Sharkskinz stickers and zip ties than if you just toss a little paint on it.--I know you're just doing your job, guys--I'd hassle me too.) I had an idea to strip the tank down to bare metal. Started out red...
Now...not so much.
I've been sanding and prepping on and off for a few weekends now with Tigre. Hopefully I won't be blowing pink stuff into my Kleenexes much longer... (j/k I wear a respirator.) More photos to come.
Deadline: Oct. 11. <
chews nails>
