Coop's Corner: Trip Recap Part One

Friday, June 14, 2013

Trip Recap Part One - Road America

Shaking things up a bit year to year, I decided to ride over to the race track this year. Last year I trailered two bikes over, a method of travel that certainly has its advantages, a major one being able to take more provisions. In my case, provisions included cooking equipment, food, a stove, firewood (and fire-ring), a canopy, etc.

The vehicle of choice this time was my trusty TW200 Yamaha, a machine that has seen some rough service, most of that by the previous owner though I in no way baby it. I doubt very much Yamaha Corporate ever expected the fat-tired 200cc bike to spend as much time wide open on the highway with an adult of my mass. It seems to thrive on the 'love' I show it though.

Making a race weekend into a week long vacation meant that I'd start my ride east on Thursday morning. After a stop for breakfast in Alma, I headed south and took the park road through Perrot State Park just outside of Trempealeau, Wisconsin.

Mississippi backwaters and Trempealeau Mountain.

Minnesota bluffs in the distance, almost rain in the air but not quite.......

I rode through almost 80 miles of rain, then decided to leave Hwy 21 and take some quieter, roads that ran parallel.

Arriving in Fond du Lac, I checked into my MicroTel room and then went to the park in town that was preparing for the family weekend Walleye Festival. It's a beautiful park and wonderful festival; I've attended more than once on race weekends. Unfortunately it was Thursday and setup was underway, the festivities not starting until Friday afternoon.

Friday morning I was up early, riding the 30 miles to the race track to snag our campsite since they are available on a first-come basis. The Road America race course is 4.0 miles long, has many elevation changes and is more park-like than anyone that hasn't been there could imagine. The Road America track is just a tad over 300 miles from home.

Our campsite is in the Carousel (corners 9/10), an almost constant radius corner that makes just shy of 200 degrees of a circle. Friend Don from Iowa showed up not long after I arrived, pulling his RD400 along.

Once I got my tent setup and some luggage removed, I headed for the Pits to check out the machinery.

I thought this was one of the prettiest SR500's I've ever seen.

There are more women racing each and every year; this woman sang the National Anthem before Sunday's races began and did an exquisite job.

No PhotoShop alterations here.......

Mechanisms........

The Monkey (standing on left) and her driver adjusting something.....

There was a separate Thruxton Class.......and Ruckii were everywhere.

My favorite New York couple........a husband and wife team that have been doing this a Long Time.

Coming down one of the Straight's....corner 7 in the distance, corner 8 in the foreground.

Jeff arrived with his Honda CRF230 in tow, both of our bikes just perfect for race watching from the many vantage points around the track.

J.P. arrived from the Twin Cities on his SV650. The campsite is becoming a village.

Mike and Rodney arrive, the 450 Honda Police bike and a very nice XS650......I've become extremely tall, correcting my imperfect proportions. Rick didn't make it from Iowa; his mom's health kept him home at the last minute.

Friday evening winding down.

Practice resumed early Saturday morning, so we ventured back into the Pits to check out more machinery. Friend Chris was there with a couple of his racers, the rear end of this one caught my eye. You should know that this is about the last thing most racers see of Chris on the track. This RD400 and rider Moves very well.

Mike (Polizei) and Jeff checking out a very pretty SR500.

Swap Meet.......

A beautiful mix of parts combined into a lovely machine......

Like the sign says....."Not Made In England"......

Mr. Dave Roper's Very Fast Aermacchi......he's got an amazing history of racing vintage motorcycles. See more here

I love the patina of Dave's ramp......I'll bet it came over on the Mayflower.

The Sidecars getting ready to stage for their race.....spouses and/or significant others as teams.

Rod, Jeff, J.P., Mark, Tom watching a racer through the Carousel.

An Old One.......no, not J.P. the Harley Davidson WLA

Sunday morning.....

The Carousel Rest Rooms and Food Vendor......

Rob's Moto Guzzi Quota.....I'll see Rob at the Iowa Guzzi Rally in a few weeks.

Three Beemers from far away......

I thought this little 175 was set up nicely and provided inspiration for my Cafe Project. The young, about to be married couple had all sorts of info and tips for me.

Rod and Mike getting theirs loaded up.....

I messed up and lost the video that I had of this club's Drifting event. There were some cars that must have went through many tires, lots of gas and did I mention lots of tires?? It was incredible to watch and I'm disappointed that I don't have the video to prove it. There was smoke all afternoon on the go-cart track. Every make and description of car was there, from stock off the street to some very heavily modified and mean sounding Big V8's.

One of the Smoker's.........

Packing up, airing out the tent and ready to leave the racetrack. Sunday evening about 5:30.

4 comments:

Erik RJune 15, 2013 at 8:17 AM
Great collection of pictures. You have very long legs in one of them and I like the location of the smiley face on the side car rider.

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David DrouinJune 15, 2013 at 9:34 AM
Looks like it was a successful and entertaining event. I like the fact the sidecar riders are spouses or partners. There is something romantic about that.

Good for you to actually ride your bike to the event. I bet it was a good way to mentally prepare for the race.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)