Murphy Was A Motorcycle Racer

After my first ever race weekend I was hoping to write about the race experience- the adrenaline coursing through my veins just as the green flag drops, the rush as we go through turn 1 and up the hill into turn 2 on the first lap, the passes for position and the inevitable success or failure at the end. What kind of start would I get? How much would my inexperience at Sears Point affect my riding? Would the red mist push me to the edge or over it?

Instead, this post is about people. Old friends and new ones who bent over backwards and relentlessly worked for 3 days to get me out on track and be able to race. Continue reading