Finding the Feeling

What a difference a week makes. Last weekend’s results made the 500 mile drive home from Gillette especially long. A DNF and a fifth didn’t fit too well with our expectations, but somewhere in the main last week I got the feeling. I went into the corner, rolled off the throttle and the car just turned and accelerated like the corner didn’t exist. That is the feeling a driver dreams about all winter. It is the feeling that keeps you entertained while you push yourself back and to the right in the stadium seat during that boring play your friend was in. It is the feeling that means you are half flying, half driving, and getting 100% of your car. It is the feeling of knowing that you are fully alive and at your best and no matter how long you live you will remember that moment like a full moon on a starry night. It is that feeling which had me excited and nervous for the races this weekend in Belgrade and Billings.

As we rolled into Belgrade, my nerves jumped up in my throat and stayed there till I crossed the checks. I haven’t been that nervous since my first few races in a mini-sprint. For some reason I rarely get that anxious anymore. Even when our J&J chassis was glued to the track for hotlaps it didn’t calm me down. It actually made things worse because often when you are fast in hotlaps you can miss the setup for the heat race. I was like a junkie looking for a fix. I had to find “the feeling.” But after the first lap of the heat race, when I went around the outside of Tyler Gable, I knew we were right. The ten laps flew by and we won without a challenge. This gave us the outside pole for the dash. The outside is generally a bad place to start at Gallatin Speedway and the 7 car on the inside of us got a good jump, but I pulled under him down the backstretch and thought I had the lead, until I saw the 22 of Jerry Brey go sliding past in three. Coming around turn one-two I got another great run on the bottom and took the lead onto the backstetch. Entering three I stayed very low and pulled away for the win. Now my nerves were really tight. We won the heat and the dash, how far should we change for the main. After watching the modified main I saw that the bottom was the place to be, so we put in some lower gears and more stagger to be able to hug the inside and get a good run off the corners. This is usually the opposite way to go for a main, but it seemed that getting off the corners was going to be everything. After getting the lead on the initial start for the main I knew things were going good when my crew gave me “big lead” signals after only a couple laps. At lap ten I saw the lapped traffic ahead and I slowed down some hoping not to catch them until the very end of the race. I knew on an open track I would be fine, but I couldn’t delay the inevitable and caught the lappers too quick. Working the bottom I got by four or five of them, but soon found myself trapped between two cars that were battling. I ran under them, into them and all around them but couldn’t pass. So I made the decision just to stick low and if anyone went around the outside I was through. At the checkereds the Oj car made a run around the outside but we squeaked out the win: a clean sweep. YES!!! It was even better that one of our main sponsors Ted Kronebusch of Kronebusch Electric was there and we were all wearing our Simpson gear with his name on it. That makes three mains in a row at Belgrade, the last two have been clean sweeps. I’m starting to love that place.

Moving on to Billings I was much more relaxed. The monkey was off our back. Plus we found a problem that was costing us big horsepower. All year long we couldn’t get the car to turn well and couldn’t figure out why. After we finished our maintenance in Bozeman Saturday morning we started the car and it just didn’t idle right. Now, idle settings don’t just change unless something is wrong so we started looking. We found a linkage had slipped on the injection and the engine was running too rich on the barrel valve. This would explain why the oil has been milkey all year and the car wouldn’t turn. I figure it cost us about 40-50 hp, but we had still won with it by just adjusting the car to make it work. But on the track in Billings it was a completely different animal now that it was leaned down. What a rocket-ship!! We started on the pole of the heat and just ran away and hid. That Ostrich engine is amazing. With the dash cancelled due to poor track management, we were to start on the inside front row of the main. On the outside was Michelle Dodge who had just won her first ever sprint car heat race. As soon as we started the parade lap she starts crowding me down the track into the mud. It was so bad that on the three wide salute to the fans I’m going around the corner sideways to stop from hitting her while I slip and slide through the mud. Sure enough, she keeps pushing me and we bang wheels going into turn one and all the way down the back stretch before the start. Then, in turn three she just turns all the way down the track and pulls right in front of me as the flag man lazily throws the green in a way that you know will be called back. After two tries to get a start off they send us back a row. I still don’t know what she was doing. I understand pushing someone into the mud to get a jump on them, but pushing them into the infield tires is another matter. So we start the race in third with the 7 of Paxton Lambrect on the pole and the 22 of Jerry Brey outside. Brey gets the lead on the start, with Lambrect and me following closely. The track was wicked fast since they had watered just before the main. Fast and smooth was the name of the game and I was able to get by Paxton for second when he got a little too aggressive getting into the corner and lost his momentum. The track was drying fast since it was hard as concrete and the water was only on the surface. As I closed in on Brey the yellow flew for a spun car; you guessed it: Michelle Dodge. On the restart I gave Brey a big slider in turn one and he practically drove off the top of the track to go back around me on the backstretch. For the next three laps we repeated the dance of big slide job until I had him convinced that the bottom was faster. Entering turn one he went low and I railed around him on the outside and promptly pulled away four or five car lengths a lap. Our car was a rocketship, but the track dried so quick that it was getting really loose with ten laps to go. Thankfully everyone was in the same boat with lap times falling off nearly two seconds over the course of the 25 lap main. The last few laps I could still see the “big lead” signal coming from the pits and I was just trying to keep as much momentum as possible. The checkereds were a welcome sight. Another clean sweep.

It’s not very often that you win every race you are in over a two race weekend at two very different tracks. One race won right against the inside of the track, the other won running high and wide on the cushion. It was a great weekend. We had decided to camp at the track and Dad went straight to bed since he had been sick all weekend. I roamed from trailer to trailer looking to celebrate. Nights like these you find yourself with a beverage in hand and one in every pocket as people keep buying you celebratory drinks. At about 2:30 Paxton decides that Phil Deitz and I need to go with him and his friends Jaime and Mike to race four wheelers at Jay Burns house. Paxton is always looking for ways to have fun and to beat Phil and I. So we go out to Huntley to find the party in high gear at Burn’s. Jay is running around with a hat that makes him look like a pirate or drunk farmer, I’m not sure which. I can tell he’s had a few when he kisses me on the check shortly after arriving. Jay has raced since the 90’s and it was him that I beat for my first feature win in 1998 at Belgrade. Somehow I won his respect that night and we’ve been close ever since. He’s a great guy and it was fun to look at all his pictures in his shop and to sign his wall of fame. Meanwhile Paxton can only get one four wheeler to run and Mike decides to tie a kiddie’s plastic wagon on the back. Soon enough the game is to see who can come up the gravel driveway fast enough to turn on the concrete sharp enough to send the wagon and its rider sliding into barrels of methanol or even into the cherry-picker motor stand. That motor stand did a good job cutting Mike’s pants off before they got the other four wheeler started. Then the races began. One lap is from the concrete down the gravel to the pavement and back with cars and corners in between to make it more interesting in the dark. It was great fun, but I got bumped into the irrigation ditch and while I was trying to make up my ½ lap deficit on the driveway’s blind corner Mike and I got into a head on collision at about 30 mph. No serious damage though.

Meanwhile I hear this yelling from across the field. “Jay, your neighbor is yelling at you.” “So?” It wasn’t long until the cops showed up and offered to take Jay in if we didn’t stop, and the party was over. As we got back to the truck at the track the sun was coming up. It was a great weekend. But as a racer, I know you have to celebrate while you can, because next weekend someone else could be the victor and you could go back to being one of the “also-rans.”

Normal Saturday

The races rained out this weekend in Billings, so I’m left being a “normal” guyfor the weekend. No Smokin’ Joe appearance; just Joe.  The guy who needs to pack up his belongings tomove to Missoula, Montana on Monday. The guy who needs to do hislaundry and clean out the fridge. The guy who over fertilized his lawn and,even though he mowed it last week, now needs to rent a hay mower to knock itdown. Weekends at home in the summer are a hard thing for me to get used to.What do normal people do?

So with all these things poking priorities into my mind likeneedles in a voodoo doll I decide to get out my motorcycle. Ah, “Big Black,” my1979 Yamaha 750 Special. She’s a year younger than me, but she doesn’t let meboss her around. Big Black has been sitting in the garage for about two years becauseracing has come first. Like a neglected child she decides to be unruly. Shejust wants some attention. Fuel pours out of her and she sits idling like atractor on its death march. Poor girl. I don’t mind. I’m a sucker for prettygirls and a pouty look.

Now the day is just about done. Dinner is sounding good butI finally have Big Black ready to ride. “Should I start the chicken on theBBQ?” says Missy as I strap on my best torn jeans, boots and leather jacket.“Yeah, sure. I won’t be long,” I reply in a way that tells her my mind isalready absent. Now, out on the street I reach over and hit the start button.RRRRRRRR. Oh, yeah. Big Black is back in town. She’s a triple. There’s a lot offour cylinder and two cylinder bikes out there, but when you hear a triple youknow it. Eternally caught between a roar and a purr, Big Black makes the soundof a lover’s raspy cry in the heat of passion. Five blocks later we hitseventy-five on the incline heading into the foothills. Sunshine, wind, whitepuffy clouds, black twisting asphalt, the roar of her engine, the roar of myheart, I can’t get enough. Feeling the groove I pass a few other bikers givingthe underhand wave which shows proper respect to the two-wheeled brotherhood.Heck, I even shoot the kid on the scooter some props. Twenty miles later Icrest a hill and stop to look at the view. Green foothills surround me as Ilook down on all the people in their sub-divisions. I bet that chicken is donenow. I don’t want to go back. A date with a two-wheeled hottie is one thing,but dinner is another. I turn home. So this is what normal people do onSaturday afternoon.

Recovery

 Things are moving fast. I flat wore myself out this weekend. Driving late into Montana from Idaho (2am), racing late Friday night (2am), sponsor autograph session + car preparation and late racing Saturday (3AM) before driving home Sunday. I was so busy I must not have ate enough because I lost 3 pounds over the weekend. I think I might have taken a little hit because I have felt like a cold is coming on for the last few days. But that didn't stop me from running in the foothills Monday night and lifting weights yesterday. My preparation for the season paid off as I never got tired or winded during racing. Plus I can't let go of that elusive 165lbs goal. . Only three more pounds.

This weekend was full of drama. Even though I went into it trying to focus on my own stuff, I got caught up in the friendly rivaly with the 39c car right away. We both started in the back of a stacked heat race and after working my way to second I was trapped behind a lapped car. There was a restart when Jason Solwold wheeled Brock Lemely, destroying Lemely's brand new J&J chassis. On the restart I went under the lapper and as I slid high off turn two I see Solwold coming under both cars wheeling me at the same place he had just sent Brock over the backstretch wall. I jammed the brakes and he only got my left front wheel, bending the new Keizer rim. I guess that is what being a professional is all about, you don't give a crap about anything but results, even if it is just for a position in a heat race and it cost a couple amateurs some hard earned equipment. The pass made me so mad I could barely control myself, but I gathered it up after a little cool off in the pits. We ended up having an uneventful main event with a sixth place car which ended up third after three cars dropped out in front of us.

Saturday started as mediocre as Friday. In our heat race the car picked up a big vibration and I could swear the motor wasn't running right. It was painful to watch car after car drive by us on the straightaways when early in the race we were closing on the leader. We looked the car over and found one of the brakes to be very hot, so we took it off thinking it was hanging up. Then we found some large mud clumps in the wheels which we figured caused the vibration I was feeling. But when it came time for the main event I was the first guy onto the track just in case we hadn't found the problem. We hadn't. I pulled back into the pits. As I rolled to a stop one of the crew guys spotted a spark plug making sparks on the outside of the engine. Something in the heat race must have cracked it and it was arcing in a strange way. We never would have found it had it not been dark. So the guys changed it and I pushed off again, being forced to start dead last because of my stop. But at least the engine was running right, but we only had two brakes on the car which cost us some speed on the slickening track.

On the initial start I took a flying run on the outside and by the back stretch had went from 18th to 7th, but a yellow flag caused me to go back. I figured, well there that goes, surely someone saw me go by on the outside and they will go up there now which will block my way. But when I got to the first turn no one was there and this time I got to sixth before the yellow sent me back. The third and fourth time I got similar results. Finally there was a red. The crew came out and told me they heard at least four crews telling their driver to get up top because, "Ramaker is coming up high and really making it work!" At this point we had burned 6 gallons of methanol and never got in a lap. But the track was drying rapidly and my high line was getting more and more hairly loose. We turned some weight and changed a shock to try to compensate but I could see we were set up too loose to last the whole main. Finally the race got started on the 6th or seventh try and I found myself in 5th after the first lap. Eventually I worked my way to third having great battles with the 37 of Kirkland and the 12 of Casey Adams to get the position. Going under the white flag it was Solwold, Lemely (in a XXX chassis the crew had spent all night building), me and Daniel Huson's #73 charging hard as she had just passed Adams. On the last corner I altered my line on entry because I could see Brock Lemely's #4 was slowing. As I went high the 73 charged under me. I didn't give her any extra room and we banged nerf bars as we both closed on the 4 car. With the lapped car of Stuart Selby on the outside of the #4, Daniel turned her car low to pass at the line and I stood on the gas going high to split Lemely and Selby. At the line we were four wide and it took two hours for the official finishing order to be determined via video and photos. I was sure I got second because Daniel had to turn down the track which cost her some momentum. But her dad disagreed. Her mom even told officials that I had said she beat me. I was standing in the pits signing autographs when I heard an official's radio blare out: "The video shows the finishing order to be Ramaker, Lemely, Huson." Then another voice comes on, "Ramaker has said that Huson beat him so that can't be right." "WHAT? I never said that!" I think the confusion might have come from me saying that Daniel had me coming off turn four, but definately not at the line. So I chase down the Big Sky Sprint Director to tell him the truth. When they finally announced the official order at the payout window I guess Husons felt shorted and they let off some steam at the officials, and on me. Daniel's dad, Marc, pointed at me as they stomped off and said, "You guys know who won." I guess it is just one of those instances where people see what they want to see because it is too close to tell otherwise. Even most of the people in the crowd had no idea who got second.

This picture was taken from the video with Huson on the inside, Lemely is the yellow car next to her. I am the yellow car in the middle and right under the flag stand is the white car of Stuart Selby's #33 on the outside.

Basically, the whole weekend we were way too loose without good forward bite. The car just always wanted to kick the rear end out. It fooled us because we were using a standard setup which has given us a lot of success at Great Falls. Somehow we all forgot about some of the subtle differences we have built in to this chassis and halfway home as I crossed into Idaho it finally dawned on me. The way we have the chassis built there is no way our standard setup would work. We had about two inches too much stagger. But we are going to change things for this weekend in Billings and we should be way faster. At the payout window Richard (the owner of Jason Solwold's #39) walked by and I congratulated him on his win. I said something like, "maybe next time we will have something for you guys." He replied that I could be winning if I just had stayed in his car and that I will never beat him with the equipment I have. We each favor different engine builders and chassis builders so I wasn't surprized. I was insulted at first, but when I thought about it I realized that the #39 is in trouble. Their stuff is running right and they are a little faster than us. But our stuff is not even close to its potential and we have so many experiemental pieces on our car that once we get things right we will be way faster. This might be just wishful thinking, but it makes me excited for the next time we run into those guys. You can't be a racer without optimism and the ability to see your future as bright, and I am a racer. But maybe I am just seeing things the way I want to see them. :)

110%

Not my words, but I claim them

Have you ever thought of something and before you could market it you found out that someone else already has created it. That's what my blog is this week. I've been sweating life, sweating bills, sweating things that do not deserve an ounce of my sweat. Missy and I were talking last night. We found ourselves wondering what real life is. The answer we came up with: real life is not spent at work. Real life is the rest of your non-sleeping hours. The evenings and weekends are not designed for you to rest up so you can be better at work. Work is designed so that you can enjoy your evenings and weekends without worrying about money. But it seems that most people have that backwards. Most people get so focused on their job that everything else takes second place. At work they stress themselves out, burn themselves out, and mold themselves to a performance mentality so that someone way down the line will have a nice computer program, or so that someone will buy a product that they are killing themselves at some other job to get. Why do we let ourselves get so worked up over a boss who demands that we dance to the silly tune of "my job is my life, the rest is just here for a distraction." So, with this in my mind, today I read a blog at an exercise site I use to motivate myself. The blog is unabashedly a double barrell middle finger to middle American suburban life, but it hit paydirt within me. So just go here if you want to read it:

http://www.gymjones.com/knowledge.php?id=15