What’s it like to competition a motorcycle during 140 mph? Ride along and see – The Huntsville Times
June 21, 2014 - box office
BIRMINGHAM, Alabama – What do we do when someone gives we a event to float a racetrack during Barber Motorsports Park during 140 miles per hour?
If you’re me, your initial instinct is to run divided screaming. In a conflicting direction. Very quickly.
I’ve always felt about quick vehicles many like we feel about airplanes. we don’t mind drifting in a plane, though I’m not going to burst out of a ideally good one. And I’d expostulate a motorcycle to a grocery store, though I’m not going to play myself around a racetrack on one.
But afterwards we comprehend what an event this competence be.
What does it indeed feel like to competition motorcycles around a twists and turns of a lane (which many riders contend is their favorite and many severe on a circuit)? I’ve created about copiousness of races (both two- and four-wheeled), though we don’t unequivocally know how it feels to be in one of those races.
So, we checked my gut, deliberate my mental bucket list, put on a dauntless face and said, “Let’s do this.”
Along with other members of a media, we supposed a plea of roving on a two-up Superbike.
I strapped on leather Alpinestars boots and suit, afterwards combined a behind pad, gloves and an Arai helmet.
Looking unequivocally snazzy and official, we put my life in a hands of AMA Pro SuperBike champion Chris Ulrich. A professsional racer given 1999, Ulrich recently finished third in a GEICO Motorcycle Superbike Shootout Championship finale. He was once clocked during 196 mph in a breeze during Daytona.
My ride? A Honda CBR1000RR Superbike, only like a ones raced in this weekend’s Triumph SuperBike races during Barber. (Only cave had a newcomer seat, footpegs and squeeze handle–thank goodness!–added to it.)
The instructions we generally took to heart? “Remember to breathe and have finish faith in your driver’s ability.”
Racing around a track, a prohibited breeze in my face and back, we had to indeed remind myself to breathe a few times.
I had to breathe, “hold on tightly, and don’t let go,” and urge a small bit too.
I also schooled that: a straightaway is a killer, as a g-forces unequivocally flog in; a pointy turns make we locate your exhale and watch your knees (Chris’ dragged a ground; cave were safely a few inches above his); a feverishness of Jun is exuberantly magnified in leather and on asphalt; a speed (competitors in this weekend’s competition will strike a 150-160 mph mark, while 140 mph is a limit on these two-ups) is intense; a adrenaline and disturb are real.
The terrifying, nonetheless exhilarating, knowledge gave me a glance of what these racers knowledge each time they’re on a track, and we gained a whole new turn of honour for them.
I’m blissful we didn’t run divided from this opportunity.
Because, cliche as it might sound, it unequivocally was utterly a ride.