Superbike School and the Reality Check
By: Ted Ford

Part I Superbike School

The May 5, 2003 California Superbike School at the Infineon raceway (Sears Point) in Sonoma was held the day after a weekend of AMA Superbike racing. Actually most of the races were pushed back to Sunday because of wet track conditions earlier in the weekend. I missed Mladin's victories and Duhamel's get off because I spent a perfectly lovely day in San Francisco with my wife and kids. I had made the potentially fatal error of planning a little vacation for myself during my wife's birthday. The unwritten agreement between me and my better half was that I could go to Keith Code's track school if we could have a nice family holiday and dinner at a swanky restaurant. Now there is a no brainer!

The Infineon is 45 minutes from downtown San Francisco if you are on the road at 6:00 am. The weather was cool, dry and sunny…perfect. Track day started with a 7:00 am registration, followed by group assignment and equipment selection. I opted to rent a 2003 Kawasaki ZX6R 636 for the cost of a set of track tires. Instead of lugging my leathers and my helmet on the airplane, I rented full protective gear which I found to be in good condition. Cost of level one track school, snacks, supersport bike, leathers, helmet, gloves and boots: $595.

I have ridden both my SV 650 and VFR 750 on the track and street. The Kawasaki 636 is a completely different animal. This inline four cylinder, fuel injected engine revs super smoothly and its sound is spine tingling. This bike is a track tool. The position is aggressive. It feels small and very light. The pull is terrific up to 9000 rpm, but for those of us used to a V-twin, there is an incredibly scary amount of REAL acceleration over 10,000 rpm. When you manage to find the composure to let this thing scream up to 13,000 rpm in third or fourth gear, you are very thankful for the great brakes to help bring things back into the sanity range. Keith Code's mechanic had the suspension set up perfectly for me. Riding this bike makes me regret already having a garage full of toys, cause...man, I have got to get me one of these things!

The school was set up in three groups rotating on track, in class room (the semi trailer with folding chairs), or milling around snacking and chatting. After introductions to the instructors, course control, mechanics, and logistics personnel, we were instructed on track rules and etiquette. Each lecture from Keith was followed by a structured track session where we would practice specific drills. In addition to Keith's talks and the track sessions, there was an instructor doing a parking lot steering drill.

Keith Code's talks are didactic question and answer explorations about what goes into the "art of cornering". The first session focuses on the importance of throttle control, corner entry speed, and suspension stabilization. The track drill puts us out on the race track using only fourth gear and no brakes. I learned that an inline four functions perfectly well in the lower rev ranges necessary to get around the twisty Infineon in fourth gear. Keeping my finger off the brakes forced me to find and maintain the speed approaching a turn that I plan to take when I enter the turn. I admit that on previous track sessions I simply braked hard right before a turn and often into turn. I really had no idea how fast I was going entering the turn because my speed was changing so much. Then of course, I roll on the throttle after the bike is leaned over. It was enlightening to have the luxury of experimenting on the track to discover what speed I am willing to take a turn at. This is much more easily and reliably done without braking right before the turn. In addition, I learned how the elevation changes along this track (there are hills with blind apices) affected my speed and my courage to charge into a turn that I couldn't see.

The second session focused on turn entry points. Where do you initiate a turn? Keith pointed out that many of us look into the turn (as we were trained in motorcycle safety courses) as we approach the turn. Looking at the apex of the turn makes you steer towards it too early. That early steering input is not the line you want to take, assuming you are trying to "straighten out the turn" to take it fast. It forces you to correct your line after the apex in order to finish the turn. I confess that I am guilty of this. I have also been inconsistent with the point on the track from which I initiated a turn. I was probably too focused on the white knuckle deceleration I practiced in the past. Keith Code's people put big X's out on the pavement at the turn-in point for every turn. I was surprised at how deep into the turn the entry point was. The instructors would tell you to follow them through the course and they would point down at the turn-in point "right here". We were to take the course in third and fourth gear and no brakes. At first it seemed a little silly, but having an exact turn in point really educates you on letting the bike take a line. At least you have a defined starting point. Subsequent experimentation with the lean angle is what will define the line taken through a particular turn. Change one thing at a time to learn the effect of a particular input. In the first track session I experimented with speed of entry. The second session I experimented with varying the lean angle for a fixed turn in point. In addition, the on track instruction was outstanding. During each track session, two instructors would find me, lead me through an exercise, observe, and critique my technique. After each session the instructors would talk me through what they observed and what I learned as well as what I need to work on.

During the lunch break it appeared that some racers and some of the support staff went out for some laps. I watched with interest as two GSXR 1000 race bikes were battling each other as they roared out of the final turn and wheelied onto the straight away. These two were followed by a Yamaha R1 who seemed to be unable to bridge the gap, and finally an Aprillia 250 two stroke buzzed by like a mosquito following the race horses. On each subsequent lap, I noticed the Aprilia was gaining ground on the liter bikes. After five or six more laps the mosquito was right behind the big bikes and they were really racing hard. Finally I saw the Aprilia take an inside line on the final turn to overtake the big Suzuki. The GSXR rider sat up as he entered the straight and everyone watching started screaming. It was sweet! The Infineon is certainly a track where light, agile, quick turning bikes are rewarded. I skipped lunch because I know I get sleepy in the afternoon while I am digesting. I remember at Reg Pridmore's CLASS school, he was able to accurately predict the number of people who would crash that day. He also added that most crashes happen at three points of the day, the initial laps (cold tires and unfamiliarity), just after lunch (sleepy), and the final laps (trying to get in that one last hot lap). I snack often, and avoid a heavy feed on track days. Keith Code's school also supports the use of potassium salt supplements to improve the performance deterioration that occurs from dehydration.

The next session focused upon quick turning, also known as the "flick". We were encouraged to quickly flick the bike into a turn at the turn in point by using a hard pressure on the bars. Once the bike was leaned over you relax the pressure on the bars. We took the track using two gears and light braking. This third session was a real break through for me. I found myself sitting farther back in the seat with my torso pressed on the gas tank. My forearms were horizontal as was my steering input into the bars. I could sight the turn-in points at speed and aggressively flick into a turn, and then relax my arms. Any further fine tuning was accomplished with torso and leg input. In this track session my speed and control seemed to improve considerably. I found myself lapping most of the people in my group despite staggered starts. My instructors seemed to work harder to get past me. When they did, the only hand signal they offered was a big thumbs up! Afterwards, my instructor exclaimed, "Dude you were railing!"

Have you ever noticed that you are pushing hard on both clip-ons while you are leaned over in mid turn? This energy sapping, lack of confidence in the bike's ability to hold its own line was the final dragon to slay to improve basic turn skills. The fourth session was about relaxing on the bike and letting the expensive machine do the work of turning, shock absorption, and stabilizing that it was designed to do. This track session allowed three gears and light braking. I rode very hard this session and did a lot of passing. I was consistent in my ability to pick a turn in point, flick the bike into a lean angle, and roll on the throttle while relaxing behind the controls of the bike. I found that I could take almost any line I wanted to now, passing on the inside or outside of a turn. The speed was fantastic. The motorcycle was flawless and communicative. The high rev experience is addictive. I used more than light braking however. I felt very confident, very relaxed. On one occasion I came up behind one of my classmates, who must have been entering the turn a little hotter than he wanted to, because he slowed up pretty hard. I got on the brakes and lifted the rear wheel into the air, but then powered around him on the inside of the turn. The sharp chicane was also a lot more fun now that I could set up my entry speed and turn in point, aggressively flick the bike and get on the gas. I was a different rider from the morning sessions, and the instructors seemed to agree. One managed to stay in front of me on the last lap of the day, and he was all grins when I greeted him in the pit area. I missed the last session of the day because I had to get back to my family for my wife's birthday dinner. I didn't have any regrets.

I didn't expect anything dramatic. The Keith Code lectures were not a rational discourse on physics and engineering (I am an engineer). I did what I was told. I listened to the constructive criticism that my instructors gave me. I tried to apply the concepts that they taught me, and something wonderful happened. I don't understand the process, but I agree that cornering is an art. I feel like I am a better artist than I was.

Part II Reality Check

I flew to Portland the next day. I rode my motorcycle the three hours over the mountains from the airport to my home. I tried to adjust myself to my old VFR with the touring bags. I adjusted to traffic, lower speeds, uneven pavement, cold rain, and a hundred other distractions and dangers on the street. On the following day, I began to deal with bills, deadlines, some legal issues, some business issues, and a screw up of a delivery from the post office. My good mood from my vacation which started with surfing in Ventura and ended with a track day in Sonoma, rapidly deteriorated. I hopped on my trusty SV650 to run into town to pick up a package from the post office. I always ride in full protective gear, even for errands. So after standing in line for half an hour in my gear, I finally got things straightened out and headed for home. I indulged in a bit of triple digit fun and aggressive lean angles on the country roads around my home. As I approached the turn off that is notorious for being gravel strewn and at an acute angle, I slowed way down and turned in early to straighten out the corner some. I cut the corner by easing across my road's left lane, then the left lane of the turn off road and into the right lane when my front wheel suddenly washed out on some gravel. The bike went down instantly and came down hard on my leg. It felt like my foot was being folded in half at the forefoot towards my shin. I pulled my leg out from under the bike, wincing in pain. I was able to stand up in severe pain and pick up the SV 650. The left peg, rearset and shifter was hanging by the linkage rod. I unscrewed the damaged assembly and tossed it in my tank bag. I remounted the bike and rode it another 2 miles home in second gear. I struggled to hold my damaged left foot up on the engine cover, cursing, crying, and gritting it out.

At home I took off my gear, grabbed a bag of frozen corn to ice the foot, popped some Tylenol and Vioxx, and called my orthopedic surgeon friend, who is also my track day buddy. He saw me in his office within an hour. I managed to fracture three metatarsal bones across my foot. I probably did fold it in half! Although the boot I was wearing (a Sidi road boot without the vertebra external skeleton) protected me from any road rash, they did not prevent any abnormal flexion of the ankle or forefoot. I am going to invest in the Oxtar racing boots that claim to have ankle and metatarsal control. I have to pick up some parts on E-bay to repair the SV 650. Since my doctor is going to be at the track day I am scheduled to do at the end of the month, I can't cheat and ride with a broken foot (probably not a good idea regardless).

That leaves me with some couch time to figure out what I did wrong. First and foremost…THE STREET IS NOT THE TRACK. I know this, but I found so much confidence this week that it clouded my judgment. Secondly, I broke my rule about not riding when I am feeling rushed, upset or angry. Most of us are sensible enough to not ride after drinking, but how many of us like to ride as an antidote to being pissed off about something? Adverse emotions cloud judgment, so clear your head before you get on the bike. I am lucky I made it home creeping along after the accident. There is one thing I learned on the track that could have helped me. If I had been more aggressive on the brakes and then initiated a deeper, sharper turn on the clean pavement, I might have completed the turn while crossing over the oncoming traffic lane prior to getting onto the gravel strewn turn off road. From now on I promise to slow, then commit to an aggressive quick flick turn at the end of the straight away. I will always ride at a walking pace when turning on gravel. The street is a dangerous place. The track is super fun. A sportbike ridden on the track is a sport. A sportbike ridden on the street is a responsibility.