SATURDAY, MAY 3, 2025 – Q2 and Race 1
Race day was finally here! Again, I had a pretty restless night, kept awake by that all too familiar combination of nerves and excitement! But that nervous energy also kept me wide awake and focused as Sam and I made our way from the hotel to the track. By the time we arrived, Carbon had put the finishing touches on the bike, and we were ready to take on the day.
Somewhere around a third of the Super Hooligans’ entrants failed to make the minimum cut-off on Friday and were eliminated from the remainder of the competition. Not only had I made it through, but I already had a fairly decent qualifying time that put me comfortably on the grid for race one. Now it was time to see if I could make any improvements and move my way up on the grid.
I was moving well in Q2, dropping tenths of a second off my best lap time from Friday. Every time I crossed the start/finish, I looked down at my lap timer, pleased with my progress. I had been out on track for a while, but still felt strong and like I had plenty of laps left in me. However, still very much a rookie on a MotoAmerica track, I wasn’t paying attention to the countdown clock, or even the start-finish flag that I would have seen if I wasn’t looking down at my lap timer instead of the flag station. I did notice, however, that there were no other bikes on course, and as I made my way through turn one, with every intention of putting in another hot lap, the corner lights started flashing red. This usually indicates a red flag, and I figured someone crashed and either got hurt, littered the track, or was in an impact zone, making it too dangerous to keep the track hot. I threw my left hand in the air, acknowledging the red flag and signaling to any riders that may have been behind me that I was slowing down slightly and making my way off the track. I finished the lap and made my way into an already crowded Parc Ferme – so crowded, in fact, that it occurred to me that I might be a bit late to the party.
As it turned out, the red flag was actually a signal to me to get the hell off the track because I had blown the checkered flag! One of the Marshals rushed up to us and said that either the rider or a representative was being ordered immediately to Race Control. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, a mix of embarrassment and dread. Carbon told me to stay put and that he would handle this, which was probably a good idea since I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
Several minutes later, Carbon returned to Parc Ferme and looked as though Race Control had put him through the ringer. Apparently, he got chewed out but begged for mercy, impressing upon the officials how much of a newbie I am, and how humbly apologetic I was. He managed to save us from a hefty fine, but we were on final warning, never to do that again, or any other infraction or infringement for that matter. What a relief!
With the drama of my stupid mistake behind us, we finally had time to review my performance in Q2. I had, in fact, improved my lap time and overall qualifying position. I knew I had even more to give, but I had still been working out some “yips” from the crash, wanting to make sure that I brought the bike home in one piece this time. I figured that little bit of caution may have cost me about a second, but I could make up for that if I got a good launch in the race later that afternoon. I had finished 16th overall in that session against the fastest racers and bikes in our class, and was feeling pretty good about my performance. Of course, there were a few racers who had such good times from Q1 that they didn’t bother wasting tires for this session, so I knew I would be a few spaces back from 16 once they released the final grid assignments.
We had a few hours to kill before my race, which would be the first on the schedule in the afternoon, at 12:30 PM sharp. The crew and I hung out, strolled around the paddock, saying hi to old friends and making new ones, even exploring the rest of the raceway complex and watching some of the other qualifying sessions from different viewpoints around the track.
The final grids were published, and I had earned a spot on P20. Not great, but not bad. The grid was reduced from the original 46 entrants to only 28 final competitors, leaving eight riders gridded behind me. Not last, but not exactly mid-pack, and I would still need five positions to earn my first-ever MotoAmerica championship point with a top 15 finish.
The time had finally come for my first-ever MotoAmerica Super Hooligan race! Carbon gave me the 15-minute call, so I started my preparations. By the time he gave me the five-minute call, my earplugs were in, and my helmet and gloves were on. At the three-minute mark, he told me to mount the bike, and I was happy to comply! Ignition on, started fired, and the bike roared to life. Front warmers off, front stand released. Rear warmers off, rear stand released. Bike in gear, pat on my back, and I rolled out to make my way to the track.
This was it. All my planning, preparation, practice, and training were about to be put to the test. I was consumed with anticipation and excitement, but also really trying to soak in the moment. All the racers lined up in the Hot Pit, waiting to be released for our sighting lap. Finally, the red waving flag was replaced with a green one, and we were off!
At this level of professional racing, it’s important to treat the sighting lap almost as if it were a hot race lap. Jockeying for position and testing traction at every apex, even making a few aggressively close passes just to try and intimidate the competition.
After a full circuit, I spotted Carbon waiting at my grid spot and made my way to him. He had a huge smile on his face. He told me, “Go get’em and have fun,” then gave me a fist bump before he made his way back to our Hot Pit.
In the Super Hooligans class, we use a quick start procedure rather than a professional start. The main difference is that we don’t sit on the grid with our bikes on stands and warmers, with an umbrella girl (or guy, for that matter), while the fastest and famous riders in front get interviewed. Instead, only moments after finishing the sighting lap, we’re released again for a warm-up lap.
Completing the final turn and cruising back to our grid spots, we all get into our starting position, elbows out, chest on the tank, head up. The Marshal at the back of the grid waves the green flag to let the Marshal at the front know that everybody has made it to their grid spot, cuing the Marshal in front with a waving red flag to get off the track so we can get this show on the road! He quickly exited the track, climbing a small ladder over the wall with his red flag, then lifted the ladder over the wall to join him on the other side.
Lights on! Lights out! Launch!
I dumped the clutch, and the bike lurched beneath me. I was instantly enveloped in a loud and wild frenzy to turn one. My grid spot had been in the middle of the row, so I worked my way to the left side of the track, putting me on the outside of T1. As all the other riders bunched up behind one another, trying to make their way to the apex, I scooted past several of them, gaining a few positions before we even made our way around the first turn.
Up the slight incline to turn two, slotting into position for the chicane, where it’s too tight to pass, so the further up the order I could get before entry, the better. I slotted myself into the pack as we all played follow-the-leader through the chicane. Released on the other end, it was back on the throttle into the fast-flowing left-hander before flicking it back to the right to head downhill through much lazier switchbacks that can practically be taken in a straight line. Then gently on the brakes to slow the bike down and settle the suspension before a hard left turn that sweeps back up another hill.
My rear tire was begging for grip, and before I even got the bike stood back up, the front tire lifted off as the MT roared with low-end torque. Accelerating through the uphill wheelie, I grab another gear to settle the front back down and float over the crest to turn six. I have no idea what position I’m in at this point, but I know I passed a few bikes at the start, and nobody had gotten by me since. Back down into third gear as I hit the cambered turn six, then a short burst up to the outside edge of the track and another downshift into second before bending the hard right turn into seven, where I crashed in Q1 the prior day. Safely through, I got decent drive onto the back straight and started clicking through the gears. This part of the track brings you from one of the slowest points to the fastest high-speed drag race on the circuit. With about 150 yards left on the straight, the track gently bends to the right and into a heavy downhill braking zone. I left my braking and downshifting as late as possible, then a hard flick to the left and another to the right. I power up the hill and over the crest beneath one of the bridges that crosses over the track, where my front end gets light and loose again. This is a blind turn that took a while to learn, but at this point, it was as if I had x-ray vision and could see through to the other side of the crest. I position my bike perfectly, and make my way down the steep hill into the super hard braking zone and through the 90° final turn that spit me back onto the front straight. A third of the way down the straight I crossed the start/finish line, completing my first MotoAmerica Super Hooligans competition lap!
I was in the zone and barely able to focus on anything except the next turn. At some point in the first couple of laps, Cory Alexander crashed the ARCH bike – yeah, the Keanu Reeves prototype air-cooled “undisclosed HP” hooligan bike – as the rest of us made our way through the carnage, heads still down, throttles wide open, never looking back. However, I guess Cory and his bike were in the crash zone, with enough debris littering the track that the decision was made to throw the red flag and clear the track to clean up the mess. Safety first!
I finished the lap and made my way back to the Pit, where I dismounted, had a drink of water, and tried to cool down while I waited for instructions from Carbon. Throughout the weekend, he had a walkie-talkie tuned to the live updates coming from MotoAmerica Race Control. He wore an earpiece so we didn’t all have to hear the often distracting and irrelevant chatter. There were times, however, when we were all having a conversation, and his eyes would instantly go blank as he raised his left hand to his ear to listen for announcements. We would all pause in total silence, waiting for our marching orders. He would then calmly, but firmly, provide us with key information or instructions.
The updates were coming in. It would be a five-lap restart, same grid positions. The routine started again. Five minutes. Earplugs in, helmet and gloves on. Three minutes. Mount the bike. Tire Warmers off, stands removed, bike on and in gear, pat on the back, and roll out!
After a cautious cruise through the Hot Pit, careful not to exceed the speed limit and risk a fine, I reached the Marshal with the green waving flag, and gently opened the throttle to begin another sighting lap. Again, I ripped through that lap at full speed, making sure to keep heat in my tires and pressure on the competition. After a full circuit, I slotted back into my grid position, caught by Carbon, who had been waiting for my arrival. I was still gridded at P20, but there was an empty grid spot where Cory had been, so I was now essentially in the 19th starting position. Another fist bump and a “You’ve got this,” and Carbon cleared the grid.
Several moments later, we were released for our warm-up lap. Same story – ripping through the lap like it counted, rolling through the final corner, then lining up back in our grid positions to wait for the red lights. Lights on. Lights out. Launch!
I didn’t get nearly as good a start this second time around, but I jockeyed for position to the left side of the track and was able to blow past several riders on the outside of T1. I held position and flicked the bike left to the apex of T2. We all bunched up again through the chicane, then full send through the next few corners.
Over the next several laps, I found myself caught up in an epic battle with two other riders. We swapped positions, daring each other to brake later into the slower corners of the track.
I was getting decent drive out of T7, and onto the back straight. I kept closing the gap to the riders in front of me for the first third of that stretch, but their bikes seemed to have more legs than mine, and they would win the drag race down into 10A, leaving me stuck in my position through the rest of the lap.
The three of us were somewhere mid-pack. We were battling hard, and I finally managed to out-brake one of them and gain a position, then set my sights on the other, determined to attempt another pass before it was too late.
About halfway through the final lap, I dove to the inside of T6, successfully positioning my bike for a block pass on the rider in front of me, and gained another position. I held him off through the next couple of turns and onto the back straight. I felt confident as I clicked through the gears, reaching top speed for my bike, somewhere in the mid-140s mph. As I reached the crest at the end of the straight, I leaned my bike right to head down the hill into the heavy braking zone. My bike felt strong everywhere on this track, except for top speed relative to the other bikes, and unfortunately, the rider I had passed two turns ago had a little bit more top end, and managed to get alongside me, as we both grabbed a fistful of brakes into T10. He was both brave and smart, taking the inside and leaving me with no way to keep my position. Turnabout is fair play! I tried to hang onto his back tire, giving myself the only chance I would have of taking back the position if I could manage to get the superior drive out of the final turn.
Everything went perfectly according to plan, and I gave myself a moment of drafting in his bubble out of the final turn, then slung my bike to the right with far better drive than him. I was making up the distance so quickly that for a moment I thought I might beat him to the line. But the checker comes up quick on the front straight, and I ran out of track, finishing less than 2/10 of a second behind him!
Disappointed that I couldn’t get the position back, I was still thrilled to have completed my first Super Hooligans MotoAmerica race of the season. I enjoyed the cool-down lap, waving to all the spectators, corner workers, and Marshals.
After completing the cooldown lap, I made my way to Parc Ferme, greeted by my team. They were all so thrilled and excited, with lots of high-fives and pats on the back. We took some time to bask in all the excitement, and I made my way over to some of my fellow competitors to congratulate them and share anecdotes about the highs and lows of our race.
My team and I spent the rest of the afternoon getting our Pit cleaned up and organized, and packing anything away that might get wet from the impending rain. Satisfied that everything was as situated as it was going to get, we all went our separate ways, agreeing to meet up at a popular restaurant I had made reservations to celebrate the end of a successful first race of our MotoAmerica season.
We reconvened at the restaurant, Local Station, a couple of hours later. The atmosphere was great and the vibe was fun. We took over the back room, and for the next couple of hours, we enjoyed fantastic food, exchanged our favorite stories of the day, shared some tales that sounded taller than a redwood, and filled the room with tons of gut-twisting laughter. As much fun and excitement as I had on track, I can honestly say dinner with these guys was definitely my favorite part of the weekend so far!