24 Hours on-Track

We arrived at the Palm Beach International Go-Kart Track at 5pm for my first experience on a closed course, with a motorcycle. Here I rode my friend’s Honda CRF150R which was set up for Minimoto, with 12” wheels...what a BLAST! Going as fast as you can before having to grab a handful of brakes, leaning as low as you dare and then back on throttle without high siding or going off track. With no worries of a truck dropping pebbles in the middle of your next turn, and no fear of riding over oil covered asphalt. As a street rider I was never introduced to such an environment. A limitless level of competition with Rider&Machine. It took no time to realize that the track is the greatest and safest place to feed my childhood diagnosed A.D.D (Adrenalin Driven Disorder).

I wiped out three times that night.  I was, of course, wearing all my gear which included: full leathers suit, gloves, boots, full face helmet, and back protector. Things you can easily forget to wear on the streets. The first two times I crashed were scary but harmless, but on my last run out I lost the rear coming out of a turn and the right bar end went straight into the back of my right knee where leathers offer little to no protection. I tried getting back on the bike and fell right over. I got my first taste of how quickly your machine can throw you off course. Despite this, I still managed to do a few more laps before it all came to an end. We packed up and headed home. I was in bed by 1 A.M. It took some time for my mind and body to relax and dilute the adrenaline flowing through my veins.

I woke up at 5:30 A.M. to my girlfriend kicking me in the back of my right knee (Ouch) because my alarm was going off. I put my leathers back on and threw my wounded leg over my Kawi to head down to Homestead Miami Speedway. It’s about an hour away, I was taking classes to obtain my CCS race license. Once I arrived I was asked why I was wearing my leathers in class before going out on the track. I told them, “I rode my bike here from home.” I was then asked, “What if you wrecked the bike?” I paused for a moment before I replied...“I didn’t think about that.” Once on the track, it was a wild experience to go from a 28.5hp minibike on a go-kart track, to a 120hp sportbike on a true speedway/road course. Grinning from ear to ear, power that would light up the rear and float the front, hitting speeds over 160mph, pushing the race-bred machine to its limits, revving the motor to 16,000rpm, gear after gear, lap after lap... I rode every session I could. I was hooked! I found my perfect drug.

I wished the day would never come to an end, but of course it did.  There I was, the last one to leave.  While I was standing still over my silent bike, I could still feel the vibration from the high revving engine running through my body;  the smell of different race fuels; the taste of sweat and stale air from the inside of my helmet; and the sound of the rear tire sliding into the next corner.  It was then I realized: I had just experienced 24 hours in this new utopia. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, turned the engine over and off I went, leaving the track at 5 P.M with a smile on my face and the greatest discovery; my passion!