SPECIAL STORIES
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SPECIAL STORIES |
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Team FBR in the USA - October 2006
It may seem un-related but my story starts in May 2006 at Santa Pod Raceway, Bedfordshire, England. I had just turned up for the weekend along with a bunch of other Triple Nuts. The guy standing next to Rick (Brett) was introduced to me as Bill Baxter. I had seen many posts on the American Triples site mentioning his name so I had heard of him but had no idea of what he looked like. He politely shook my hand and then proceeded the help Rick prepare his bike. The following morning I was up quite early and sat at a bench with my brother eating breakfast when Bill came other and sat with us. We chatted about drag racing and tuning the H2 motors and he gave me lots of good tips. Over the following months Bill & I exchanged many emails and then a few phone calls regarding tuning stuff. I was trying to figure out how a slider clutch worked and Bill mentioned that he had one I could copy – (I have access to a machine shop) It was going to cost a lot to airmail it to me and then I would have to airmail it back and I still needed some of the finer details explained to me.
Bill:
It would be so much easier if you where here so I could show you how all
this works Day 1The 18th October eventually came and I left Gatwick for Dallas Fort Worth in Texas - not totally sure of what I had done. Here I was, travelling thousands of miles to stay with a man who I barely knew, apart from many emails and a few phone calls and a very brief meeting at Santa Pod. Perhaps he was being polite and didn’t really want me to stay at his family’s home. We have all made wildly generous offers to people, not expecting for a second that they will actually take you up on it, especially when I was so far away… After what was a bummer of a flight where I hardly got any sleep, a smiley Bill met me at the Arrivals Lounge. I was taken back to his house where I eventually got to meet the rest of his family. They kept turning up during the evening until the kitchen resembled a scene from the Walton’s. Karen had served up a fantastic meal and Bill brought out different cold beers for me to sample. If this was a ploy to put me off coming again it was not working. I had been awake for twenty-four hours, had just eaten a huge meal and drank beer - I needed sleep!
Bill:
Hey Chris, you look kinda sleepy - do you want to want to crash out?
Day 2Breakfast was served – pancakes & syrup – my favourite!! If I recall correctly, I opted to be dropped at a local Mall while Bill attended work for a few hours. We then spent the rest of the day in Bill’s shop. In England this would be called a garage. It is still the same thing – a place of refuge for men to hide in. Kawasaki H2 parts adorn the walls, shelves and anywhere else they can be stuffed. I was in H2 Heaven!! Just when I thought it could not get any better, it turns out that Bill has two shops - double heaven!!! This one was home to his other bikes, again, shared with many spares and interesting tuning parts. Most of the evening/ night was spent working on Bill’s bike, watching racing on the TV, drinking lots of water and Root beer and spending ages getting Bill to show me how things worked. I must have been a real pain in the butt. The evening ended drinking cold beer and talking bikes until late in the shop. What a perfect end to my first day in Texas.
Day 3I believe I started the day with pancakes & syrup. We then started loading the trailer with all the spares and tools needed for keep a drag bike running. By about 12pm the trailer was fully loaded and attached securely to the pick-up. We headed north on I35 towards Oklahoma. According to Bill the 170 miles would take about three and a half hours, not allowing for a stop to buy fried apple pies! Travelling at speeds, which would not be appropriate in England, especially towing a large trailer, we crossed the Red River. This marked the border between Texas and Oklahoma. Just a few more miles and we pulled up at a remote service station. Next to it was a small café that sold food. We stocked up with fried pies and coffee and hit the road again. It really is amazing how far you can travel in a straight line with no traffic jams. We arrived at the track early and park up. Bill and Karen introduce me to people as they turn up at the trailer and many people just introduce themselves. This was my fifth trip to America and it still takes a while to get used to how friendly and polite people are here. I had checked the weather forecast back in England and it had not said how cold it was going to be here. They rarely get the forecast right for England so expecting them to predict America’s weather was a bit optimistic on my part. This was a bit of a bummer as all I had packed were T-shirts and a very light jacket. I put this right when we drive back to Purcell to check-in at “Ruby’s” hotel and managed to pop into Wal-Mart and purchase some warm clothes. Back at the track I was introduced to more people - Dawn, Joe, PJ, Willie, Meagan, Christa, Dr Joe. There were so many people and I just could not remember their names - sorry. Bill got the bike ready for Joe to ride and I got ready with my video camera. The bike was taken down to the start up area where Joe did a burnout in readiness for his first ever run on it. For those of you who have never ridden a proper drag bike I can assure you it takes immense courage (or stupidity!) to even attempt it. I think I was more nervous than Joe! The bike took off with a deafening crackle and then just slowly rolled to a halt. Damn!! Bill’s trailer suddenly became very crowded with numerous bodies trying to see what had gone wrong with the bike. We got the motor out and had it on the bench in no time, our energy levels maintained by copious amounts of hot apple cider made by Karen. For the benefit of non-Americans, Apple Cider in America is called Apple Juice in the UK. The fault was traced to a broken shift drum. The decision was taken to replace the whole transmission with the old one that was known to be good. By 10.30pm the bike sat ready to race the next day, the trailer was locked up and we bundled into the pick-up. We headed off back to Purcell.
We pulled into Ruby’s car park in front of the rooms and manuvoured the pick-up into position next to the other racers vehicles. We pulled on extra clothes and coats and stood next to the others. The rest of the night was spent drinking ice cold beer from ice boxes in the backs of various trucks. I don’t remember too much of the conversation but what I do remember is that I enjoyed it!
Day 4For a change I opted for the Ruby’s Four Pancake Stack with syrup to start the day followed by some good coffee. This worked for me. After watching Bill endure and dish out friendly abuse to the other PMRA members over breakfast, we were into the truck and back to the track in no time.
The morning sky was huge, blue and bright. Everything was looking good and we were optimistic about what Joe and the bike could achieve today. Once again the bike sits on the line, ready for action. Joe is primed and ready, the lights go green and “BWAHHH!” – the bike lurches forward, the rear wheel spins up and a bluey-white trail of tyre and two-stroke smoke is left in its wake. The screaming engine hesitates, starts again, and then stops – something is very wrong! It seemed as though the bike will not change gear. Had we done something wrong when we put the new transmission in? Once again Bill goes flying past on his pit bike to retrieve the bike and a very bewildered Joe…Back at the trailer, Bill checked everything out again. He could not find anything obviously wrong so just made sure all the wiring connections were good and that all linkages had free movement. A quick trip back to the start line and Joe was once again ready to launch. The clear Oklahoma skies had now become littered with racing clouds. A wind that had been getting steadily stronger all morning was now rattling trailer doors and making awnings flutter violently against the sides of their respective vehicles. I fixed the flapping lens cap on my video camera to the side of the camera in readiness to capture Joes run. With his feet still on the foot pegs, Joe carefully inched the bike into stage with the tips of his new racing boots. With the throttle held wide open with his right hand, Joe kept the button on the left side of the shaking bars pressed firmly in. This button works by activating a pneumatic ram that, in effect, puts a huge amount of free play in the throttle cables, allowing the slides to almost shut, causing the engine to run at no more than a very fast idle.
At this stage, this ingenious device is all that was preventing the motor from over revving to the point of self-destruction. The lights go green, Joe releases the button, the three Lectrons feed the motor with fuel, the motor screams and once again, the bike leaves the line with the rear wheel spinning. Again, the bike will not change gear and so Joe carries on down the track trying to get it to shift gear. He is just yards from the finish line when he leaves the shelter of the barriers and is blown by the wind towards the wall. He is almost hanging off the bike in a vain attempt to counteract the force of the wind acting on a very light bike and rider. My video recording shows a massive shower of bright orange sparks emitting from the ceramic-coated chambers on the right side of the bike before it slams into the wall.
Joe is OK and the bike is hastily bundled back into the trailer once again. He tells us how the bike went suddenly to the left, hitting the wall hard enough to cause a lock to lock “tank slapper” The wildly angled deep scuff marks all around the front tyre bear this out. As do the dented pipes and scraped bars. Joe has a hole in his new leathers by his knee and his boot is worn right the way through. At least he’s not hurt. The wind had got so strong that it was now too dangerous to run so the meeting was rightly called off. Joe’s run turned out to be the last of the event. What should we do now? We went back to Ruby’s and cleaned up. A few hours and a little nap later it was time to meet up in Pizza Hut. What can I say, we ate pizza and drank beer, talked rubbish and had a great time!
Day 5Got up, had pancakes, drank coffee and said goodbye to the many people, some of whom had travelled hundreds of miles just to met up and race with their friends. Bill was presented with a “Crazy Frog” toy, complete with the embroidered names “Bird” & “Baxter” on its waistcoat. The same lady (Joe’s mum I believe) also gave Bill a CD album of the said frogs “hits” – the thought of listening to it for the next 180 miles filled me with strange desire to ride home in the back of the truck. We hit the I35 again, heading south for Texas. In what seemed like no time, we were back at “Ranch Baxter”. The trailer was unloaded and the bike put back on the lift ready to be worked on another time. I had asked Karen & Bill if they would allow me to pay for dinner so I was taken off to a local Mexican restaurant were we sampled some of the spiciest dishes. Afterwards I wondered if this was such a good move as I had a long plane trip the following day. We got back relatively early and settled in the lounge in readiness to watch the Dallas Cowboys on TV. Once again we tried different cold beers, one was called Mississippi Mud - that was nice. I think it must be a Baxter tradition that visitors could only retire to bed after consuming alcohol and I didn’t want to appear rude! Day 6 It was my last day in the USA and I was feeling quite sad. It had all gone by in a blur and I had really enjoyed hanging out in the shop with Bill. I didn’t want to leave but also I wanted to see my fiancée, Tina. Yes, I know it’s soppy, but this was my first time away from her in the five years we have been together and I had missed her dreadfully. Bill said he had to go in to work for a while so we stopped at a small café where we got cakes and took them with us to his office. Here I ate mine while looking at all the photos and articles about H2’s and drag racing. Trophy’s and engine parts took up more room in the office than office stuff! It’s 12.30pm and time for Bill to take me to the airport. If Bill had not got me to check my travel documents, I would be staying a day longer and missing my flight as I thought I was leaving on the Wednesday. On the way to the airport we talk about the time I had spent with him and his family. We shake hands, say our goodbyes and off into the departure lounge I go, my suitcase so stuffed with engine parts, I just know I am going to get stopped. I remove all articles from my pockets, take off my shoes and place my regulation compliant travel bag in the tray, ready to be X-ray’d. I pass through the scanner, grab my shoes and wait for the bag to come through. Oh dear, an officer approaches me and asks me to follow him to a table in the middle of the floor in full view of everyone else. “Sir, can you tell me what this is?” the officer asks, pointing at the complete Slider Clutch assembly I had put in my bag. I explained what it was to him but he still tested it for traces of explosive with a wipe and scan test. After a couple of anxious minutes the officer returns and gives the offending item back to me. “Sir, you are free to go now, you have yourself a nice day” he says. I thought that if he seriously wanted me to have a “nice day” he would stop me worrying and personally guarantee that my suitcase would pass though US customs without being searched. It thought it wise not to ask. The plane ride back was much better than the outbound flight as I had three seats to myself. Bill had lent me a Noise Cancelling headset and I must say I was impressed! They almost totally removed the drone of the engines from my movie viewing. Day 7 I arrive at Gatwick and collect my bulging suitcase. Without going into great detail, it was crammed with lots of new parts that, although not dangerous or illegal, may have been subject to certain duties to be paid on them. It was therefore, that I entered customs with a beating heart. I walk through and to my relief - there was no one there. I walk straight through no problem - today is looking good! Outside the terminal, I wait for the bus to take me to the long stay car park. It turns up almost straight away – I even get a seat by the door. I sit there looking smug when I see the sign for “Z” zone. I press the bell for the bus to stop and the driver just ignores it. I stand up and call for him to stop but again he just carries on. Two more passengers join my quest to get him to stop. He goes past the second stop and nearly everyone is now shouting at him, he turns towards us and with a bewildered expression, shouts back in what I think was Romanian. Now I know I’m back in England! After a nice refreshing walk back to “Z” zone hauling my heavy bag and suitcase, I jump in my car and start the 198-mile drive back to Lincolnshire. I remind myself that I have saved at least £25 by not choosing a closer airport… And finally… I have probably missed out loads of stuff and got lots of things wrong in this write-up but what the hell. I had a thoroughly good time and achieved what I set out to do and that is I have learnt a great deal about H2 engine tuning and met some really nice people. To all the PMRA family I extend my sincerest thanks for making me so welcome. I hope to see you all again soon. As you say in America, you guys rock! I would also like say a big “thank you” to Bill’s lovely wife Karen, for feeding me great food and making me so welcome in their home. Last but not least, thank you Mr William Baxter for all your help and the knowledge you have shared with me to help in my quest to build a Nipper & Rick beating bike. I always judge how much I like friends by whether or not I would like to go and have a beer with them. Bill, my little Texan buddy, next time I see you, I’m buying the beer! Chris Ritchie. |
