Audio By Carbonatix
Some people have blah Sundays. Fans of motorcycle racing have wheelie-poppin’, rubber-burnin’, throttle-thrustin’ Sundays.
And in a season finale this Sunday, Colorado’s Motorcycle Roadracing Association (MRA) will unleash more than one hundred amateur-class racers to tackle hairpin turns and jockey for position along the paved, 1.7-mile Second Creek Raceway. The goal: crossing the finish line first, with appendages intact.
Race day consists of a dozen eight-lap races, featuring bike classes ranging from 600cc sportbikes (those fast-looking, noisy “crotch rockets” that fly by you on the highway), to 1,000cc modified bikes. Twelve pounds of full-body protective gear, including a spine protector, armored gloves and full-face helmet, allows racers (in theory, at least) to skid to an injury-free stop, then mount up for the next race. Should one be unlucky enough to crash, the yellow caution flag gets thrown up as spectators strain to ogle the possible carnage.
“If they can go down and slide without hitting anything, they’ll be fine,” says Tamara Schellinger, whose seen scores of such tumbles. She and husband Mark Schellinger own Vanmar Racing, which trains and outfits a number of MRA racers. With speeds reaching well over 100 miles per hour, racers must fight to keep both wheels aground. “That’s sheer horsepower that brings it up,” Schellinger explains.
MRA racers hail from across Colorado, Utah and Wyoming. In their day jobs as lawyers, mechanics and regular Joes, these men (and four women!) are different as can be, yet united in their addiction to racing by two common denominators: an unquenchable yen for adrenaline and, hopefully, reliable HMO coverage. Admission includes a pit pass for spectators who wish to meet their favorite sweaty, dust-encrusted racers up close.
Despite the extreme bent, organizers consider racing a family event. Racers usually bring their spouses, significant others, kids and pals to provide free labor as pit crew. The volunteer labor is a crucial element:With a single race bike costing up to ten grand and repairs and parts running a close second, racers pay out much more than than they could ever recoup in prizes. Winners of the MRA race pocket anything from a few hundred bucks in cash to free tires, which cost $360 and up and are chewed to shreds in a single day.
But for someone like Rob Christman, who’s been racing for five years, it’s all about the challenge. Says Christman, who finishes each race with a sustained twenty-yard wheelie: “No matter what, there’s always somebody faster.”
