Ride with a Peek-A-Boo Moon

I love night rides and as I fueled up in Buttonwillow after a great day at the Raceway with my best friend Jim, the sun was setting behind us letting my anticipation grow. I knew that by the time I hit the Grapevine it would be full dark and the stars would make their appearance. A night ride has an air of mystery about it, the mystique of faceless drivers and their passengers cloaked in darkness; they could be anyone my mind wanted them to be while I’m riding along unhidden from their gaze. Somehow this heightens my sense of freedom while on two wheels. To be sure, the need for vigilance has to be primed to ensure that I am actually being seen and known to the driver to be there; adding to that the road hazards coming up fast with the limited range of headlights and it makes for an energized ride.

As I headed south from Buttonwillow a wonderful encounter was presaged when a group of five great egrets soared overhead in a fallen man formation and brought a graceful close to the day. Night was fully engaged when I hit the foot of the southbound upgrade at the Grapevine and, as anticipated, many of the drivers slowed by five, ten MPH, or even more and our dance to the Tejon Pass Summit commenced. The drivers aware enough to maintain speed with me weaved in and out of the number one and two lanes passing by drivers who refused to acknowledge that they should either move to the right or get firm with the gas pedal. Occasionally some of us would risk being hemmed in by the big trucks to make a right end run by a knot of vigilante drivers.

Shortly after having reached the summit and starting the broken decent through the pass and down to the Santa Clarita Valley is when all the sluggish drivers feel the need to make up for the lost time and barrel downslope and the dance is somehow reversed. As I was bending along a gentle right-hand curve the man-in-the-moon made his appearance; just past full and orange hued with the dissipating smoke of the earlier fire between the north and southbound lanes. I think that he has a bemused, almost concerned cast to his eyes, but this night I may have mistaken his concern with a knowing smirk because as the highway straightened out he slowly dipped behind the mountain and began a game of peek-a-boo that would last until I pulled my Victory into the garage more than an hour later.

At times I could see the glow of his reflection, just the halo of his appearance where, if I’d stood still, he would progressively reveal himself. Instead, with the twists and turns of the road and the uneven terrain he would burst out in full view only to disappear again or peak one concerned eye over a ridge to see how I was doing. Even when I reached the relative flat coming away from Castaic and along the Santa Clarita area he played with me, hide and seek, while staying low in order use the rolling foothills. Along one section the man was behind the wind breaking roadside-trees and appeared as a flip-book action cartoon. After passing through the very tricky intersections of the 5 and 14 highways to the 210 he was a more or less steady companion but still chose to slip behind the overpasses whenever he could.

As I neared home and wound my way through the twisties of the Briggs Terrace area I had to conclude that it was I who hid from him, he with his steady and predictable arc, and me with the fleeting and uncommon path.

Road Hazard – One to Go Please

I took a ride this weekend as part of the research I’m doing for a fictional story and ran into an interesting incident and decided to put in the story. Here is the excerpt from my story:

“Along the way I was following a black Range Rover when the passenger decided it was a good time to dump a cup of something. Since I don’t tailgate I got just a misting of it on the windshield that quickly evaporated in the dry desert air. I jumped up next to her and gave the “the look” that my own kids and my church kids could well appreciate. The reaction of instant repentance on her face and in her gestures was priceless. I still have it kids. Why do we people throw nearly anything from our cars? How many fires do we light with our cigarette butts tossed out of cars fully equipped with ash trays? I will never cease to wonder at that.”

We face hazards on the road all the time that are out of the controls of those who have left them behind, blown-out tire fragments, car parts from accidents or otherwise, and any number of natural debris on the roadway. We shouldn’t have to face the hazards of careless people let alone those of reckless people with their heads in places where they can’t think straight. I have seen the cigarette butt thrown out to explode in sparks on the pavement in front of me and felt another hit my pants leg as I rode along; I’ve watched as someone spit out the window without a care. I can live without those, thank you very much.

On the funny side of a road hazard; this was during my first life as a rider when, as a kid of 20 or so, I was riding surface streets in the San Fernando Valley coming home from a particularly meaningful church service and following an older couple that now that I look back on it were probably about as old then as I am now. Cruising at a respectable speed of 45 or so and coming up on them in the lane to their right they ran through a rivulet of water coming down the intersection drain-way. The splash arched high and went into slow motion as I rode right into it and into my open-faced helmet. We pulled to a stop at the next light and with water pouring from my face and torso, I looked down at the woman in the passenger seat and she had such a horrified look on her face that I had to laugh and laugh loud; she smiled, her husband looked over and just completely cracked up. Timing is everything.

Whatever the hazard, natural or manmade, stay vigilant and keep the iron side up.

Me on PAR's Ride - Victory Cross Roads Classic

To split lanes or not to split lanes…that’s a question?

My commute home started out nicely and without incident as I hit the PCH from Paradise Cove after a long weekend of launching and retrieving boats off of the pier and out of the ocean. I’m no longer certain what time of year it was since this was during my first motorcycle life forty years ago but I remember the scene like it was yesterday; nothing tragic, just significant for me as a rider. PCH was pretty open all the way down to Malibu Canyon and I had some nice bubbles within the traffic to ride in and get set for the ride home to La Crescenta. Malibu Canyon was even better and I could get my ’71 Honda CB500 into the twisties as much as I felt like without running up on traffic. Highway 101 was in a normal traffic pattern with enough space to move along at legal speeds without freaking anybody out; that is until I got down to Topanga Canyon and things got locked up. Without the radio that my ’10 Victory Cross Country is equipped with I had no way to directly find out what was up with the traffic and had to take my cues from the drivers around me as I sat there considering the prospect of lane-splitting, or as the vehicle codes call it, “land sharing”. This was not something in my repertoire up to this point though I had used other various maneuvers in emergency situations, stories for other times. It looked grim with most of the drivers within view having already settled in for a long wait.

 

I was sitting in the number one lane and checking out my right mirror when I saw another rider coming up the lanes doing about 15 miles per hour or so and I jumped in behind him for an uncomfortable few miles. Just as I had begun to relax even a little bit and get a feel for it the other rider pulled in behind a car and I followed; that’s when he looked at me and nodded for me to take the lead. I felt obligated by rider courtesy and did but with my heart in my throat the whole time and especially so when traffic moved even just a bit because I just knew someone was going to jump lanes and make me a door accessory. It seemed like a 100 miles but we’d shared the lead duties for less than ten when we scooted around the accident that had closed all but one lane and then flew into the open lanes. A bit later he gave me the thumbs up as he went down the 101 and I continued along the 134 to home.

I reflected on that experience quite a bit and tried lane-splitting a handful more times before deciding that it just isn’t my style. I’ve been back riding now for about five years and have done it only on occasions when riding with a group to keep up with them or a few times when a long wait through controlled intersections could be avoided and there was a nice spacing between lanes to the front for a good amount of time saved. I just don’t like coming up between drivers and leap frogging them at the green to cut in front of one or the other; I know it bugs drivers and that’s not my style. Also, I have a working hypothesis that when I hear “motorcycle down” on traffic reports at least 50% of the time it is when a rider was splitting lanes at high speed or doing high speed weaves.

I reviewed the 50-state vehicle codes on this issue using a great resource with an interactive map of the U.S. at: http://www.americanmotorcyclist.com/Rights/State-Laws.aspx?stateid=5

California is the only state to allow it with only a couple of other states making any kind of note beyond “not allowed”. The California Driver Handbook states it as “motorcycles can travel in the unused space between two lines of moving or stationary vehicles.” On the AMA site referenced above it simply states “Authorized per California Highway Patrol.”

Here are a couple of notable references from the AMA site; Arkansas: “Not referenced in Administrative Code or Statutes.” Picture here the Arkansas County Mounty, complete with campaign-hat pulled down to his eyebrows and a wad of chew as he grins at you once he catches you… Michigan seems a bit convoluted in what is allowed “Not authorized; "A person operating a motorcycle, moped, low-speed vehicle, electric personal assistive mobility device, or bicycle shall not pass between lines of traffic, but may pass on the left of traffic moving in his or her direction in the case of a 2-way street, or on the left or right of traffic in the case of a 1-way street, in an unoccupied lane.” I think that if I ride to Michigan I’ll just stick to my lane and eat the time instead of to try to figure that out.

My recommendation is to know the law of the land, find your style, stick with it, become expert at it, to be vigilant at all times within your style, and keep the iron side up. Dirty Harry said it pretty well, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

You mess'n with me?

He crept forward to the limit line of the three-way stop like he was approaching the edge of the Grand Canyon to look down but was afraid the ledge would give way. There was nobody at or approaching the cross street to the left and the oncoming traffic could only turn right or come straight through. I was inching along trying to get to the stop without putting either foot down to the pavement. He finally got to the stop and took an exaggerated look left and then right to where there was no street; I was foiled and had to put down my foot or lose the Victory Cross Country. He checked his rear-view mirror and met my eyes; the smirk that showed at the corner of his eyes belied his faux-safety approach almost as much as his running the stop sign up the street to cut me off so close that I had to go hard to the brakes. This guy was messing with me (to use the politically correct term). I hadn’t honked, made any overt gestures at him, or yelled; I was on my best rider-behavior and yet he felt compelled to mess with me and felt no remorse for cutting me off and endangering me as a fellow motorist. Maybe it was unconscious body language that I sent out, who really knows?

Why is it that drivers will tailgate a rider closer than they would ever follow a car, or knowingly cut a rider off or otherwise impede us on the roadway? Is it because they know we can’t afford to bump them or otherwise have to take firm action to avoid them, knowing we’d lose any confrontation between car and bike? We certainly can’t get mixed up with road rage by putting a boot to their side panel; one over correction on their part and we’d be flying. Is it some sort of aggressive retaliation for some time that a biker split the lanes at a stop light and then cut in front of them at the green; or being frightened by a lane-splitter they didn’t see coming at 20 or 30 MPH faster than they were going? Whatever their reasoning is, they are a menace to riders. It’s bad enough that we have to be aware of everybody who might not see us and endanger us without knowing.

Vigilance is the key and the only thing that keeps a rider relatively safe on the roads with all sorts of drivers. I knew this guy was going to roll through the stop sign and cut me off and anticipated his actions otherwise my hard braking may not have been enough. I had hoped that he wouldn’t mess with me further but couldn’t afford to assume that he wouldn’t.

Now the million dollar question - $64K just won’t cut it anymore: A show of hands please; how many of you mess with anybody on the roads, bike, car, or big-assed trucks? That’s too many of you even if we don’t count all the ones who fudged their answer. Don’t mess with people on the roads; it’s bad for your health even if nothing comes of it at the time. You develop bad habits and the experience does weird stuff to your body, increasing heart rate and blood pressure while spiking the adrenaline. And, like so many of the world’s religions tell us; what goes around, comes around. Don’t treat others like you don’t want to be treated.

Vigilance always and keep the iron side up.

Back in the Saddle 2

I was forced out of the saddle and off the bike for three weeks due to a normal eye function gone awry but was released back to “normal” activities midweek last week and I just had to get out on the bike; even this urbanized ride is feeling pretty good. I went out the 210 to Bert’s Mega Mall if only just to walk around a showroom floor full of bikes and check out the accessories shop. Yes, in my mind the best looking and riding bikes they have are Victories. From there I decided to check out the Santa Fe Dam area and look for a nice place to read a book, something else I wasn’t allowed to do for the three weeks or so. When I got to the top of the dam it looked nice in the park but I didn’t feel like paying the $10 entry fee; a contributing factor to that feeling being the fact that I had only $5 in my pocket at the time. Note to self; hit the ATM before heading out. Since I’d fasted before communion at church by the time I turned it around on the dam I shrugged it off and headed to my chosen lunch destination, The Honey Badger Café in Alhambra for a great sandwich and some writing; creative writing something I just hadn’t been able to get much into since I felt totally out of synch with the eye thing going on.

The Honey Badger Café is an internet café about two blocks from my office. I’ve been trying to come here once a week for lunch and some writing but have missed it the last three weeks since I have been working out of the house to help the eye finish this little “process”. Week days at the café are nice with subdued patrons eating lunch and scanning the net with a nice mix of music over the sound system making for a good place for me to work on PAR’s story and the blogs. I found out that Sunday is a different story with folks, assuredly younger than me, at every booth and table with at least two people at each table for the most part and nearly every single person with a screen open in front of them. The energy is much higher today and wouldn’t be suitable for writing a book. For a blog on motorcycle stuff, not too bad at all and I’m feeling particularly good about putting this short post together.

Riding motorcycles is high energy, high focus, and high vigilance. If it’s not then you’ll never be an old rider. This is what has captured my interest in riding; total involvement of mind and body in the effort to get from one place to another. Today’s ride and a couple of commutes next week should get me right back into riding form for next weekend’s Veteran’s Day charity ride benefitting “The Blue Star Mothers”, my first charity ride. I am looking forward to meeting other riders and enjoying the company of people who love to ride and love riding to benefit others.

Time to head for home but no freeways, just my favorite way home from the San Gabriel area, up Garfield to Mission, over to Orange Grove through South Pasadena and then down to Linda Vista above the Rose Bowl, past Descanso Gardens along the oak canopied drive and up to Foothill for the short jog over to Briggs and on up to home.

That was a week ago. Today I finished my prep for the charity ride by adding chrome hard bag rails and a chrome flag billet complete with flag. I’m ready and excited to meet riders I don’t know for a nice ride and for a good cause.

 

Wistful Thinking

Leaving the house for work this morning before sunrise I had a thin sliver of moon to watch over me as I wound down Terrace and Shields and the Cheshire smile was all but gone giving me pause as I remembered the fickle and mischievous nature of the cat. Vigilance, always vigilance while on the road, especially on my Victory Cross Country (VCC). I thought about the dearth of Iron Side Up postings and that even the last few were about some four wheeled adventures in the 24hrs. Of LeMons. With the exception of a run up to Walnut Creek for a special birthday party for a very special friend and back down the Pacific Coast I have only really been riding to work and back.  I don’t know why I didn’t write that one up, maybe I’ll have to do it far back in the review mirror. So, what to write about? How about a trip I’d rather have taken on the VCC?

I left my friend Jim’s house in Walnut Creek early one morning while on a work related field trip after having driven up there from SoCal the afternoon before in my AT&T Chevy Silverado, Crew-cab 4X4 for two days of site visits for upcoming microwave radio projects. I love spending time with Jim and his family and feel right at home with them so I was already in a wistful mood and looking forward to being back with them for the Bossk’ birthday party, Bossk being a one year old Mastiff mix with a penchant for long jumping into the pool.  It didn’t take much for me to switch into the mode of wishing I had the Victory to ride instead of even my cool work truck. I recommend this as a ride and have put it on the list of rides to take for myself; Walnut Creek to Sonoma to Lake Berryessa and back to Walnut Creek, about 185 miles.

The only four-lane roadways were right in and out of Walnut Creek but even that was a nice two-wheeler’s track as Highway 680 takes you across the Benicia Bridge ($5 toll going north, nothing specific about motorcycle tolls) with a great view of the bay and estuaries and then over Highway 780 across another raised roadway along the north lobe of the San Francisco Bay to CA-37 toward Napa. It was an ornithologist’s dream or maybe nightmare since I couldn’t really stop and observe. I recognized the graceful necked American Avocets, Black-necked Stilts, Great and Snowy Egrets, Great Blue Herons, dozens of other wading birds that I would need binoculars and a field guide to name, and hundreds of water fowl. The tide was up but receding and the wading birds swooped in to freshly exposed mud flats all along the roadways. The streams of water wound their way through the tall marsh grasses. The only improvement that I could think of on my drive was having nothing overhead and a true wide angle view from the back of a motorcycle.

The route transitions from the 780 to the 80 to CA-37 in a little less than 10 miles so you need to stay aware and be in the correct lanes to make the junctions. CA-37 and the short section of CA-121 were a bikers delight and not too shabby for the working man either. Two lanes of good tarmac, some nice technical riding with clean blacktop at the apex of the turns, no sand; all this while traversing through the vineyards of the foothills of the Sonoma Mountains. Each time I passed a bike going the other way I sensed the smiles even if there was a full face shield in the way. My wistful thinking turned to wishful thinking turned into downright wanting to jump on the next bike I saw and ride along. I had to remind myself that I was being paid to drive through this wonderland of roadways and that it violates company policy to ride a motorcycle while on company business; the only other such limitation on transportation is flying one’s own personal plane. I got into Sonoma, grabbed a smoothie and met up with the rest of the team that would be going first to our site at Red Mountain and then on to Lake Berryessa. We left Sonoma in a caravan of my truck, two Hybrid Tahoes, and another technician’s 4X4 truck. The road up to the site access road is a true mountain road worthy of a rider’s full attention. However, I wouldn’t recommend the access road with a mix of asphalt and dirt that didn’t quite require the 4X4; doable but not pleasurable on a touring bike.

The run up to Lake Berryessa over CA-12/Sonoma Hwy, some back roads to CA-29/Helena Hwy, and then to CA-128/Sage Canyon Road is completely worthy of two wheeled travel. After leaving the Sonoma Valley and the vineyards you wind your way up toward the resort communities near and around the lake, through the rolling hills dotted with oak, sycamore, and pine. The road around the lake offers good viewing of the reservoir lake and surrounding mountains.

Along the way I passed quaint looking motor hotels, bed and breakfast places (particularly around the vineyards), and camping for those so inclined. The round trip for me that day was about 185 miles or so, 95 from Jim’s place in Walnut Creek to our site at Lake Berryessa, pictured here.

My take on wistful thinking is that it is not too bad of a pastime as long as you don’t let it drive regrets at being in the moment doing what you’re doing and being with the folks you’re with and as long as you don’t let wistful thinking take the place of getting out for a pleasure ride now and then.

LeMons Post 3 – Our 24 Hours

Our opening line-up of drivers was going to be Trekkor, Christen, me, Cameron, John, and then Jim. We needed to alternate the McClelland drivers due to some shared race equipment issues. Once the cars lined up, all the fooling around was done, not necessarily the foolishness, just the part we did for laughs. The race was like bats out of hell from start to finish. If you’ve never seen bats out of hell check out the YouTube link and simply switch the bats for cars in your mind and you have an accurate depiction of the race, all 24 hours of it except the drivers are not equipped with radar, only small mirrors with no time to study them. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiSl9YesOLg

Trekkor got us out and going, with his LeMons racing experience, getting the feel for the car and avoiding all the troubles 130+ cars will make going at race speeds on a 3 miles track. I did the math; evenly spaced going the same speed we would have about 70 feet between each car. That barely happened; only on the opening few laps under the yellow flag when each car was let onto the track one at a time; picture a funeral procession with everyone going at a sedate speed, no passing, all polite and respectful. Then the green flag came out and you should refer back to the bats-out-of-hell view of the race. The only times it wasn’t so nuts was when the yellow flag came out and then there is no passing from yellow to yellow. There were two corner worker changes that came under a double yellow flag with two emergency vehicles keeping everyone in check and the slow procession was on; we learned from the first switch of corner workers and ducked in for a driver change and fuel stop loosing only a lap in the process.

The only other exception to cars going round and round the track was under the one red flag condition. Everyone stopped where they were when the red flags came out once the car rolled that I referred to in the first post. With all the video available on this race I am really surprised that nobody caught this. It was a scary moment in time met with a relieved cheer when the driver climbed out on his own power and walked it off.

Round and round the track is merely a figure of speech for the Buttonwillow Raceway. Here is a track map of the raceway; they have 29 different race and test configurations none of which are circles or even close to an oval. It is a very technical track to drive and that’s one thing that attracts me to it. The other is the utter majesty of the surroundings. Well, I couldn’t find the sarcasm font for that part…

This is the map of track configuration #15. It doesn’t really do justice to the banks or lack thereof or of the hills that are just big enough to hide the back side. A nice, technical track, sure to test drivers of any experience level.

Christen’s stint was cut short after only a few laps when the driver of another team slammed side on into her, cracking two rims while blowing out the tires. She did a fantastic job of limping the car into our pit where we spent about 30 minutes or so doing body work, changing to the older worn tires, getting me ready to take an early shift, and costing us a minimum of 10 laps. In my opinion, this other team should have been DQ’d for being so out of control even though the driver found her and apologized. During the award “ceremonies” we had to restrain Christen from going after them when they were named the B Class winners. Secretly, I wanted her be for real mad and break free so I could separate them but she was clowning, mostly; peacemakers have opportunities most folks don’t notice during the fray.

Getting into all of the driver’s gear and squeezing in through the roll cage is a chore and takes practice. The driver dives through the cage in full gear, settles into the seat, and gets his arms out of the way while two team members strap him in. I had to laugh when I got home Sunday from the race when I found ESPN on the tube and they were showing a driver being belted in by two teammates; it was exactly what we went through over our 24 hour race. I couldn't find a YouTube video of this chore so you'll have to use your imagination or watch the next race on TV. Picture putting a sardine back into the can and re-sealing the it.

I was completely un-prepared for my first shift. I got onto the track having gotten lost on the way and then sped on to merge with traffic, not too bad getting on and then I was through turns 2 and 3 and heading to a nice configuration of turns when the bats caught up with me and there was not a moment of relative peace on the track after that. Even the yellow flags gave only a few minutes of respite from the hectic pace. I got two or three laps in when I blew the first of two valve cover gaskets having gone well over our self-imposed 5,000 RPMs in my adrenalin induced need to complete and keep the other, more aggressive drivers off my bumper…and fenders. I lasted another few laps and spent a total of about 45 minutes on the track when the second gasket went. I know I cost us six or so laps with that.

We changed quickly from me to John ostensibly to get him on the track in case we had to pull off for good if the high oil pressure couldn’t be controlled. John did great, giving us many good laps over his two-hour shift without blowing a gasket as did everyone else who drove throughout the race, even me, until the last couple of laps when Jim went more all out to catch the eventual winner, more on his final stint later.

There were no other incidents of note along the way that brought us to a halt or even a long pause. My second shift was from 10 p.m. to midnight when I turned into a pumpkin. Somewhere along the way between shifts I caught a 30 minute nap and was really ready to go; more prepared for the pace of the race, my own driving shortcomings, and 4,500 RPM limit we put on the car. Driving at night was surreal; the track was barely lit by only reflectors and the islands of light surrounding the turn worker stations. We were going so fast that to take your eyes off the track could send you out into the dark, lost from all observers, only to be found after sunrise and the circling Turkey Vultures. Headlights, driving spot-lights, and the lighted decorations of the cars made it like some sort of B movie horror flick of monsters chasing monsters through the night. As I said, I didn’t blow another car gasket, only the gasket we have between race competitiveness and road rage when a bedeviled BMW dove in on me and hit my left front bumper. I barely maintained decorum where I could have turned hard into the contact and sent him spinning off into the infield where he belonged and we both continued on. I have to confess here that I took some perverse pleasure in seeing the devil car being towed off on a flatbed truck and out of the race for good sometime later in the pre-dawn hours.

We then arranged our rotation so that Jim could cross the finish line and receive a well deserved checkered flag. I drove just before him for my final shift from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. having found an hour nap with a couple of noddings off here and there. Daylight had just taken hold when I re-entered the track and my nemesis, the stretch limo/Titanic, was just ahead of me early on. I kept getting stuck behind him not having the race skills required to get around him without causing a multicar pile-up. I totally misjudged my opportunity with nobody behind me coming on and I tried to pass him on the outside of a sharp curve leading into the ess turns. He just kept coming further out into the turn and left me nowhere to go but off and so into the penalty box for leaving the track at a further cost of 3 laps. After getting back on the track I made some decent laps, not enough to overcome the eventual winner, but some decent laps. I did get rear ended when a very slow moving car was in front of me going into a curve and someone fast approaching me from behind. The driver in front inexplicably went to his brakes; I was able to avoid hitting him but the guy in back of me got me. I thought we were going to lock bumpers but was able to shake him off and continue on; it was a close call with a serious time wasting as the penalty if we couldn’t shake it off; there were no black flags for us and we went on our way.

Jim got into the car and we only had a three lap deficit. As the race neared the climax more and more teams gravitated to the second story of the race tower just behind the finish line. There was loads of excitement as different teams calculated their positions in the race using a smart phone app tied right to the race computer. Jim closed the gap and then the red flags came out when the car tumbled off the track and back on. It was another 20 minutes until the race restarted and that could have meant another lap on the leader for class C. As it was, there wasn’t enough time even without the stoppage, Jim pushed the car and turned a 2:22 on the lap. That’s 17 seconds better than my timed run in the racing 914 without other drivers around to contend with. Amazingly, he blew out the gasket on the last lap, received the checkered flag and immediately left the track by the back door because he was out of gas and sputtered into our pit area.

I hate doing the math on this since we finished second by a mere two laps and everywhere I looked my shifts cost us laps. Somewhat objectively and very much in the way of emotional self-preservation, we overcame everything within our control but could not overcome the eight lap penalty and the 10+ laps the classless B driver cost us early on in the race. Jim was ecstatic about the whole race, our team, and our getting it all done. That was my victory lap.

For an official race wrap up by the organizers go to YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWIJ-8H29Ow

For more videos search YouTube on: 24 hours of lemons 2012 buttonwillow

Part 4 will be my personal reflect on "The Race in the Rearview Mirror".

jjwhite