Just three months ago, fellow editor Elizabeth Blackstock sat on her first motorcycle, and took her first ride on one — via a backpack ride at the Circuit of the Americas hurtling down straights at a breakneck 170 mph. You all rightfully applauded, as did I. As a rider, and fellow admirer/follower of motorcycle racing, you bet I was jealous, but I was also in awe of her chutzpah to take on something even I as a rider hadn’t. But the question of course remained... if the opportunity was presented to me to do the same, would I take it? Would you?
The opportunity arrived almost as fast as Blackstock’s bike did, with an added note that read “if you’re brave enough.” Having turned 35 earlier this year, I made a conscious decision that I only have so long to try things (and come out unmarked) much like this, before I just can’t. So, I agreed, and then of course questioned that choice for the weeks leading up to the ride — right up until my leg swung over the seat.
(Full disclosure: This was part of an epic racing weekend set up by our friends at MotoAmerica and Royal Enfield. Mostly, they provided me a hotel for the weekend, but I drove and fed myself, while enjoying the wicked fast motorcycle racing. The ride is typically a gift after purchasing certain VIP ticket packages for a race weekend or donating to the Roadracing World Action Fund, with proceeds used to promote track safety and install soft barriers at tracks.)
That 80-plus degree June day, baking in my full-leather suit, I stood trackside and watched two other women take on the ride-along gauntlet (we were all very intimidated in one way or another prior to getting on the bike), before I hopped over the pit wall to get seated on the Suzuki GSX-R1000R behind former pro Superbike racer Chris Ulrich, who was piloting the bike for each guest’s two laps. At that point, there’s not much time to think about anything but your ride, body, and overall safety as you’re reminded to keep the balls of your feet firmly planted on the passenger footpegs added to what’s an actual racing bike, and hold onto a little handle (as Elizabeth also held onto for her ride) installed just behind the fuel filler on the tank. These, and your seat, are the only things keeping you on the bike once you get going. You get settled in. Wranglers/pit crew flip your visor down for you. You nod that you’re ready, and it’s off of pit lane.
No spring chicken to racing, I assumed we had a brief stint of pit limit speeds to prepare before hitting track speed. I was oh so very wrong. I tried finishing a thought about when the ride would really start, when Ulrich hit the throttle hard, and thanks to that 205 horsepower applied to a lightweight racing bike (coming in at 395 pounds before you tack on myself and Ulrich), we’re suddenly soaring from pit lane to the front straight at almost 100 mph. You’re not thinking about anything except where your feet and hands are — so as to avoid having to also write about whether the airbags and armor on your leather racing suit actually work.
But then you let go — mentally. Do not physically let go.
It’s here where you will do one of two things: Freak out and give Ulrich a couple of elbows to slow down or end the ride, or, reach full zen. For me, I felt like my spiritual journey had come to a close and this ride, on the grounds of Road America, in Wisconsin, was my Mecca. I will make the pilgrimage to set my offerings at the altar of the motorcycle racing gods and hope to be forever rewarded in speed and smooth asphalt. There will be no others.
Anyways, the whole experience has a dreamy-like quality anytime I recall it. If you follow the team’s advice to relax and follow Ulrich’s lead, which is almost natural to do if you’re already a rider, there, the ride truly becomes a choreographed dance. You feel like you’re just kinda there, and you might be a half step behind at times, but that’s OK. Just know, the more you relax, the better you will follow. You’ll go faster, and lean a little harder, while becoming well-acquainted with the colorful curbs close to your head at every corner.
Once you realize you’ve really fallen into step, the ride ends, and you’re left with an adrenaline high, shaky extremities, and brief moments of disbelief as you continue to register that it was indeed you on the back of that bike and that was not some astral projection or out-of-body experience. Luckily, you’re also given a video to remember the ride by — or at least watch it again and again while giggling in delight as you realize that you did indeed ride a superbike that freakin’ fast.
But heed my advice, this experience will most likely end with you wanting to take on the ride again, and/or take on tracking a bike on your own. I will only say ride at your own financial risk, because the only thing that might hurt after this ride, is your wallet when you start investing in a track bike and track days. Ask me how I know.