Bell of a Weekend

It was a bell of a weekend. And by “bell,” I mean “bell curve” and by “bell curve,” I mean started for shit on Friday, peaked on Saturday and ended for shit on Sunday/Monday. But the peak was a few seconds in to Saturday’s HWSV race. It was a moment.

Friday I was loaded up and ready to roll out of Jericho, VT right on time at 1pm in order to arrive at Canaan Motor Club for the USCRA’s 2026 Canaan TT. I had the pre-Silverstone MotoGP podcasts cued up and was rolling down 89 South when a woman pulled up beside me and was desperately pointed to the back of my trailer. Thinking back to a little bump I had felt a few moments before and dreading what I’d find ,I pulled right over in the breakdown lane.

Fuck.

I’ll spare you all the bloody details (and there was blood because they mean it when they say “steel-belted radial”) I’ll instead giving a quick synopsis followed by a photo gallery.

• Called Vin because he set his camper on fire once while rolling down Route 93. He didn’t pick up.
• Called Caleb and ran my plan by him. He signed off on it.
• Finally found that I actually had a spare tire and went to work on getting it down from under the trailer.
• While under the trailer which was jacked up on a small janky-ass bottle jack (which Caleb did NOT sanction as a safe plan), and while fighting with the spare tire winch, I heard the blessed words of my new best friend, “Hey could you use a little help under there?” “Fuck yeah,” I replied crawling out.
• With the help of Josh and his golf buddy with the matching golf shirts! — who were from Randolph and South Royalton and had been up in Morrisville golfing — I was back on the road having wasted an hour and forty five minutes.

A photo essay:

Back on the road with the “new” spare tire, I pulled into Canaan at 4:45pm and set up my pit which was a literal compound for the weekend. From left to right, our people took up just about an entire row of the Canaan Pits. Mike and Ethan Corcoran, Vin and Nicola Borbone, Me and Ken, Jack Manning and Griffin Smith from CBE, Aaron and Angie Smith, Griffin’s parents.

I’d love to say that everyone got set up, the weather looked great and we all settled in for a quiet, relaxing night and were ready for racing the next morning. Sadly, that was not true. Mike Corcoran, ever the Frugal Franny, had recently acquired a new-to-him-from-FB Marketplace 10,000watt generator. The good part of that purchase was the fact that Mike could now run the AC in his toy hauler and enjoy a 68º environment. The bad part of that purchase was, well, everything else. The generator clocked in at approximately 10,000 dB (presumably 1 dB per watt) and you literally could not have a conversation if you were within 10 yards of the generator.

Saturday morning, in an effort to find some peace, I started a GoFundMe — no I’m not kidding, it’s real — to get Mike a generator so that we could talk during the weekend. It’s not too late to contribute: tinyurl.com/GetMikeANewGenerator

During the morning Riders’ Meeting, we began to feel a little “liquid sunshine” as Doug calls it, falling from the sky and by the time I was back in our pit it was raining hard enough that I chose not to go out in the first practice session. An hour later when the second round of practices started up, the rain had long-since ceased and the track was dry. I went out and the bike ran great. I went out towards the end of the pack and got stuck behind some folks, but the task of pushing the bike and feeling things out was accomplished and all was well. Towards the end of the session, as I came down the back straight, approaching the right hand Turn 6, I saw a cloud of dust and a rider tumbling through the dirt on the outside of the track. The session was red flagged soon after that and as I came past the incident a second time who should I see standing on the side of the track, but CBE rider Griffin Smith with the CBE Commando “Pooh Bear” (least cool nickname fora race bike in history) on its side in the dirt. When I pitted I saw Griffin’s stepmom Angie crying and pretty freaked out. I assured her that Griffin was standing up and unhurt. A few minutes later he rolled in sitting on the Pooh Bear on the AAA trailer. Click here to read CBE’s full weekend report.

Once Pooh was unloaded, it was an AHOD (All Hands On Deck) situation. Fortunately, our first race of the day wasn’t until Race 8 so we had time to pitch in on Operation Make-Pooh-A-Runner-Again.

The Operation was a success and Griffin and I both rolled out for Heavyweight Supervintage on time! I was gridded on the third row and got a fabulous jump off the line. As I tipped into T1, out of the corner of my eye I saw Vin on his H2 trying to go around my outside, I hung tough and ran him out to the edge of the track forcing him to roll off before me. I was the first HWSV bike into T1. Yes, that’s right, Vin and Kevin Dinsmoor were both behind me coming out of T1. (Reminder, this race was marked as the highpoint on the weekend’s bell curve. So I’ll just sit here for a moment relish the experience…. Both Vin and Kevin were behind me coming out of T1!)

Ok, so a split second later, Kevin passed me as we headed for T2, but I was also able to go underneath Josh Gurley as we tipped into T2. So it was officially on! Both Vin and Josh were behind me as we worked our way through the back section of the track. And most importantly, I hadn’t even seen Sayre yet. My on-track frenemy and the only person I really want to beat in HWSV was somewhere behind me. He was my focus as I pinned the throttle wide open down the back straight.

As we finished Lap 1, I still had not seen anyone. Vin, Josh and Sayre were all still behind me. For a moment I thought to myself, “Oh shit, I hope Vin hasn’t crashed.” I have never led a lap in front of Vin on his H2. This was a historic moment.

So that was the tippytop of the aforementioned bell curve. It was, slowly, down hill from here. On our second run down the back straight I missed a shift and Vin passed me before the kink of T5. (I say that as if missing the shift was the reason Vin passed me. That’s not true. They just happened to occur at the same moment.) At that point, the race became pretty lonely. Vin took off and I put my head down telling myself over and over, “Sayre is back there and he’s going to pounce! Go!” And I did.

When the race ended, I looked back over my shoulder and Josh Gurley was sitting there right behind me. It turns out Sayre got caught up behind a slower rider and was nowhere near me the whole race. Josh, however, had been on my rear wheel the whole time. Regardless, I ended up 5th overall and 3rd in my class, Heavyweight Supervintage.

My next race was about a half hour later and honestly, it kinda sucked. It was Period 4 Open and my the two competitors in my class were Neil Jester on his FZR600 and Tom Bishop on Troy Hogg’s Honda Hawk. I got another good jump off the line and was the third bike into Turn 1, behind Clark Miller and Matt Camillieri on their Formula 500 bikes (different class). I stuck with Clark and Matt through the first lap, but after T5, Neil shot past me and the three of them took off. On Lap 3 Steve Baker on his Honda 350 passed me and I immediately fought back and repassed him. I put my head down, determined to keep him and his puny little Honda behind me and my majestic T500 rocket! Alas, Steve did what Steve does which is to say, he went around me on the outside through a corner with his bike leaned over farther than the Laws of Physics allow. Determined to pass him back I pursued him and at the end of the back straight, I told myself, “I can lean just as much as he can!” and followed him into T6, the righthander at the end of the straight. Then my front end broke free and I told myself that, in fact, I can’t lean over as much as him and I rolled off to gather the bike back up He beat me. And honestly, given the differential of our bikes, that was pretty humiliating. Regardless, I did keep Tom Bishop behind me and got a 2nd in Period 4 Open.

My last race of the day was Masters which is known by some as The Class That Features The Booth/French Showdown 2026 edition. The night before Caleb had managed to get Patrick Mack and Josh Gurley to dive into his FZR400 and he had been strutting around the pit all day Saturday talking about how great the bike was running and assuring me he was going to kick my ass and thus lock up the Showdown Championship.

Looking at the grid sheet before the race, I saw that Caleb was gridded on the front row and I was on Row 2. I was going to need a good start. However as we came around from the Out Lap and gridded up, Caleb was gridding himself on the last row. WTF?!?! I looked over my shoulder at him and then looked over at the scorers’ table and saw Caleb’s wife Holly grinning at him. OK, so that fucker was so confident that he was gridding himself on the last row so that he could say he had started behind me if/when he beat me.

The green flag dropped and I got another great start. Only Kevin Dinsmoor and Billy Saine on their modern bikes beat me to T1. In T1 Mark Hull went around my outside and I chased him down to T2. At the end of Lap 3, I missed a shift and Josh Gurley came up on my right and passed me. Coming out of T1 on Lap 4 I stapled myself to Josh’s rear wheel and tried to go under him in T2. “Easy there fella,” I said to myself as Josh checked up and we almost came together. I chased him through Lap 4. At points he was faster and at other points I was faster. As we came back around to T2, I again came right up on him but his four-stroke Skorpion was too much for me coming out of the corner. Lap 5, same thing. Lap 6, same thing again; right up on him into T2 and he pulls away out of T2. Lap 7, I said, “That’s enough of this bullshit” and coming out of T2, I pinned it and kept it open until he rolled off. I shot past him into T3 and promptly ran wide, letting him back underneath me. Right at the finish line Billy Saine lapped me which took away my final lap and with that Josh had beat me. However, I had beaten Caleb which was my only real goal of the race.

Saturday night was the Pot Luck which featured some amazing catered food that Doug had gotten from Poor House Barbecue in Canaan. If you haven’t been there, try it and get the Maple Brisquet Mac and Cheese. I had three servings. After the potluck, I hung out with Caleb for a bit — during which time he told me his previously “amazing” FZR was now “running for shit” — and then it was Whiskey, Whiskey, Benadryl time and this boy was off to bed.

Sunday morning the sun was shining and I went out for Practice 1. When I came in I checked my lap times and was not happy. Honestly, I hadn’t been happy with my lap times all weekend and after talking to Ken between practices, I changed a couple shift points utilizing the motor’s overrev to shift less and rev higher. When I came in my second set of lap times were better.

At this point in our tale we’ve reached that point in the bell curve where it starts to drop really steeply.

The first race of the day was The Booth/French Showdown 2026 (known to some as Masters) which was still going because I had beat Caleb on Saturday. One win was all Caleb needed to take the 2026 crown so I was in a “must win” situation. Caleb again gridded himself last. This time he said that his bike was running so badly, he didn’t want to get run over from behind at the start. The green flag dropped and I got a horrible start. Pretty much everyone got past me by T2. On the start of Lap 2, the race was suddenly red-flagged. We pulled in and I learned that Neil Jester had tipped into T1 when a second rider, in an attempt to go under Neil, had left his braking waaay too late and t-boned Neil’s FZR. The ambulance rolled out immediately and Neil was reportedly facedown not moving beside the track. As I type this we now know that Neil is doing OK. He was taken to the hospital and though he suffered a bunch of injuries he will ultimately be OK. It was a scary way to start the race day though.

Once the ambulance had taken Neil to the hospital, attention was turned to the track. The crash had left a long, wide streak of oil on the outside of Turn 1. A group of volunteers grabbed all the brooms they could find and spent a ton of time brushing peat moss into the oil line. After that, we took a family-sized bottle of Dawn dish soap and brushed that into the oil line. Lastly, the track manager, Dave arrived on the scene with a tractor bucket loaded up with water to rinse off the dish soap. All of this took so long that Doug Donelan announced an early lunch so that once the clean up was done, we’d be able to resume racing. Race 1 which had to be restarted because we had only completed one lap, didn’t even start until after 12 noon. And we needed to be off the track by 4pm. Races were shortened to 6 laps.

After lunch, the Booth/French Showdown 2026 was restarted and I got a much better start. My GoPro video camera, of course, crapped out and I got no video of the race because 1.) #GoProSucks and 2.) we’re now on that steep down side of the bell curve so nothing is going well. What I know is this: I got a good start and Caleb was behind me. Then on Lap 4 as I ran the throttle WFO just after the kink of T5, something let go in the motor. I immediately threw my hand up and pulled off the race line, slowing. By the time I got to pit-in, the bike wouldn’t idle and I was only barely keeping it running as I pulled into our pit.

Ken and Vin descended on the bike and began looking for the problem We pulled the plugs and they looked perfect. (“Whew, no holed-piston.”) We put the bike on the starter rollers and fired it up. It ran for shit, but it did run. The gas flow seemed not great on one side of the gas lines. We pulled the tank off, drained the gas and pulled the petcock. Bam! Filthy dirty! We put the bike on the rollers and I was sure we were all set. No bueno. The bike still ran horribly. We pulled the tank off agin and swapped in new gas lines, this time without a quick-release valve. Tried the bike again. Still, no bueno.

We pulled both the carbs off and cleaned all the jets and channels. Tried the bike again. Still, no bueno.

At this point, we were up to Race 6. Our next race was Race 9. Running out of ideas, we checked compression. Good compression on both sides. Ken pulled out his computer and we reflashed the ignition map. Tried the bike again. Still, not bueno.

Ken said, “We could swap out the carbs and try the 36’s.” At this point we both really felt like it was a fuel/carb issue. The motor was behaving like it wasn’t getting gas consistently. Sort of sputtering intermittently. Ken went to get the 36mm carbs out of his truck and I started removing the 38’s that we thought (hoped?) were the problem.

Race 8 started which meant “First Call Race 9!” was heard over the intercom system. When first call went out, Ken had one carb off and was removing the needle, plate and spring. I was removing the other carb.

“Second Call Race 9!” I started mounting the first carb while Ken was setting up the second one.

“Third Call Race 9!” At this point Ken was mounting the second carb while I connected the gas lines to each carb. Nicola Borbone walked by and I said, “Cola, stand there and hold the tank when Ken asks you to.” I ran into my toy hauler and threw all my gear on. When I came out of the toy hauler, the bike was back together and I heard the bikes all leaving the pit for their out lap. “I can start from Pit Lane and still do fine. We’ve got time!” I called as I clipped into my air vest. “Wait!” Ken said all of sudden. “New plugs.”

He grabbed new plugs while I pulled the old ones. Plugs in, we rolled the bike on to the starter and…….

No bueno.

The race started and we sat there dejected and defeated. I was so ready for a heroic last-minute scramble ending with me launching from Pit Lane. Alas, the heroic moment was not to be.

And with that, the TSR weekend was over. Ken packed up and headed home and I followed him a few hours later.

On Monday I brought the bike over to the shop and Ken quickly discovered the issue. His Facebook post tells the tale:

Finally in a cruel blow that just overshadows the entire weekend, on Monday we learned that Neil Jester’s best friend and track buddy Doug Geiger had a heart attack and died on Sunday evening while Neil was in the hospital. Doug was an amazing, friendly, enthusiastic man who was always pumping everyone else up. His exuberance for life and all things motorcycles was unmatched. Godspeed Doug.

And with that we’ve reached the absolute bottom of our bell curve.