Miles traveled: 5800
Days spent: 14
Hours ridden: 13
Races entered: 4
Top-ten finishes: 2
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
“Y’all c’n sit wherever y’like,” beamed the charming, southern-belle waitress. Her slow accent only added drool to the pile of jaws we had just dropped on the floor. We all looked at each other, and everyone had the same expression: We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Of course, we had only actually been in Kansas for about thirty minutes of the fifty-five-and-a-half hours we’d been on the road. The drive from Kirkland, Washington to Braselton, Georgia is about 2900 miles, give or take a hundred depending on the route you choose. Make that trip hauling six racebikes, a whole lotta equipment and one big Harley, and it takes a while. Corey Baum and I, along with rig owner Doug and crew chief Kevin, did just that a few weeks ago for the 2008 WERA Grand National Finals at Road Atlanta.
The Grand National Finals are the culmination of the various WERA regional and national series. They are held in conjunction with the Suzuki Cup, and are “invite only” – in order to compete, you must earn an invitation to do so by scoring high enough in one of the WERA Regional championships, or by competing in either the National Challenge or National Endurance championships. I had earned my invitation with my June finishes in the Las Vegas and Miller National Challenge rounds, and Corey had earned his through both the same National Challenge rounds and also his points total in the WERA West regional championship.
We arrived a full three days before the GNFs began, in order to recover from the drive and to meet Corey’s uncle Walt, who lives not far from the track. Walt welcomed us with the epitome of southern hospitality and showed us all around town, but his first order of business was to insist that we get some “good home-style Joeja’ cookin’” for breakfast. So we did, and after smiling bemusedly at our reaction to her greeting, that waitress brought us such a breakfast as I had never seen before in my life: Eggs, bacon, sausage, omelettes, toast, french toast, pancakes piled high as a juice glass, and grits, a food which previously I had only heard stories about. I tell you, I can count the number of times I’ve eaten so well on one hand and still have fingers left over. Little did we know at the time that the hospitality and kindness demonstrated by Walt, that waitress and that breakfast would be echoed by everyone we met throughout the entire week.
Monday morning found us up bright (well, dark, really) and early, already at the track and setting up our pits for the main reason we arrived prior to the races: Kevin Schwantz’ Suzuki School. Corey and I met our instructors and the other riders, and were placed into the “A” group along with two other racers and the more advanced trackday riders. Our group was up on the track first and after a brief classroom introduction to the school, off we went to see the track for ourselves.
Road Atlanta is the perfect medium between an all out, pin-it-to-the-limit brass-balls power track and an intricate, technical rider’s track where sophisticated local knowledge is paramount. It has fast wide-open sweepers and tight dance-on-your-toes chicanes, positive and negative camber turns, and enough blind corners to elicit near-constant prayers to whatever god you believe in. Corey and I were assigned together to an instructor who led us around and showed us the lines one by one, switching between us every other lap or so. By lunch, we had a good grasp of the lines and were working on driving our brake markers deeper and carrying more and more speed through the corners.
The Schwantz School has an excellent video portion to its instruction: One of its instructors (in our case Trey Batey) follows students around the racetrack with a camera mounted on his bike, so that when those students come in for their classroom session, both they and their instructors get to review and comment on what was going on out on the track. Their video feedback was instrumental in how quickly Corey and I initially got up to speed – we could immediately see where we were running a little too wide, or not setting up correctly for a series of corners, anything. The next session out we could correct those problems and know precisely where we needed to be and what we needed to be doing. With its help, we both had all our lines and reference points nailed down in the afternoon of the first day and were extremely comfortable exploring what we expected to be the most important passing zones.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
On Tuesday, the second day of the school, the instructors led the students for only the warmup laps, and then instead followed us so they could watch and give in-person feedback. Corey and I both immediately jumped on the opportunity, as by the end of the day prior we had been nipping on our instructor’s heels and trying to push them deeper and deeper into the braking zones without breaking the rules and actually passing them. Once unleashed, I immediately drove harder and faster into each corner than I had the day before, but also reverted back to the hard-braking point-and-shoot cornering style I’d learned at Pacific Raceway instead of the flowing, higher-corner-speed style needed to keep up at Road Atlanta. It took a couple sessions of confidence-building and some prodding from our instructor Brad, but eventually I kept myself off the brake and instead trusted on my tires and sheer faith to pull me through in one piece. Lo and behold, I flew through turn one faster and lower to the ground than I’d ever imagined, my Bridgestone BT-003Rs holding solid with nary even a wiggle (on their street compound no less).
By the end of the second day, Corey and I were flying around the track, diving hard and deep into corners, lofting the front over turns five and twelve, and dicing back and forth making our instructor really work to stay with us. At the end of our final session, even he came in with an enormous grin on his face, shouting “HOT D***, that was fun!!” Finally, as the light waned and day became night, Will Grenier and Brian Trudeau flew in like the rock stars they are and we all moved our bikes to the infield pits used by WERA and the AMA.
Wednesday morning: Day 1 of the 2008 WERA Grand National Finals. Overnight, the empty pits had turned into a bustling jungle of double-decker race trailers, brightly colored tents, growling, snarling racebikes, mountains of tires, and… rain.
Torrential, downpouring rain.
Our initial disappointment at the weather quickly turned to buzzed excitement as we realized that, being from “The Great Northwet”, these were extremely favorable conditions for us. The 600 Superbike qualifying session that afternoon was virtually guaranteed to be wet, and we would likely be the fastest people on the track. As it turned out… we were.
Most of the paddock chose to sit the day out and hope for better weather during the actual races. Those that did venture out onto the track did so timidly, afraid of the rain and the potential to wreck out before their actual races. Corey and I, on the other hand, had the circuit as our playground, and did our best to both lead Will and Brian around to show them lines and also to study a new section of track that would be used in the races. The Bridgestone rains that I brought along, on “the off chance that it’ll rain”, did a phenomenal job of keeping my pavement-magnet bike and leathers upright and gave me rock-solid grip and confidence-inspiring feedback everywhere. The more I rode, the more excited I was for qualifying that afternoon – I would be on pole without so much as a contest.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
Fortune would not have it so, however. As the day went on, it became apparent that it was going to rain harder, not less, and pools began to form in certain sections of the track. Most of the riders that had been out in the morning retired due to the harder rain, and although I did not, I definitely switched from “practice” to “play” mode, just going out to have some fun. It was becoming extremely easy to hydroplane through the esses and there was a stream cutting across the track at turn 7, an area which is already a off-camber and a highside hot spot. Eventually WERA ended up cancelling the afternoon qualifying sessions, and although I was extremely disappointed, I think they ultimately made the right decision: Simply circulating the track was becoming a hairy affair. A qualifying session would not have proved at all who was fastest; it would have only proved was who was lucky enough not to become or get taken out by a sliding missile. So, with qualifying cancelled and inches of water in some places on the track, we called it a day and wrapped up.
Thursday morning it rained again… so we went back to sleep.
Friday it was finally dry, allowing me to put in some much-needed hot laps on the R6, on the WERA track configuration. I swapped tires and got ready early so that I could make the most of the few sessions I’d get – Friday was also the first day of the Sportsman championship – and went out to do some business. WERA ran a track configuration that differed from the Schwantz School in one section, adding a short chicane at the beginning of the esses. The difference was challenging enough that I couldn’t quite find a rhythm for it and so was slow into, through and out of it all day on Wednesday. If I was going to keep up with the competition, I would have to figure it out.
Taking advantage of the fact that everyone was still cold and stiff from the morning, I spent several laps going very slow through the section, doing nothing but studying how it turned, felt, cambered and dipped. One of the most common problems with trying to learn a new track and go fast on it at the same time is tunnel vision – people (myself included) will find a line that “works” and then concentrate on being faster on that one, instead of looking around for other, potentially faster lines. By going slow and studying the track as I traveled through it, I was able to see several places where I could straighten my line and carry much more speed into and out of the chicane. After practicing on that for a while, another problem became apparent: Body position. Usually my riding style has me hanging far off the bike, allowing me to corner faster and keep more grip than if I didn’t hang off. However in this chicane, that was hurting me, as I had to switch directions several times and it took me too much time to move my entire body. After spending a few laps following and studying the faster riders, I learned to simply stand up on the pegs and flip the bike from side to side underneath me. By staying in the center and intentionally “crossing up”, I would reduce my maximum available lean angle, but in this case it didn’t matter as this section would never approach that and the extra flickability was much more critical. By the time practice was over, I was comfortable enough through the chicane to be confident that even though I might not win the race there, I wouldn’t lose it there either. Afterward, I peeled out of my leathers and kicked back to watch Corey whip some butt in his Sportsman races.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
That night, Kevin threw an epic barbeque. In addition to being our Crew Chief, he was also in charge of making sure we were well fed, and he was excelling in his duties. Every morning we had a hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, and orange juice, and every night we ate like kings. On this particular evening, he started grilling up some burgers and was finished with the first batch before we’d returned from watching the races in the back sections of the track. Rather than let them get cold, he put ‘em on buns and started feeding our neighbors in the pits. By the time we got back there was a veritable cookout in our lot, complete with music! All sorts of people were there, from halfway across the pits and even further – we had racers, builders, crew chiefs, even corner workers coming over to eat. Even Josh Hayes, whose wife Melissa was racing with us that weekend, stopped in for a burger and a chat. Needless to say, it was a pretty cool demonstration of what a few burgers and some generosity can create 
7 AM, Saturday morning. It was hard to wake up, and I was nervous. It was only four months prior that I’d debuted onto a national circuit, and the butterflies had become no weaker. In that span of time I’d grown as a racer and scored a new ride, learned raced on five different tracks, and had several podiums and a handful of wins to my name.. but I still felt like the little kid dressed up in Dad’s clothes. This wasn’t just another race, this was the Grand National Finals.. this was big. Bigger than me. I didn’t eat much that morning.
Thankfully, I wasn’t here alone. I had brought with me nine friends, and over the last week I’d made countless others among the pits. Kevin helped me finish a few things off that still needed to be done to my bike, then Will went with me to grab grid positions from registration, and by the time we were all ready, the butterflies were all but gone. We went out for practice to warm ourselves up for the day, then sat back and waited.
600 Superstock: The grid was enormous. The flag waved and I got a terrible start, relegating myself immediately to the back. The pack was thick and passing was difficult all the way to the back half of the course, where the long back straight finally strung the bikes out and made it possible to move without hitting someone. I put my absurdly powerful Fuzimoto-built motor to work and drafted past two riders on the back straight, and was on the tail of the next by the time we hit the brakes, squeezing them for dear life as we slowed from the top of sixth gear all the way down to second. I tailed him for a few laps, showing a wheel anywhere I could, but he was as stubborn in keeping his position as I was in taking it. Finally I managed to squeeze past on the brakes when he made a mistake in turn 12, and I immediately put my head down to get as much distance between us as I could. He was as much a pit bull as I was and would not let go however, and we battled for the rest of the race back and forth. We ended up advancing several positions in the race simply due to attrition ahead of us, and I crossed the finish line just a few bike lengths ahead, in 21st position.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
750 Superstock: I was determined not to blow the start again. When the flag waved, I shot forward like a rocket and … still got passed by most of the field. Clearly, these boys knew what they were doing. I put my head down and started out more aggressively than during the 600 race, and was rewarded with several passes in the first lap. I kept up the pace and pushed forward in the pack, but two problems quickly materialized: First, I had not sufficiently tightened my Vortex clip-on, and the force with which I was whipping the bike from side to side was slowly but steadily wrenching the bar closer and closer to the tank, limiting my ability to work the controls. The second and much more serious problem, however, was that my R6 was losing power, fast. I began to get passed on the straights by bikes I could normally blow by without even drafting. I tried to fight back in the corners and on the brakes and make myself as wide as possible, but it was a losing battle, and ended up crossing the line second to last, in 16th. On the cool-down lap, my heart sunk as I let the bike ease up and I heard that it sounded like an SV once it wasn’t screaming at 16,000 rpm.
Back in the pits, I parked the bike and went to watch for a while, trying to put thoughts of what could be wrong out of my head. When I finally came back to the bike, I went hunting for parts and expertise, and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Gino of Zyvax Racing and Chip of KWS Motorsports for lending me parts, supplies and hours of expertise. With their help, we determined which cylinder wasn’t firing, and began running diagnostics and tests to find the problem. Soon enough, we found that it had zero compression – a problem that I would not be able to fix until I got home, knocking me out of the races on Sunday. Dejectedly, I cleaned up and put the bike away, trying to hide my disappointment from myself and those around me, and then went to bed.
An hour later, Brandon Bones was standing over me in the dark, trying to get my attention. “Get up,” he repeated.
“Hunh?”
“Do you want an AMA bike tomorrow or not?”
I paused, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying.
“I suppose I should put on some pants, then.”
Fast forward to 7 am, Sunday morning: I was wide awake and had been for half an hour, eagerly anticipating the truck that was just then pulling up to our pits. Chad Herrmann, AMA #71, hopped out of the truck and unloaded his white Lucky 7 Racing R6, along with a set of tires and a barrel of fuel. The previous night, Brandon had wandered the pits, looking for anyone who would have a spare bike on Sunday. Chad listened and immediately offered his bike up, as he lived not far away and wasn’t riding. The end result: I would be riding a fully-built, regular-AMA-top-ten professional’s race bike for 600 and 750 Superbike. We got Chad’s bike teched as fast as we could, swapped tires, fueled up and made it to the gate just in time for the first of the two ten-minute practice sessions I would get that morning. I went out very cautiously but was soon extremely comfortable flipping the bike side to side and enjoying the wonder that is full aftermarket suspension. By the time practice was over, I had already beaten my best time from the day prior and felt very ready for the races that afternoon.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
600 Superbike: I was gridded at the very back for 600 Superbike, because in lieu of qualifying, WERA did the grids based on season points, of which I had very few. Luckily, the superbike grids were not as large as the superstock ones, so it would not be such a tangle in the first few laps. The flag waved and I took off, getting a decent drive but still getting forced back by the more aggressive riders in the first few turns. I tried to keep the aggression and red mist reined in during this race, as it was not my bike I was riding and putting so much as a scratch on it would mean that it would become my bike, and lots of my money would become not my money. Because of this I actually rode more smoothly, however, and ended up passing several riders anyway. When I finished the race and came into the pits, Kevin was whooping and hollering – I finished 7th! I could hardly believe it. However, Chad himself came over to congratulate me on my finish, and even laughed when I told him I had been trying not to push it. Admonishing me that he didn’t lend me the bike so that I could do laps, he said to get out there and race.
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
750 Superbike: With those words of encouragement still in my mind, I told myself I’d get out there and see what I could do. I didn’t expect much, however, as most of the bikes alongside me on this grid would outclass me by 20 to 30 hp. Still, when the green flag dropped, I let out the clutch and shot forward, and this time I didn’t back off into turn 1. Instead of being the sheep, I was the wolf, and I went from the back of the grid to mid-pack in one turn. I kept it tight to the inside and got on the gas hard on the exit, hard enough to lift the front wheel cresting the hill, and then prepared for another squeeze entering the chicane and the esses. I glued myself to the bike in front of me and made full use of the pro suspension to straighten the chicane, running rumble strip to rumble strip, then powering down through the chicane and up to to turn five. I took the bike in front of me on the exit of five, widening it to make use of the rumble strips again. Man, is good suspension good! The next bike in line was a full corner or so ahead of me, so I put my head down to make up some ground. I didn’t manage to reel him any closer before we hit the massive back straight, however, and with his power advantage he put a lot of distance between us. I would have to make it up on the brakes. Thankfully, the brakes on this bike were the most powerful I’ve ever felt, thanks to incredibly firm Performance Friction Sintered Carbon pads. Slowing for turn ten, the pucker-inducing sixth-gear-to-second hard left I mentioned earlier, I made up some of the ground I lost on the straight and then made up more again coming into turn twelve, a hard downhill right which is far steeper than it looks on TV. Another couple laps of that made short work of the gap, and I was soon drafting him down the back straight, trying as hard as I could to tuck into his bubble so I could keep up. By that time he knew I was behind him, however, and had moved his brake markers up to prevent me from getting past. I peeked up the inside every corner I could for another couple laps, but he always managed to close the door and stave me off. Finally, coming into turn ten, he overcooked it and ran off into the gravel, luckily staying upright. I nearly followed him straight in, only barely managing to rip my eyes off of him and back to the exit of the corner. After a brief moment to collect myself, I began charging ahead again, trying to find whoever was ahead of me, but within a lap or two my rear tire began to move around. Normally it wouldn’t really bother me, as I’m used to the rear stepping out, but then again, normally I’m racing my own bike. So, content with my performance so far and not wanting to take any risks that weren’t needed, I decided to play it safe and simply keep the position I was in. It was just as well, as just a few laps later the race was over – with a finish of 7th place for me again!
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
I was ecstatic. Two seventh-place finishes, at the Grand National Finals, on somebody else’s bike?? Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think that could happen. Yet, with the help of my pit mates and the friends we made in Atlanta, it did. We loaded up Chad’s bike back into his trailer, returned the gas I hadn’t used, thanked him over and over and over, and then turned our attention to loading and cleaning up our pits, as my race was our last of the day. Our group spent one last night at Corey’s uncle’s place, thanked him profusely as well, and then we all split our various ways to either the airport or the long road home.
So now as we drive, I think of all the people who made this weekend possible for me – there are so many. Corey Baum for organizing the trip, and along with Will Grenier and Brian Trudeau, goading me into coming. Brandon Bones, for conning me into doing WERA in the first place. John Baum and Doug Krekow for making getting there a possibility. My brother Kevin, for coming along just for the ride and making sure we were set with anything we needed, be it food or an extra wrench. Walt and Barb, Corey’s uncle and aunt, for opening to us their arms, house and even toy hauler. Dmitry Akhutin, for lending me both a Suzuki to ride in the Schwantz School and a new Dainese race suit, without so much as a second thought. Troy McCrae for lending me his boots, not to mention some kick-ass tires! My friend (and now manager) Katie Perry, and my girlfriend Lauren, for flying down to watch and pat my back, even after my bike blew up. Gino from Zyvax and Chip from KWS, for helping me try to fix it. Chad Herrmann, for lending me his to use after we figured out I couldn’t. Mike McLane, for uncountable hours spent helping me do everything to turn it into a full-on, gorgeous-paint-job race bike from the showroom floor. Mike Castro of Fuzimoto, for turning it into a rocket. My teammates: Eric Anderson, Randy Bailey, Eric Featherstone, Chris Fratini and Kevin Klemmer, for supporting and encouraging me throughout the year and helping me paint, fix, or otherwise just do, everything that needed to be done. All my sponsors, always, for everything they do for me: Studio819 Photography, PNWRiders.com, Pennell Powersports and Bridgestone, Adrenaline Freaks Track Days, V-holdR Cameras, RaceTech Suspension, MorePower Racing, Powerstands, Vortex, Motorex Fluids, Pipercross Filters and Junior Monkey Design. This is by no means exhaustive – I’m certain I’ve forgotten someone somewhere and I feel terrible for the possibility, because without all the help I truly would not be able to live this dream. They are the heroes, so support me in supporting them in any way you can!
Chris Sarbora @ Road Atlanta, 2008
