“Don’t jump, don’t jump! You’ll die!”, I thought as the rear wheel fought for traction, sliding out of the corkscrew. I suffer from intrusive thoughts, but on the back of a race-spec Suzuki GSX-R1000R piloted by a retired MotoAmerica racer, Chris Ulrich, was a bad time to get them—mainly because I was having the time of my life.
But that’s not where the story starts.
Back in July, I went to a MotoAmerica weekend at Laguna Seca to see what all the fuss was about. But before I got a real taste of the racing, I was a part of the action in the form of a Two-Up ride on a Dunlop ECSTAR Suzuki GSX-R1000R with Chris, who’d logged nearly two decades as a pro rider.
Pretty genius move to have this at all the MotoAmerica events, and that’ll become abundantly clear. On the day, however, I almost wanted to give it a miss.
After a 4:00 am start, a 400-mile ride, 15,000-plus steps, and two interviews in roasting temperatures, I realized I wasn’t in the best shape or mood to hang off a superbike around Laguna Seca.
Thankfully, my Irishnesses kicked in. I felt an overbearing sense of guilt and ungratefulness, which led to having one of the most memorable experiences, not of the weekend, but of my life.
I Could Qualify For MotoAmerica
Still in a mindset of conflict about wanting to make the most of this experience but unsure of how physically able I was, myself and the other passengers started signing forms and getting briefed. In many ways, the brief helped reassure me that, even after a crazy day, I’d be able for the ride.
There was just one thing the person giving the brief said that kicked my spidey senses into overdrive, and it went something along the lines of, “This isn’t a regular GSX-R1000R with slicks. It’s a MotoAmerica race-spec superbike with a pillion seat. And the rider is an ex-pro. Even with you on the back, he could still qualify for tomorrow’s race.”
My internal conflict was so silly. I basically didn’t want to do the ride unless I felt I could give it my all, and in turn, allow Chris to ride as fast as he could with me.
We were instructed about how to tell Chris if the speed was good for us, if we wanted him to slow down, or if we wanted him to stop altogether. Although the last thing I wanted to do was tell him to slow down because my body couldn’t take the G-force, at least I knew I wasn’t going to put us in danger if it was too much.
All we had to do to slow down was give Chris a squeeze. All we had to do to go as fast as he wanted was hold on.
I did not squeeze.
The Ride of My Life
With laser focus, I hopped on the back and found my anchor points before one of the staff shouted, “Experienced rider on the back.”. My mind raced, “Wait, what? He didn’t say that for anyone else. Why did he do that? What’s about to happen?”
Thankfully, Chris didn’t try to blow the leathers off me pulling out of pit lane. I don’t think he was trying to, but it scared the shit out of me in terms of vulnerability. I also don’t think most riders like being passengers, so before I had too much time to think about my comfort level, we were at the first turn. Well, more specifically, we entered the first braking zone for the Andretti Hairpin.
Unsure of how to position myself without a gas tank to squeeze, I fortified my body against the passenger grab rails like I was bracing for impact, and before I knew it, I was instinctively looking over Chris’s left shoulder as we rounded the corner, fighting the urge to put my knee down.
Snap, I was locked in.
The first lap was impressive in terms of the physical forces but not overbearing. It was perfect because I got to experience Laguna Seca from the best seat at the track and take in the racing lines and sights I’d seen so many times from behind a screen.
Thankfully, I had the sense to take it all in because the second lap didn’t afford me that luxury.
I think this is where the “Experienced rider on the back” came into play.
The first time we entered the Andretti Hairpin, the speedo went from 96 mph to 45 mph, but on the second lap, it went from 130 mph to 50 mph. I’ve never experienced such braking forces. I’m sure that was partially because I was bracing myself with my arms on a passenger fuel tank grab bar, but it was mainly down to the machine I was on and the rider who was operating it. I felt like the grab rails wanted to split my palms in half. Then, we were at lean once again.
I had felt this lean angle before, I think, and my head had been this low to the ground. But never with such speed and precision. It was like going into a meditative state when you’re deeply engulfed in a movie, that was until Chris picked the bike up with the accelerator, and I was ferociously pulled out of my meditative state.
Firing out of turn two and getting set up for turn three was when I got that uppercut of race-spec acceleration. The feeling I didn’t get out of pit lane, and one I’d never felt before. Now, the grab rail wanted to tear through all eight of my fingers. It was amazing.
But the acceleration, braking, straight-line speed, and even lean angle all paled in comparison to one sensation: the slide.
I’ve had very minor, slow slides on asphalt before, but they were worlds away from this. I’d liken the physical and mental sensations to being on a simple suspension bridge swaying in between over a valley. It produced the same intrusive thoughts, too—”Don’t jump, don’t jump, you’ll die”.
It’s not that I didn’t trust Chris—I just didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how anyone could play with grip like that while my ass was on the back and at that speed. By the time I understood that he could just do this and allow myself to be fully accepting of the sensation, we were pulling into pit lane.
As Close as You’ll Get
My amateur racing career has just begun, and I don’t know what I’ll experience over the next few years of racing, but I highly doubt I’ll feel that level of controlled sliding played on repeat ever again. The vast majority of riders never will. This realization made me understand MotoAmerica’s Two-Up riding experience is as close as ordinary folks can get to experiencing what MotoGP riders do.
It might sound ridiculous, but it’s not.
Chris didn’t ride in MotoGP, and a GSX-R1000R is lightyears behind premier-class machinery, even a race-spec unit. But show me another rider with his skill level, putting people on the back of a bike specked-out like this Suzuki and ripping and sliding it around the top tracks in the US every race weekend. You can’t. This is as close as you’ll get to feeling what the top riders in the world do.
There are special MotoGP and Moto-E events where some people get the chance to experience even more than I did. But these events are so rare that they’re hardly worth talking about.
MotoAmerica played a blinder by introducing the Two-Up experience at race events. Not only do you get to experience the highest level of performance you’ll probably ever feel on a motorcycle, but you also get to choose from the top tracks in the US. It’s a double whammy.
Yes, it costs $350, but for all those people who say, “Don’t buy things, buy experiences.”, this is an example of them being absolutely correct. And, if you need any more justification, the money is donated to the Roadracing World Action Fund, which is dedicated to reducing rider injuries. I can’t give you any more excuses, just go and do it.
