Charlie Steinman's Mid-Ohio Race Report 2008

The following report is by Charlie Steinman at the Mid-Ohio Roadrace Course in July 2008.
Click for Charlie's 2007 race report.

So there I was . . .

Friday morning practice.

Fifth gear hard on the throttle the bike passing through the Ton, screaming down the long, long Mid Ohio back straight when the first inklings of a chassis shudder start deep in the rear tire.

Pulling the bike over to the right to sweep through the full-speed kink in the straight, the shudder feeds on itself and quickly grows up through the frame into the tree and down into the front tire and the bike evolves into a shuddering shaking living beast roughly screaming along at about 110 mph with me barely on top. Off-throttle, hard on the front brake at the end of the straight the shudder disappears as fast as it came on. Throw the bike over into the hard right-hander at the end of the straight, slide across the seat and throw the bike into the hard blind rising and falling left and the bike's rear tire slips out a bit but the bike lays over sweet and solid as ever.

Three practice laps, three bucking speed wobble experiences. Each above 100 mph and brought on by laying the bike over in the kink in the back straight. Under hard acceleration in the other short straights between turns and down the front straight which is all acceleration, no wobble.

So I retire to the pits to consider a gearing change I've decided to do since I spend almost a whole lap in fourth gear and see fifth quickly in the straights. Third gear is nowhere in sight and it should be at an exit or two on this track. The 17's too short for this track. Better for a short, tight track like Little Talladega. Mount the 18 at lunch.

But I'm bugged by the speed wobble. It comes on in a predictable fashion so I can ride through it, but during a race I'll be pushing for that little extra speed and holding it for as long as possible, just when the wobble is building. The problem and the answer lays somewhere in the racing Avons, the Ikon progressive springs in the front end, and the Ohlins rear shocks, because the stock bike at home doesn't do this. I've had that bike to an honest 120 mph and no wobble.

Back in the pits, I describe the wobble symptoms to Fred from California, my Thruxton buddy, and he nods his head and purses his lips mysteriously. But he says nothing. So I don't ask.

So I mosey over to my other buddy's pit, Duane, a red-faced wide-open fantastic guy from Illinois and he immediately starts into a rant about his past and ongoing struggles with his Thrux's speed wobble and his suspension upgrades and changes and differing spring-rates in the front end and shock-oil viscosities. I notice that the front end is off of his bike. It is being upgraded yet again by somebody in the paddock. I don't catch their name. Duane has problems but few answers.

So I don't sleep that night, troubled by frame geometry and shock dampening and the feel of that wobble coming from nowhere. By this time the wobble is the only thing on my mind.

At first light Fred finds me sitting in a chair at the rear of the bike, gazing at the rear tire and rear shocks and wondering from whence the wobble comes.

He walks up close behind and quietly asks a simple question: "You want to fix it? . . . I have a tool, follow me".

So from within the deep bowels of his van he pulls a clear plastic tube that contains two long stainless rods and caliper device. The rods mount through the hollow swing arm axle and through the hollow rear axle and the device uses the caliper to precisely align the rear axle with the swing arm axle.

Turns out that my rear axle, having been aligned using the rear sprocket's position in the chain links is about 3 millimeters out of alignment with the swing arm axle when magnified by the steel rods.

I'm delighted and thank Fred profusely. Note to self: bring a bottle of Texas wine for Fred at Sandia.

So there I was . . .

Saturday morning practice.

Fifth gear hard on the throttle the bike passing through the Ton, screaming down the long, long Mid Ohio back straight when . . . again . . . the first inklings of a chassis shudder start deep in the rear tire.

This time it's subtle. And it builds slower. And the frequency of the shudder is slower. And the amplitude is less. But it's there. It's still there.

Only one lap this time. Somebody's down and we're red-flagged back into the paddock.

So I retire to the pits to sulk in my chair at the rear of the bike and to consider frame geometry. An idea that had risen from my troubled dreams the night before is making more sense now. I mosey around to Garage 23 and start asking opinions about lowering the rear end to increase trail in the front wheel. Nobody thinks I'm nuts.

So I make my way back to the bike and drop 8 mm of preload out of each rear shock. I'm looking at how to lower the front forks in the tree. Fred quietly watches me do this from his chair near his bike. But he doesn't say anything.

So then I make my way over to the other Thruxton guys and start talking rear preloads and front fork heights like I know what I'm talking about. Reluctantly the stories and theories start to flow. Turns out that the first really, really fast guys on the Thruxtons, the professionals hired to run for the first year, found that they had to crank the rear preload way low, and they found that they had to push the forks as far down in the tree as possible, raising the front end as much as possible . . . rotating the chassis rearward as much as possible . . . increasing the front trail as much as possible, all to cure a speed wobble that comes on over the Ton. I notice for the first time that Duane now has his front forks set about 12 mm deeper into his tree than I do.

I don't have the time nor a front-end jack to push the forks deeper into the tree. And it's better to take one step and see. Then take another step. Not more than one change at a time.

So there I was . . .

Saturday's race. A four lap race because of all of the crashes.

Fifth gear hard on the throttle the bike passing through the Ton, screaming down the long, long Mid Ohio back straight when . . . again . . . barely an inkling of a chassis shudder starts deep in the rear tire.

But it's barely there this time. Just ignore it.

After my usual poor start and one lap, I've got two guys in front of me that I think I can beat, and Duane on my tail who I know can beat me.

On lap three I pass Dustin on the outside just after the blind left before the right into thunder valley. This left rises blind, then falls steeply before leveling into a sweeping fast right. In this turn the bike lifts and gets light after the rise and a lot of riders roll off too soon. The trick is to stay hard on the throttle through the blind and to then bang the front brake hard when the suspension re-compresses before the right hander. This will throw the bike wide after the sweeping right-hander setting up for the hard speed right into thunder valley.

Now past Dustin, I see Wik about 30 yards ahead. I'm pulling hard to catch him. I notice that he slows and is sweeping wide in the long right-hander before the front straight. The White Flag lap four starts with him still 20 yards ahead.

Down the back straight, he brakes way too soon and the 20 yards disappear. Through the next couple of turns I'm pushing the bike very hard and Wik's exhaust pipes are only feet from my face. They're loud. I want to run right through them.

At the fast right-hander into thunder valley I hear metal scraping beside me to the left. Glancing sideways left, Duane and his green Thrux are sliding into the gravel on the outside.

At the entrance to the long right-hander I hit it hotter than usual, Wik is slowing and sweeping wide, so I lay the bike over as far as possible, squeezing the inside past Wik, the front tire starts to push but stays, bike up sweeping back up to the left to close-off any daylight, full-throttle shifting hard through the tight left onto the front straight, I didn't see Wik again until the pits later.

On the cool-down lap, I wave to Duane over in the gravel, trying to pull his clip-ons straight.

Finished a hard 11th in a 14-rider field.

Slept well Saturday night.

So there I was . . .

Sunday's race. In theory, an eight lap race despite the crashes.

Green flag, roaring, shifting, four-wide crowding into the long, hard left at the end of the front straight, I'm against the inside line two-thirds at the back of the pack, when four feet in front of my front tire, Wik's rear tire slides out, grabs, and flings him off the bike to the outside and into the three riders crowding around the turn. His bike flips down, I see a hole of daylight to the left and lean the bike into it.

Guys are sitting up and following Wik's bike to the outside. Last I saw of Wik he was flying backwards and sideways through the air about waist high and slamming through the riders to the outside like a bowling ball.

That's all I see and he's gone. After making the daylight I'm hard on the throttle and shifting hard to clear the wreckage.

The red flags come out before the chicane.

We take our lap and back in the hot pits, we count the helmets and only Wik's is missing. An ambulance is blocking the track at the end of the front straight.

Ten minutes and we're sent back around to the grid to re-start. Wik's place in front of mine is very empty.

I ran the bike as hard as possible for those four laps. Passed Dustin in the same place. Never saw Duane. He was freaked and quit the race on the third lap claiming slippery tires. Another guy I never met tried to pass me on the last lap in thunder valley, couldn't stick it, then he low-side crashed to the outside in the long right-hander before the front straight. Didn't see him go down. Just heard the scraping sound of metal across asphalt right behind me.

Finished a hard 10th in a 13-rider field.

Loading the truck seems slow this time around. Didn't want to leave the emptying paddock. No hurry this time. A melancholy just seems to rise out of the ground and settle in. I think a lot of people felt it. Patman mentions it as we are saying good bye.

Across the huge, now-empty parking lot paddock, Wik's truck and trailer stand alone, his torn and broken bike having been loaded and his stuff packed by his buddies.

But alone.

C

Click for a short video.

This feature originally appeared in August 2008 - Updated: 06/21/10