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clutch
09-22-2005, 03:15 PM
My last day at New Hampshire International speedway. (Next week) <_<

Autumn Asphalt Asswiping its that time of year that brings a tear to my eye
Not because of the fact that the foliage is so beautiful. Nope!
Not because the track is closing! Nope!

No sir, It because the track surface temp is too friggn cold.

This regional phenomenon know as“Ctawda” An old Native American (P.C.?)
Term that is pronounced “Cat-a-wa-da” stands for:

Colder Than A Well Diggers Ass.

Yeap, this “Ctawda” effect creeps in overnight like some unseen prankster and quietly blows cold air all over the land surfaces. (Which reminds me of another story, later)

And ya’ know you would have never have even known it happened.
No sir! The morning sun would be shinning, the birds would be singing, bugs would be buzzing and the coffee would have taken a serious hold of the central nervous system by know.

Then add the following:

The smell of both raw and spent fuel fills the air. (This also feeds into the C.N.S.)
Stir in the acoustical effects of a bunch well tuned machinery.
The visual effect of a tightly held green flag.

You have all the makings of A.A.A. comin’ your way!

The flag drops………….
The clutch dumps………………… (I love that friggin’ name, clutch)
The front wheel lifts slightly………………………..
And you’re off, banging bars for position. freakin
The first turn is crowed and slow.
You come out and the crowd thins out a bit.
Turn two, a little faster, a little less people.
You come out, single file now.
Feeling good.
Heart pumping and you have forgotten about that piss you wanted to back at the line. :blink2:
Straight away dead a head with a few riders out in front.
You throttle up, you start to close gaps, and pass others. freakin

“There were flames comin' from out of the side;
you could feel the tension; man, what a ride.” (C.C.) (I'll let you guy's take a crack at that line)

You suddenly notice you’re alone. There seems to be no one to really focus on in front of you now.
And you are not sure but you sense that there is a pretty good size spread between you and the last guy you passed.

And you think to yourself, “This is the balls!” :P

You look ahead, and turn three is just ahead, you know it well. Your body goes into auto-pilot and sets itself up to assume the position (for the turn).

Throttle back…
Click down…… (Shift)
Ride in on the comp,………
Leg extends..............................
Lay over.......................................
Contact ... (foot)..............................
All's well, backin' in. (so far)
Back tire starts to break........ (Slide)..Normal.............

Now here is when your day changes, :unsure:

Somewhere between your ass and your brain, there is a communications breakdown. Which shocks me every time? Because the two spend so much time together. :wacko:

It is here that the ass should tell the brain, "No throttle, moron, I feel the slide is about to break loose". bitchin

The brain only sees open track on the other side of the turn and tells hand to crank! freakin
You get the picture?

Then it happens, tractions breaks, due to the cool surface temp. As you watch your bike slide out of the turn, across the track you think to yourself what you need to pick up at the store, milk, bread, eggs, beer…………. :huh:

Your concentration is suddenly interrupted by your ass that has now decided to speak! “It’s getting pretty f_ _ king hot down here.”
caged
Hence: Autumn Asphalt Asswipe.

Your fellow track mates gracefully make their way around you and your bike. It is usually the front of the pack that will give the international sign of brotherly love as they make their way through the turn. dafinger

So you stand up,
Pick up,
Start up,
And take off, a little wiser and a little warmer. and with a tear in your eye you think to yourself, this is the Balls!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Clutch,........Out! (I love that Sh _ t)

Gig_em
09-22-2005, 03:29 PM
Thanks, clutch! That was a nice read.