The “Reality” of Road Racing Motorcycles
A guest editorial by Ryan Teixeira

Ryan Teixeira thought Road Racer X could use some more content from the privateer’s perspective, so we asked him to come up with some himself. Fortunately, he called our bluff. Here’s Ryan’s take on what it’s like for a road racing privateer.

Road racing motorcycles requires professional racers, pro-am racers like myself, and even the novices out there to overcome a set of variables that the average person would simply give up on—from dropping lap times to just finding the time to pick up a damn cylinder-base gasket on your lunch break. What separates a racer from the average citizen is perseverance and resiliency. It’s about aligning the stars! It’s about facing one’s own fears, emotions, and physical limits. It’s about everything broken—your body, your bike, and your spirit—yet not giving up. Never. We put our heads down, and we use our minds to plan and strategize to make it back on that grid. We have the will of warriors, the hearts of four-year-old boys, and a spirit that is contagious enough for potential sponsors to, amazingly, give us money (sometimes).

For example, when the race weekend is over and it’s time to pack up and go home, the racing doesn’t stop. I’m still racing, trust me. In fact, the second I leave my eccentric racing buddies and the two empty five-gallon pales of Ultimate 4 in the overfilled trash can, I realize what I’ve done, who I am, and what I need to do. I reflect on it over and over again during the long drive home, glancing in the rearview mirror, seeing my twisted, crashed-out bike in the back looking so very, very sad, yet imagining it all back together and ripping through turn 2 faster than before.

The glorified misery of crashing definitely assists with the manic-depressive cycles. Even Jack, my smiling buddy on the truck antenna, is pouting. But I have a pinch of Copenhagen in the left cheek, Audioslave blaring on the stereo, and, not surprisingly, there’s contentment lingering in my center, a sweet satisfaction, the knowing that I gave it my absolute all. Giving my all is fueled by this relentless passion for the most challenging, individual sport in which I have ever competed. Road racing motorcycles.

It takes a passionate individual to eat Top Ramen, Safeway generic instant oatmeal, and countless dozens of eggs for most of the off-season, all in an attempt to save enough money for tires. At about $275-330 a set, tires are the largest racing expense, depending on your pimp.

It’s simple: No money for new tires equals a very high possibility that one mistake will cost not just damage to the bike, but damage to the most treasured asset of all: one’s self-confidence. There’s always the probability that in a split second, the season can be literally tossed away—gone, vanished because of one poor economic decision. And after the pain and frustration dissolves, you realize that if all of the other guys ahead of you in the points were to crash out, too, you still might have a chance.…

The above scenario is what most racers without substantial financial backing have to deal with every race weekend, and they have enough passion to say, “So what? I’ll smoke those fools with my shod tires. I can do it … I think.” And those individuals are the ones who eventually climb their way to the front.

Plus, wasn’t that the real point of giggling all winter long on the little XR100 dirt bike with your buddies, completely out of control? To evolve the skills that have answers to a set of tired tires poking you on the shoulder, saying, “Looky here, buddy, I’m sliding all over the place. Do you really want me to be doing this?” Wasn’t it the point of practicing flat tracking on the CRF450R Supermoto on slicks … in the dirt? To a normal person, this may sound a little stupid, but to an aspiring racer, it makes terrible sense.

Blowing out the left shoulder on the TT track during Christmas wasn’t for nothing, right? Or those restless nights writing down thoughts on how you can muster a second or two at each and every track? Drawing graphs and so on? Ridiculous, I know, but wasn’t it the point? Or what about annoying all of your friends and family with your constant chatter about how you need to go ride? No, seriously. Right now!

Yeah, it is the point. It’s the passion that takes over when individuals believe in themselves enough to forego conventional logic and wisdom and risk it all on their ability, training, and hope—despite the fact that the equipment is far from being the best; despite the fact that you got only two hours of sleep because you spent all night putting your bike together after your little whoopsie-daisy during practice the day before; despite the fact that the tires are two races old. We’re the weekend warriors, the passionate ones, the ones continually inspiring each other to evolve and grow, to crack open the throttle sooner, to move that brake marker deeper, and to knuckle up and ride our piece-of-crap bikes to the limits ... on shod tires.

See you at Infineon Raceway, May 13-14!