Budman Racing and Early Years HooliganTales

[budman]

Who’s yard am I in?

Running from the law does not always mean they are on your tale, but it does mean things can happen. This is one of those cases.

I was in a residential neighborhood going way to fast. Guessing 65 in a 25.
In this incident I passed by an Officer going the other way. I knew I was going way to fast and looking in my mirror I knew he was going to cite me as hit lights went on and I just had a “Oh shit” moment.

Normally when you have a lead so to speak it is a mix of turns to get away. Parks, bike paths etc. all give a motorcycle the advantage of being able to access. So whether it is left, left, right or right, left, right, right etc.. the goal is to get out of the officers line of sight ASAP! In this case.. I screwed up.

So.. after the lights went on I made a quick right. I noted that the next cross street was a ¼ mile away and I did not know if I had that much time so I took the first right and BAM..!!!

I turned into a cul-de-sac!!! Damn. I quickly analyzed turning around and thought there is not enough time to do that.. so options:
• Pull over and take my medicine
• Try to hide

I chose try to hide of course.

So I went to the far right corner where there was no car in the driveway. I zipped up to the side yard, opened the gate and pushed the bike in. Just as the gate swung shut I heard the Cop car screech around the corner. Damn… now he has me evading so on a quick evaluation I knew I needed to do something. I chose one of the most crazy things ever. I chose to walk out the gate and go to the front door of the residence.

So I opened the gate walked across the driveway towards the front door. The Officer was right in front of the driveway with his window rolled down looking at me. I sheepishly waved and kept walking. He yelled at me to come over and I went up to his window. My mind was going a mile a minute at that point. The conversation looked something like this:

Officer: “Did you see me back there?”

Me: “No sir.. where?”

Officer: “Back there on Louis Rd. You flew by me going about 70”.

Me: “Oh… no. I was not going that fast. I was probably speed though sorry”.

Officer: “So you were not running from me?”

Me: “ Noooo!”

Officer: “What are you doing here?” knowing full well my bike was in the yard.

Me: “Came to see a friend for lunch”.

Officer: “Oh.. OK you need to slow down!”

Me: “Yes sir!!”

Now at this point he did not move. He waited for me to go to the door….staring.

I was OMG OMG.. as I walked up to a strangers door knowing I could be hosed by a housewife greeting a stranger with a Policeman behind him.
I quickly ran through scenarios in my mind on what to say.

“Hi Mam… The police are going to give me a ticket” – nah…

“Hi Mam… Is Eric here?” Is what I settled on. With a response of “There is no Eric that lives here” getting the response “Oh, sorry I must have the wrong house”.

I also had thought about fake knocking..:laughing but I knew the office had his window down so that would not fly so I knocked in standard terms where he could hear it.

Some nervous seconds…. No response.. THANK GOD!!!

I shrugged my shoulders..and walked back to the gate, opened it up, rolled the bike out kicked it to life and rode by the Officer waving.

My heart was pumping and I was filled with thoughts of I am so damn lucky!

Luck.. Go figure! :teeth

 

[budman]

A horse trailer changed the path of my life

This story starts with playing high school football.
I loved playing football, the competition, the comraderie the challenge.

We had just finished up the week of double days and the Saturday scrimmage would decide who played on Varsity and who played JV.

After the scrimmage it was time to celebrate no more two a day practices. A friend and I talked about riding up to Felt Lake in Palo Alto and burning one while chilling.

So Bruce jumped on the back of my RD and we headed up. It is not far into the hills and while the lake is private we had a high school path in. Afterwards we headed back to PA.

On the way down we were frolicking down the road as we came to the hill that signaled a long straight way to the stop sign at the bottom. Knowing that I wicked it up a bit and we crested the hill to a shocking sight.

A pickup truck towing a horse trailer was pulling into a driveway just on the other side from the other lane. The whole road was BLOCKED and there was little time to react.

I grabbed a handful of brakes and stomped on the back to in a real test of true PANIC braking!

Bruce was not wearing a helmet.. and I had flashes of his demise, while noticing a young boy in the passenger side window with a shocked look on his face staring wide eyed at me.

I figure I was going about 60mph when I crested the hill and had maybe 80' to stop. My next thought was don't hit one of the steel piece that wrapped up and over the trailer and BAM!!!

Broadsided it missing the steel channel and impacting the sheet metal in between. Bruce used me as a human air bag and when we hit smooshed me in harder than I would have without him.

Then began the rebound. I literally bounce off doing a back flip and during that my helmet flew off. When I hit the ground I knew I was hurt, but I was conscious and Bruce was OK quickly running over to me. I noted my bikes seat open and 3 doobies under the battery strap.. :laughing. I told him to grab those and he did quickly. Soon I saw the blond kid and his Dad and an older sister looking down at me. She was hot. :leghump

Ambulance called.. hospital trip and a broken collar bone. No more football was my first thought and the second was my Dad said if I crashed he would sell the bike. Needless to say the first thing I said to him when he came in the hospital room was "DAD DON"T SELL THE BIKE!!!"

Ok flash forward a week. Back to school, but not only could not play football I was sent to the special needs PE class. It felt a bit odd being with kids that most don't notice, but my football coach was the teacher. I started doing little things overtime, mostly helping the other kids understand some basic skills of throwing catching kicking etc. I grew to enjoy it really. The kids were appreciative of my help and that felt good. Soon I was able to start some physical activity and that is when Coach suggested I go to the weight room. I did.

There was one member of the class that only spent time in there. His name was James and he had to be about 21 or so. He was mentally challenged but physically he was a rock. Like a young Mike Tyson he was shredded with muscle. Way stronger and more muscular than any other student in the school. I began to work out with James. He spotted me.. I remember starting benching just 90lbs.. then 135, then 150.. my strength grew quickly. Soon I was spotting James while he benched 325lbs.

After a couple months Coach told me I could go back to regular PE and I asked if I could stay and help the other kids and weightlift with James. He was a bit shocked by my request but granted it.

James and I kept going and soon I had my first weight lifting medal and my name got on a plaque in the weight room. I was a member of the 200 pound club. :cool

I was also back in my martial arts classes and chasing a brown belt. Back to tournament fighting and riding of course. That crash is where my bike went from RD to CAFÉ RD.

About that time I was walking down the halls at school not really looking where I was and I bumped someone fairly hard. As I said "Excuse me" as I saw a cake cutter bearing down on my head.

I reacted not even know who it was. I blocked the incoming spikes just as it got to my forehead and immediately punched back with a quick karate straight hand.. as it headed towards a now focusing target I realize it was a black girl. I tried to pull up but could not. Impact made she fell backwards onto her butt. Oh shit.

This was 1976 and most of the black kids were bussed in from EPA and were very tight knit group as there were maybe 30 out of 250. She jumped to her feet furious and said my brother is Bobby G and he is going to kick your ass. Oh shit.


Bobby G was in 12th grade and the star running back. I apologized saying "I did not see it was you I just reacted.." blah blah blah. It did not matter and I was now painted as a target. OH SHIT!!!

I ninja'd around school looking for Bobby G so I could go the other way and had managed to miss him for a few days. Then standing by the quad I heard "KOBZA!" I turned and saw Bobby G with four other Black football players in their game day jerseys just feet away. One was the big brother of one of my friends and I thought maybe he would stop Bobby G from smacking my 10th grade ass. Nope.. he just watched.

I knew I was not going to out run him so I backed across the hall to a wall. I was taught if you are going to fight a group a wall is one less side to get attacked from.

Quickly I ran through scenarios in my mind on what I would do when he came at me. I knew I was going to get my ass kicked in any case.

That’s when I heard it... James. In his Mike Tysonish voice he said "Stop it.. Don't touch Dennis or I will kill you!"

Bobby backed off immediately. James was a specimen of a young man and also an unknown entity. I knew he was sweet as a butterfly, but those guys did not. He added "If I ever hear you touch Dennis I will find you and kill you!"

Damn James.!!! :banana

The guys turned and walked away.. without even threatening anything else. James was intimidating. James was my friend and for the rest of the year all I got was looks.

I continued to work out with James and the next year he was gone. Bobby G had graduated and my relationship with the other two guys was good because of football so I never had to deal with anything beyond that.

I continued to life weights over the next two year ultimately just missing out on the 300 pound club. There were only 5 names on that plaque and I wanted to be on it bad. Coach was a fanatic for form and while I could bench 300 it was always with a windmill due to a karate injury. I settled for the 275 club. I still got the metals.

That horse trailer gave me great respect and empathy for special needs kids and also the desire to become a gym rat. Changed my life for the better.

Thanks James.. I will never forget you.

 

[ob1ventura]

Subscribed
Thanks Budman:thumbup

 

[happy_rider]

Awesome stories Budman, keep them coming!

 

[bcj]

OMG

What makes teh BARF

:newbie

 

[budman]

I have more subjects to write up.

These were easy because already written for my planned Xmas gift to my kids and Gkids. A coffee table sort of book for them.

Some.. I can't post :laughing without to much reveals.

Some I can.. and those will come as I finish them.

Another Rona project that stirs the memory banks.

 

[KazMan]

Was that the actual officer that pulled you over for your creek wheelie. He was as solid dude in my book :teeth Not that I would know anything about PA police...

 

[budman]

No.. not the actual dude.

Just a random Google Image that I put mustard on his blues for fun.

I knew a few officers back in the day. That was when they actually lived in town.
All were good people.

 

[Tom G]

I have more subjects to write up.

Some.. I can't post :laughing without to much reveals.

Another Rona project that stirs the memory banks.

I would think the statute of limitations has expired by now?

 

[budman]

Yes of course.. but self respect has no statute. :laughing

 

[budman]

MORE 24 - 1988

So I thought I would drop a bit more on the 24 HOUR races. I did 3.

First in ’87 with Hipp Bros as noted above.
Second in ’88 literally right before the AMA Nationals at Sears.
The Third in ’89 was my swan song for my racing.

The Hipp Bros stepped away from the racing scene and I dug the 24 so I grabbed some friends to join me in the effort.

Riders included Kurt M, Steve C, Tucker R, Armin Z and Steve W. In hindsight too many. Running 4 in ’87 left us beat as shit and we felt we needed to stretch it out a bit.

That would still give each 4 hours of track time and that seemed OK until we were in the hunt for a podium.

Prep for the 24 was on me this time and we had a meeting to discuss it.
The most important subject was how to make time in the pits. Typical tire/wheel change took 3 -1/2 to 4 minutes. The year before I watched and videod Team Vance and Hines do it in a minute and knew we needed to adjust. It was taking us 2 laps plus to change tires. In ’87 we had safety wire duct taped to a board ready to use for the front brake calipers and that took awhile to get done even with two guys doing it. There must be other ways to change wheels faster on a production bike.

I note the following when watching V & H.
• They used springs on the front caliper – fast as hell compared to feeding in safety wire and spinning a wrench.
• They had power tools
• They had pit lights on each side of the bike so the team could see
• They obviously had shit together in terms of who did what and the expertise to make it happen.

So how to overcome those hurdles.
• Springs easy.. just find opposing hooked springs of the right size. I bought a few and we tried them. Found the right one done.
• Power tools – we were poor :laughing I don't think they were allowed in Production anyway. I don't remember for sure. Armin suggested that quick T tools were fast as hell. Problem they don’t hook up to large bolts on the axels as they use Allen Heads. Solution: Weld allen heads onto the axels.
• Lighting – Kurt M was a carpenter and he constructed a cantilever wood structure that we mounted lights too. He planned on using the concrete pit wall to brace it. I borrowed some lights from an electrical contractor who was sponsoring us and with a generator we were now just like the big boys except our looked funky as hell :laughing
• Expertise – Well we were not hiring and had to use volunteers so we practiced to see who could do what fast. Then we practiced a lot. We did it under a street light to simulate late night conditions. We assigned 2 dudes to learn each task just in case. Then the fastest was assigned and the other was back up. We held weekly practices that lasted about 2 hours for the month before the race. The guys got good. Our last practice we changed wheels twice in less than 100 seconds and the others were right at 2 minutes. That saved a lap in time from before. Jay (owner of WaveMoto Coffee) and his bro joined Steve Hipp, Blaine and extended family and friends would do the work.

We felt good about that because racing a Katana meant we were down on power compared the Honda Hurricane’s and Yamaha 600’s.

Tucker was a pilot with a small Beachcraft so I got to fly down with him. I brought my sidekicks with us. The flight was good, but landing in the desert was crazy. Huge crosswinds mean Tucker was crabbing. Flying at an angle to face the wind and then he said "I will turn the plane straight right as we land".

I asked if he done it before and he said yes including a bunch of times in a glider which was harder. I said cool good to know and then he said he only crashed once. :wtf Thanks TUPPER!! :laughing

Anyway.. coming in I was super nervous so I pulled out the video camera to get my focus off everything except what was in the view finder.

We made it, secured the plane and hit the track. Kurt and a couple others assembled our lighting structure. I had designed shirts and we changed our name to the Bay Area Fast Boys. AKA the BA Fast boys. I did a graphic of a dude with a Mohawk wearing a back protector but letting his ass hang out. The Bare Assed Fast Boys.. :laughing

Since I was captain of the team and also we were racing my bike I got to start. I knew 24 hours would take a toll on my bike so I said you guys need to help me rebuild this before the AMA Nationals at Sears in two weeks. They agreed. If not for Steve W it would not have happened but Steve C and Kurt helped too.

Tucker was pissed so he did not and Armin lived far away. More on Tucker in a bit.

It is pretty cool starting a 24 hour thinking the checkered was a day away. Superbikes gridded first. The open production then 600 SB and then us 600 Production with light weight behind.

I got a good start and the race was on. After a tank of gas (1 hour) I brought the bike in. Second in class. Next rider and then the next and next. Turns out 5 hours in between each ridewas too long.

By the time we got to our first tire change at 5pm we were third. Our tire change was beautiful. Right at 2 min. We bounced up to 1st with 2nd and 3rd on the same lap. Enter the darkness. With our high powered single headlight we continued to ride. We slipped back to 3rd again in the middle of the night but we were all still on the same lap. The Dunlop tires were working well so we did not need to do a dark tire change. I was the lucky dude who was riding as the sun started to rise. It was beautiful and when the tracks started to come into view I was stoked.

The sun was fully up at close to 7AM and that heated the track and the tire went to shit!! I was sliding like crazy and when I got the signal to pit I was pointing frantically at the back tire.

We agreed two laps from signal was when we pitted. When I pulled in the crew went at it and again rocked it. Back to first place but once again two other teams were on the same lap. Team Hawaii (Honda) and BCal (Yamaha) were our competition. 5 hours to go. One of the crew guys showed me the tire and said look at this. He pushed the treads together with his thumbs and they stuck together.. holy shit! The Dunlop guy who had given us the tires was excited as hell we got 14 hours and took the tires for further study.

It was surreal riding when the sun came up and I will always remember the glory of seeing where the hell I was going. :laughing

The race continued to be a battle and when it came down to the end the real fight was for second between BCal and the BA Fast Boys. Team Hawaii were all fast dudes and they had pulled a lap on both of us.

We were a bit more than a ½ lap behind when the last rider change occurred. Armin took the reign’s and was on a mission.

He was closing by a second plus a lap and slowly ate away at BCal’s lead. As we got to the 15 minute mark he seemed close enough that we had a shot. Anxious moments as members of both teams we jawing with each other, in a fun way. Since this was the best battle for position on the track we were featured on the PA system. As the flag fell (per the clock not the leader) Armin was just three bike lengths behind and closed it down to just one as he crossed the finish line. If there was 2 more minutes in the 24 Hours we would have got second. Thrilling stuff and being on the podium was sweet. Heck even got a small check from Suzuki for putting a Kanatuna on the podium.

A huge investment of time and money led to one great race for us.

Then.. one scary ass flight home for me.

Tupper was a bit pissed actually as we had bumped his night time ride because others we a solid 3 – 5 seconds a lap faster than him. We were in the hunt and wanted that podium. Knowing him riding would probably mean we would lose the shot made for a difficult decision, but it was a race and his plea about this just being for fun was not really flying with the other riders.
Any way back to the flight. The packing takes a while and once the airport we grabbed a bit at the cool little restaurant at the airport that features so many famous test pilots and astronauts. I enjoyed looking at all the pics. Worth going there just for that.

When we took off my boys were out quickly. I chatted for a while and then I nodded off too. Soon I was dreaming about racing at night. My head was slumped forward and when I dreamt I ran off the track I woke up scared as hell and the first thing I saw was the ground 2,000 feet below.
Holy shit.. heart attack moment. :laughing

The adrenalin shot was intense. That kept me up for a bit, but I was dead tired and after a bit nodded off again. Damn if the scenario repeated itself. Again.. I woke and saw the ground far below and I was freaked the fuck out. This time I stayed awake. :nchantr

The sun was down as we got to SJ Airport. The sky still glowing orange and red as we spotted the runway. It was at the point Tupper said… “We made it”.
The way he said it I noted his joy at that and a big sigh of relief.

I asked “What up?” He said “Look at the instruments”. I looked down and there was no lights.. the entire instrument cluster was dark.

He said “I was hoping we could make it before dark, because the one thing I needed it the wing level indicator to land this thing and right now I can still see it”. Holy shit glad that did not need electrical power to do its job.

We landed without incident and I woke the kids and we exited the plane.

On the way home my focus jumped to the work ahead to rebuild the top end on the Kanatuna. I had a big charity piece to the AMA 3 Hour race to raise money for Rotary’s Polio Plus effort to wipe out polio worldwide and a Supersport race to run on the following Sunday.

I did not want the bike to fail and a proper top end rebuild after about a 1000 miles at speed and a year of racing would make that happen. That is another story… :teeth

We will come back to that.

If you look at the pic of me racing you will see glow sticks surrounding the rear number plate. Those lit up the number for the scoreres and it made for a cool visual on the track too. All the little things that go into a 24 hour race is amazing. So glad I got to experience them.

 

[ThinkFast]

Budman - fun stories! Question: where was the endurance race? Asking because you talked about the flying craziness, but didn’t say where you went.

 

[budman]

Willow Springs in the middle of nowhere somewhat close to Lancaster in the So Cal high desert.

 

[budman]

Race for Life - Charity Fundraiser at the AMA Endurance Races

I noted above about the race for life charity fundraiser at the Sears National 3 Hour (I think - my letter says 4) in 1988.

I dug endurance racing a lot.. and 3 hours is really a good test for a two rider team.

As mentioned I did this to raise money for Rotary Internationals Polio Plus campaign to eradicate polio by providing vaccines to third world countries that did not have access to them. Every dollar I collected would provide 8 vaccines.

I was a Rotarian at the time in Mt. View and had been for a while. My public service basically and I participated in different community events by volunteering my time.

I joined at like 22 yo and was one of the youngest dudes in the club. I continued doing that for quite a while and did not step away until I felt BARF was worthy of being a community service and I switched my focus to that.

I approached it like a walkathon. I wrote a letter (below) asking folks to pay per lap completed at whatever rate they felt OK with. I went to my fellow Rotarians, businesses and people I worked with.

Then after completion I wrote each a letter and let them know how many laps we did and they would mail a check to me made out to Rotary.

I originally was going to ride with my sponsor Mike Glisson but he decided not to ride and I ask Kurt Marriner to step in and he agreed. Kurt had rode the bike with me in the 24 hour two weeks before and we had competed against each other in the 600 classes for a couple years so I felt good about getting a decent result. This was my first AMA race and the plan was to do the 3 hour and 600 supersport on Sunday.

Some long nights with my motor on a pool table had it rebuilt and ready to race. I thought.

I had some of the same crew guys from the 24. AMA did the scoring of course so that meant we only needed pit help.

In the morning the bike was not running right. It was way down on power and we could not figure it out. We tried a bunch of stuff and nothing worked. Since I had put some much effort into the event I needed to run it. Probably would have torn down the bike more if I would have just focused on the Supersport race. Oh well. Both of us were riding well and reality is we were only a couple seconds off normal lap times so away we went.

I started the race and it was cool to be on my first AMA grid. Really cool actually. Even with the frustration of the bike woes I was stoked to be there.
I was not stoked that the AMA made me add a one to my number, so I stuck it all the way to the left

No tire changes involved in a 3 hour race at least for us so the riding change and fuel was all we had to worry about pit wise.

The classes were Open (Superbike & 750 Supersport) and Middleweight (600 Supersport). Quite a large grid and competitive one.

The race went OK.. honestly I don’t remember where we finished or how many laps we did.. :laughing

I just remember it being successful enough to raise $3,500 which was the largest donation by an individual from our club. Made my Dad happy. He is a lifelong Rotarian that never missed a meeting until got old and exempted.

The race was late in the day so that left little time to diagnose the problem to race on Sunday. We could not figure it out.. I watched. I was so bummed. I was not going to be competitive on a stock Katana with suspension bits anyway, but I wanted to race.

After the weekend I took the bike to the shop to let my buddy Wobbie diagnose how we fucked up. He went through it and when I called and they said it was fixed I went in to pick up the bike and get called a dumbshit..:laughing

Well turns out I guess I was.. or whomever put the throttle body back in the carbs backwards was. I still got the label though. :teeth

In the end we immunized 28,000 kids and I got an award called a Paul Harris Fellow, which really was just anyone that donated a thousand bux to Rotary in one year.

My Dad who was President at the time presented it to me.

Even though many Rotarians thought is was cool I could tell my Dad was still not all that happy about it. Turns out that was not quite true though as he framed a picture of the race poster below and hung it in the office where it still is today. :cool

 

[Slow Goat]

Very, VERY cool, Budman!

 

[bikeama]

I have a new favorite thread. These stories are great. :thumbup


I still miss political memes.

 

[budman]

Early dirt bike days and my first time running from Johnny Law

Let’s go back to my yute.

Riding dirt bikes in the Palo Alto Baylands. Easy push for me and my Yamaha Mini Enduro. The only challenge was going under the freeway riding on sand bags. One screw up you’re in the creek.

The baylands gave me access to lots of places to ride. A small MXish track, trails, old tires to build our own course and to Moffett Field.

Moffett had some big holes. They looked like places to shoot or do ordinance stuff. 3/4 the size of a football field at the bottom with 45 degree hills jetting out in every direction. For us it was a playground, but we were not supposed to be there of course.

Once in a while the military police would show up to chase us out. The dudes did not want to catch us.. they just wanted to follow orders to clear the zone. They would chase us up and down those bowls and when we got tired they would peel off and they would turn their attention elsewhere and chase someone else. They did not pay much attention to a 12 yo on a mini bike so I would stop on the brim and watch the fun. It was awesome fun for us and I think the MP dug it too. :laughing

At 14 I presented a better challenge on a 250 so they liked me more.

At times they would stop at talk to us.... “You know you are not supposed to be here right?”

“Yes sir”

“Ok.. have a good day”. Nice :laughing


By the time I was 15 there was a crackdown on us. When I was 12 we failed to get a MX park, but as President of the Motorcycle Minibike club in 7th grade I addressed the City council trying. It would become a nature preserve.

My first time public speaking. The City Council was kind to that punk kid in a shirt and tie. (Mom bought me special clothes for it).

As they planned how to do set up and manage the preserve we kept riding.
Soon the Cops started showing up and would target the trucks parked on the street and warn people to leave. I had gotten a CZ 250 and was still pushing it and doing the creek so I had no vehicle.

So we would just ride away and when they left come back. Sometimes the older guys with trucks would too and then they started parking in obscure places. One day the PA Police gave the full court press along with the Moffett Field Military Police blocking access to Moffett field.

They had a lot of units and a helicopter along with an off road truck. It looked like the start of a the desert race in On Any Sunday with everyone fleeing towards Moffett and then about facing coming back. :laughing

It was pretty cool, but the helicopter made it difficult to get away. The truck was easy to avoid if you could ride at all.

The guys with trucks on the street all got nabbed and ticketed. My friend and I slipped away and hid under the freeway. Eventually the heli left and we slithered home. I kept going and the cops kept coming and I kept running but had a break while in college. Eventually at about 23 when I had a dirt bike again it was all done.

Cops would come out immediately as the hikers on the trail would let them know that evil dirt bikers were where they were not supposed to be. Once a cop winked at me when my son was about a year and a half old was hanging with me and told him he was taking him and I to jail. Nice dude.. startled my son, but not sure he really understood what was going on.

There we still spots to ride if you had a vehicle to get your bike to them. Man the Bay Area has changed from those days.

 

[rob linders]

Just found this thread. Many great stories, I really enjoyed reading them.

Rob

 

[chickenfried]

:rip

Man the Bay Area has changed from those days.

 

[KazMan]

But one has to ask Budman...how did one get in a creek that was chained off at every street? :laughing