In racing, it’s the small details that usually make the difference. And, the further up the tree you go, the smaller the details become and the bigger difference they make. Today’s article IS about small details, but it’s about small details at the opposite end of the spectrum.
When I first started following road racing, as a spectator and very soon after as a photographer, things were very different to what they are today (obviously, it was 40 years ago). In fact there are hardly any details about racing today that are the same as they were then except perhaps that guys (and girls) got on motor bikes and tried to beat other guys and other girls on other motor bikes. The categories were different and the only way that you can get any idea of what racing was like back then is to go to an historic meeting today and even then there are significant differences.
The career path for a young bloke who wanted to get into racing back then was pretty well defined. Firstly, if it was at all suitable (and that caveat covered a multitude of sins), you took your own road bike to the track and ran it in a club day. Club days were restricted road race meetings, run by a motorcycle club and the only riders who could ride at the meeting were members of that club. It was all very laid-back and informal and many a young hopeful got his start there, riding his bike to the track, taking the lights and mirrors and other road-going gear off it, tacking on some number plates and racing all day. At the end of the day the reverse process saw the bike being returned to road-legal form and being ridden home.
However, it usually only took one, or, at the most, two such meetings before the young hopeful realised that his Honda 500/4 wasn’t a suitable weapon. He also realised that, were he to trash his road bike, his ability to have day-to-day transportation was going to be severely compromised. Added to this fact, he had, by now, noticed that his big road bike was being swept into the weeds by lots of other young hopefuls who were riding smaller, and more nimble bikes than he was. Mostly they were little two stroke things that he could zing on the straights. But, when it came to the corners, they would zing him right back! So, as I said, the career path was clear. If you seriously wanted to go road racing, you kept your road bike for road duties and you bought a race bike. And it was probably going to be one of those little two stroke thingies.
And so it was that, for more than 20 years, the entry level road racing weapon of choice were the 250cc two stroke twins made by either Suzuki or Yamaha. They were cheap to buy (my brand new RD250 cost me $999 at the end of 1975!) they were easy to fettle and fix and they were cheap to keep running. You could run your RD or GT in the 250 Production class (strictly stock standard) and then, once you got into it more, you could buy a set of expansion chambers, fit them and run them in the 250 Improved Production. Having one also allowed you to run in the open class races as well, especially at Club Days and “C Grade days so you could get to the end of the day and end up having ridden many races during the day. Hundreds of motorcycle road racers, including many of the great names that were revere today, got their start in road racing on a 250 proddy bike.
The 250cc Production class lasted from the early 70’s well into the Naughties when increasingly stringent environmental regulations caused the demise of the two stroke road bike and Aprilia finally pulled the pin on the ubiquitous RS250 (2002)
And, if you ever had any doubt as to the quality of racing that was on show when the 250 proddies took to the track, get a load of this 6 lapper from PI in 2001.
Pleased to see my good mate, Glenn Kelleher, a CRRC member, win this one in a super tight finish.
By 2001 there was only one bike to have and that was the Aprilia but back when I started watching, the choice was the RD Yamaha or the GT Suzuki, as I’ve already mentioned. And, in the final wash-up it was one very small detail that made the difference between them. Both were two stroke twins, both had a 54mm x 54mm bore and stroke and both produced pretty much the same horsepower. While the Yamaha engine derived directly from the pukka TD engines of grand prix racing, and though there were more tuning trick available if one wanted to race it in improved form, the Suzuki was the weapon to have if you really wanted to win. Why? The answer is….footpegs.
Here’s two photos of the two protagonists.
The Yamaha, on the left, had a metal footpeg hanger that bolted, through a set of rubber grommets, to the frame of the bike, under the engine. This hanger came out under the exhaust pipes on each side as can be seen from the pic. The Suzuki, however, had the rider’s footpegs mounted to the frame ABOVE the exhaust pipes AND they were spring-loaded so that, if they did hit the track, they folded up. The Yamaha pegs were fixed and were the first things to hit the track when the bike was heeled over in the corners. And that little detail meant that the Suzuki had better ground clearance and the advantage that the footpegs would not dig into the track. As anybody who has aspired to go fast knows, the more ground clearance you have, the faster you can go around corners and the more confidence you have that the bike isn’t going to dig in and spit you off.
It was common in the day to see Yamahas with the footpeg bracket nearly worn through from dragging it on the deck, and, scrutineers could easily defect the bike when it was presented for tech inspection at the start of the day. At the Six Hour race, which specified absolutely stock standard, the bike had to start the race with a brand new footpeg hanger.
Both bikes were great and both won races, let there be no mistake, but, for rider confidence and that little bit extra ground clearance, the Suzuki was the weapon of choice.
This weekend is the Festival of Speed at Eastern Creek (Fri-Sun). After the Island Classic it is THE meeting to attend and I am keeping my fingers crossed that Sydney’s appalling spell of wet weather clears in time for the event to go ahead unimpeded. Good luck to all my friends who are competing and to all my friends who will be entering bikes in the Show and Shine. Unfortunately I will be a no-show this weekend which I’m finding it hard to reconcile but you can only do what you can do and, this year, I can’t do.
Till next time.