Copyright 2004, Roadracing World Publishing, Inc.

FIRST PERSON/OPINION

Via e-mail:

I am writing in the hopes that with the combined influence of Roadracing World and its loyal readership, something can be done about the horrendous conditions at my local track here in upstate New York.

Last Sunday morning, with the long-awaited return of the warm weather, I gleefully pulled on my racing leathers and headed out to my local track, a 54-turn, 14 mile road course not far from my house.

The conditions were abysmal. I’d hoped that the owners would use the winter to improve the track conditions. Sadly, that has not been the case.

To begin with, I have to say that I’ve ridden plenty of tracks in this country and I’ve yet to see another one with oncoming traffic. Cars and trucks speeding past, honking, skidding, giving me the finger – I can’t tell you what that does to your line selection.

What was once my favorite part of the track, a fast left-right-left chicane leading onto a long right hand high-speed sweeper, is now inexplicably home to a brand-new strip mall.

That’s just plain dangerous.

Adding insult to probable injury, track officials (without rider input, mind you) have determined that the increased traffic from the new Chuck E. Cheese necessitated a stoplight right at the end of the chicane. One red light and you can kiss pole position goodbye.

Is it any wonder they’re holding GP’s in Qatar?

There was a dead squirrel in Turn 13, an oil spill in Turn 27, a deer crossed in front of me in the middle of the 110-mph back straight, and right at the end of a flying lap, an old lady in a Subaru backed right out onto the track at Turn 47 where she lives with her husband who mows the lawn every Sunday and sprays grass clippings all over the racing line. The track is no place for those kinds of obscenities, Lady.

To make matters worse, there were no cornerworkers to be found and the only ambulance I saw arrived a full 15 minutes after I T-boned a back-marker minivan full of church-goers at the end of the front straight.

Wasted a brand new set of slicks, too, goddamn it.

Shalom Auslander
West Hurley, New York