Wednesday

The key word was, "Today's the day." We only had a day- and-a-half left!

We changed the plugs to 4163 Autolites. We hadn't employed the Nitrous system, and I could see the need in Berry's eyes. He spent an entire year building this engine specifically for nitrous, to counteract the nature of the salt and lack of air density, and we hadn't reached a comfortable stage for its use.

Valerie was also a factor. She still wasn't completely comfortable with the bike or the salt conditions and the thought of 30 more horsepower spinning the rear wheel against the uncertain salt was daunting.

Some team members grouse and threatened to steal leathers and make a pass, but we stayed the course with our GoDaddy.com pilot. The plugs we set at .028 and Berry switched the main for an 80, one step leaner. He retarded the timing two degrees in the rear cylinder and asked Valerie to go like a mutherfucker.

"Pull a Burt Munroe and get it on the salt," Berry said.

Another weather front was moving in and only three or four bikes ran in the morning including Jay Allen, who blew his engine. The wind kicked up and rain threatened. Some team members were forced to split. My son, Frank and his wife Yvette took off, Hiway and Marc were forced to return to work 600 miles away in the Bay Area. Gene Koch's health wasn't the best and Dr. Hamster took him home. The maximum wind rule for the short course bikes was 11-13 mph and they shut the track down. At 3 mph, streamliners won't run.

We were scrambling and watching the barometer. It showed 68.5 millibars and we were calculated to be at 5700 feet. Good news. The rooster tail of salt was a concern. Every night we hit the Billiard Bar at the Nugget Casino where the racers hung out, had a couple of "Adult Beverages," and discussed racing tactics. One of the starting line judges was always on hand, freshly shaved, in a clean shirt and smiling, Bob. We looked like shit and smelled. He followed the Assalt Weapan build on Bikernet.com and was amazed.

"There's a balanced triangle of elements for success on the salt," Bob said. "You need horsepower, aerodynamics and tractions in equal parts. You're loosing traction. The forth element is the rider." We discussed adding weights to the rear wheel and that seemed to be the answer, plus we owned the duct tape to make it happen.

I called Nate once more, the tire master from Signal Hill, California for advice. Could we lower the rear wheel tire pressure?

"No," he said, "38 psi is perfect. Lowering the tire pressure will jeopardize the tire construction and it could breakdown. Add weight over the axle."

We had tent weights to hold our tents from blowing away and Gypsy packed one 5-pound tent weight on each side of the fender. Then we discovered 10-pound cast iron dumbbells in Duffy's motor home belonging to his wife, Kim.

"At least they're silver," Gypsy said.

"Weight in front of the rear wheel amounts for 50 percent over the axle," Nate explained, but when we suggested weights on the rear pegs right at the axle, Valerie vetoed the notion.

"I wouldn't be comfortable with weights there," she said.

We were able to place all the weights inside our panels for no negative Aero effects. More good news.

The air was cool and a blessing for the bike, but we stood in line too long. Each time we might make a pass or advance in line, the wind shut the track down. It was 1:15 and the sun was burning the positive air density away. In addition to burning daylight, we were burnin' air quality. At 1:20, Bub's staff released another five bikes to pre-stage including Roger Goldammer.

At 3:30, we fired the bike to make our first run of the day, and it popped on one cylinder. Under pressure to make a run, Berry shut it down, fooled with some wires and tried again. We were standing on the starting line. Other riders were damn anxious to make their passes and we had to move. He fired it to life and both cylinders ran, but not for long. Val made her pass on one cylinder at 103 mph.

That damn chain guard broke again and we scrambled to find a bad wiring connection. One of the coils was losing connection and it turned out to be number two. We ran single- fire, dual-plugged heads. It couldn't be the plugs. We were going for broke. The afternoon was slipping away and the only way to make a winning pass was to engage the nitrous. We fixed the wire and the chain guard with tywraps, by Jeremiah, and jammed to the staging position at the other end of the track.

Valerie hit the nitrous button but was unsure and data acquisition indicated only a momentary boost to one cylinder. But our run came in at 157.743. Not bad. Berry and Duffy pulled the plugs and Dave Rash from D&D checked them.

"Perfect," he said. "Don't fuck with the mixture."

Mixture and air velocity were critical considerations. Berry initially wanted to run a velocity scoop. Larry Petrie developed a ram velocity stack for his Chop N Grind, 100-inch V-Twin, but it never ran over 133 mph, whereas last year he easily turned over 150 mph.

There was so much to consider. Wind tunnels call for moving the air around the vehicle as neatly as possible: anything else will slow the vehicle down. Plain velocity stacks work to a degree, except when the passing air yanks oxygen back out of the carb for a drop in air velocity. Air scoops and rams jam air into the carb, but it's difficult to determine how to control or regulate the pressure for best performance at various speeds.

We hauled ass back to impound at 6:05 and negotiated with the AMA officials about one more run. At 6:11, Ken from the AMA stopped all runs, but promised that if we were ready to go, bright and early in the morning, we would be in the first group. It also meant we had to start making passes all over again for an improved record. The FIM requires that the second pass take place within 2 hours and the AMA dictates the second pass is made within the calendar day.

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