The Astrodome Nationals

The Astrodome Nationals

DAN HUNT

Crash, Pop, Bang, Crunch, Endo, Center Punch, Wobble, Dog Pile, High Side, Bail, Rattle Bars, Wahoo, They Shore Like That!

THE LAST TIME I went to Texas, I stayed at my Uncle Ted's dude ranch. I was only 9, but I recall a drought, which had to do with much more than the lack of water. The parents went off and did exciting stuff like drink beer at the Silver Dollar and hunt snipe with a bag and a flashlight. Left to my own devices, I ogled a visiting busload of WACs until I found out they didn't shave under their arms. There was a 12-year-old chick two rooms away who didn't need to shave but she had braces. So I settled for killing off 90 percent of the local songbird population with my BB gun, much in the tradition of Buffalo Bill, and with as little feeling.

Twenty-two years later, Texas has changed for the better. Go to Houston and you’re hard-put to see a cowboy hat. Hats apparently don’t make it in the urban explosion. They’ve got freeways, a fancy jetport the required 45 minutes from town, Bellbottom Mod, good places to eat and some remarkable high rise architecture. Houstonians still whoop a lot, for no good reason, but you can’t change everything overnight.

For this latter purpose, they’ve created a great Whooping Palace called the Astrodome. It’s so big that the engineers can create rainstorms inside by pressing the wrong button on the air conditioner. The electric bill rockets upward $250 in the first half-second surge as the lights are turned on. The crowd is impressed. Whoop. More amperes are consumed as a light board, several hundred feet long, flashes names and numbers of competitors in each heat. The National Anthem is occasion for a lunar voyage light show, followed by another Whoop. Even the amplification system whoops, making Roxy Rockwood, Golden Throat of the National Trail, sound more like a cavern battle between rival Sir Echoes.

The AM A brand of professional dirt track racing fits nicely into this scheme. As the fit is a bit snug, and the track unforgiving, the fellows crash a lot, which pleases the Texans no end.

The combined attendance of 16,000 Friday and 26,000 Saturday rather humbles that of the “biggest” AMA nationals, and, if you care about motorcycle racers, it makes you nauseous; the purse for each National was a paltry $8000, thanks to the brakes-on AMA attitude. By way of consolation, bike racing has, at least, gotten big enough to qualify for the Whooping Palace, and everyone on the streets of Houston, down to the last woman and child, knew about the event.

More succinctly, the Astrodome nationals are insignificant (from a national points standpoint), dangerous as hell and very good for motorcycling.

For the enthusiast, both events offered much new mechanical exotica. Even in the TT, where the motor rostrum is dominated normally by an endless procession of Triumphs, the tight confines of the steeplechase track caused a great deal of diversification. Everyone had a different solution.

In qualifying, tradition won out, as Dallas Baker posted fastest time of 29.86 sec. on a big, snorting BSA 650 Twin. It wasn’t necessarily the best answer, as Ronnie Rail wasn’t much slower on a light Bultaco two-stroke of half the displacement, with a 30.13. Nor was Mert Lawwill on his 350 H-D Sprint, at 30.21. TT King Skip Van Leeuwen and Northern Californian Paul Bostrom (who should get some kind of award for having every hair on his head exactly in place, no matter how disarraying the situation) were the next two in the low 30s on a pair of 650 Triumphs. Also in the ball park were Eddie Mulder and Dick Mann. Mulder, a name commonly associated with Triumph, relied on the nimble qualities of a Montesa 360 to pull him through. Dick Mann, for the same reasons, was counting on the good pulling characteristics of a TT-rigged Husqvarna 405 motoerosser to overcome the stop-start nature of the turns.

But, in the actual racing, the big stuff seemed to win out. Small displacement machinery can get around the track fast if the rider is undisturbed and can adhere to the fastest line. But when it comes to getting off the line, or off and on the power band, when passing people or bumping them out of the way entirely, the big iron seems to suffer less in the compromise from purity.

This showed in the heats. Van Leeuwen scotched the first one, beating Mulder and Triumph-mounted Dave Hansen. Bostrorn won the Second heat. followed by Jim Rice. the mild, implac able second year Expert who was defi nitely the sleeper in this evenE Mark Breisford ran 3rd on an li-i) 350, which national champion Mert Lawwill de scri bed as `~my old trail hike,"

The third heat was won by Washington TT star Sonny Burres (Triumph) followed by Dusty Coppage, riding one of the new so he Yamaha 650s in a Track master racing frame, and Jimmy Odom (BSA). in the Semi, the last three available transfer positions went to a very hairy Dave Aldana, who was riding his BSA Twin like it was a billiard ball on a crowded table, Bugsy Mann and Ken Pressgrove (BSA).

Ah yes. the unfortunates! They included fast qualifier Baker, who was shunted in the first heat. He made the restart, but was pounced upon once again by Roger Reiman’s errant KR, and was out for good with a mashed front wheel. Dan Haaby, on another Yamaha 650, was “detuned” in the same heat. Mert Lawwill’s 350 misfired him right to last place in his heat, during which time Larry Wilburn got his ribs crunched in a spectacular pileup that caught even the Texas crowd short of breath. Gene Romero, still with Triumph, got caught at the start of the first heat with his hand in the air.

It was a sheer relief to get to the Expert main event after a series of interminable delays for crashes during the Amateur part of the program. The jump caused part of the problem as it sent riders high into the air. but offered no compensatory ramping to soften the landing. The survivors put on a good show in the Amateur main event. The 1-2-3 winners Terry Dorsch, John Hately and Greg Hodges, all Californians and all on Triumphs are among those to watch this year. Keep your eye also on Tod Sloan, 8th place, who was Ascot’s high point Novice last year; and Wayne Hosaka, 9th place, who merits an award for dramatics of some kind, after he dumped in the heat and coaxed a reluctant black flag restart with suitable moaning and groaning. It takes a lot of courage to play a wounded “Caesar,” lying on your face in the middle of a race track.

Meanwhile, I had been visiting with BSA’s shining light, Jim Rice. He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the impending Expert main. So we talked about the merits of bellbottoms and dressing mod. Highly unusual. No big eyes, no tenseness. So I concluded that he wouldn’t be in the top three.

I was wrong. Jim was just considering alternatives for spending his prize money. The opening lap flourish went to Eddie Mulder, that whimsical fast starter. But Rice soon took over, dull as dishwater, and proceeded to pull a quarter lap on the rest of the field. including Bostrom, Skip, Dusty and Aldana. Rice was smooth, unspectacular, and his big Twin, which he wrenches himself, was dead reliable. If he follows the advice of the Head Dap of Los Angeles, as he puts it, he’ll have 50 complete mod wardrobes in no time.

On to the short track the following evening, interest was heightened greatly by the appearance of speedway stars Ivan Mauger. current world champion, and Barry “Briggo” Briggs.

Both men brought machinery representative of their sport, albeit with the smaller 250-cc engines required by “Class C” rules instead of those alcoholic big Singles. As they went around in qualifying, sideways, standing up and looking like giant grasshoppers, they elicited great response from the Whoopers.

Briggo’s mount, powered by a twocylinder Yamaha TD2 road racing engine, had the power edge on Mauger’s Kawasaki Single. Mauger qualified at 16.12, about a half second off the ftd, which was significantly slow, as the 20 top men were in the 15s. Brigg’s first qualifying attempt was a disaster, but because an engine plate was dangling from his machine and, as he should have been stopped from running, he was given another attempt and wound up 7th fastest at 1 5.73.

Keith Mashburn. on a more conventional Yamaha, was tied with Dave Aldana for ftd of 15.56. Behind them: Mark Brelsford (H-D) and Gene Romero (Triumph).

But this gave little indication of how the heats would run. Chuck Palmgren, 16th fastest qualifier, won the first on a Yamaha. Dan Haaby won the next on a Yamaha. Ivan Mauger was in this heat but ran dead last, as he didn’t know, and his help failed to tell him, that knobby speedway Barums do not work on a track that has been rolled and scraped clean of its cushion. Dick Mann won the third heat on his Ossa. It was nice to see last year’s No. 1 Gary Nixon, out again. He was an alternate for this heat, but, since the leg he broke at Santa Rosa last year is still predicting the rainy weather reliably, he was just as glad he didn’t get to go out. Bart Markel may wish perhaps that Gary had gone in his place, after getting slammed over the bales like a rag doll.

Brigg’s prior experience at the Astrodome paid off in Heat 4; what Mauger couldn’t be expected to know, he knew, so he switched to a Pirelli rear tire, got the traction he needed, and blew all them Yanks in the weeds.

In short track, transfer to the main event is worked through two semimains, of which Bugsy Mann won the first on his Ossa, tailed by Mert Lawwill. Dave Hansen won the second on a Bultaco. Briggo’s luck went sour at this point, as his machine dropped out of gear and he got center-punched off the track. Too bad, as he was going fast enough, and had command of enough of the track to pull a possible main event upset.

So Bugsy was the favorite for the main. He took up the lead almost immediately, then Lawwill caught up and tailed him. He played it cool until Lap 20 when Bugs slipped off the groove momentarily. Lawwill was in the lead with only five laps to go. But Mann thought there were more laps than that remaining and so delayed his bid for a repass until too late.

Third at the finish came Jimmy Odom (Bultaco), followed by that sneaky Jim Rice fellow, who had made startling progress through the field after a mediocre start. His 4th place was quite significant, for, coupled with his win the previous night, it gave him and BSA a modest lead on the national championship points table. (O]