The San Jose Mile
The San Jose Mile
The Natives Were Restless
D. Randy Riggs
Two Months Without A National Had The Class C Pros Jittery ...A Mile and A Half-Mile Back-To-Back Settled Their Nerves ... Or Did It?
IT HAD BEEN more than two months since the top riders in the country had clashed for National points on the grueling professional circuit at Daytona. The only other dirt events had taken place even earlier in the year at Houston on a track so small that real racing is impossible...so guys like Gene Romero, Gary Scott and Ken Roberts still hadn't had an opportunity to really seriously wring out their equipment. Sure, there had been a few local half-miles, that kind of thing, but a National is different. A National pays points towards that elusive Number One plate. And that means business, serious business.
In the month of May, the real Na tional season gets underway. Before that, it is nothing more than sporadic; a race here, time to kill, then a race there. But in May the relaxation ends and the weekly grind of traveling to a different part of the country every weekend begins. And the let-ups are infrequent and the pressures and workload are tremendous.
The front ends of new vans get chipped and bug-splattered; miles build up on odometers; candy bar wrappers pile up in cabs. Credit card receipts collect on clipboards; ashtrays are filled and emptied. . . then filled again. The trucks' interiors become chambers in which decisions are made, jokes are told and theories are discussed. There were a lot of vans traveling to the central California town of San Jose in mid May, most had much in com mon. In the rear they were carting motorcycles; motorcycles designed, built and hopefully ready to run on the stupendously-fast mile dirt oval at the Santa Clara County Fairgrounds. It was the unofficial beginning of a 150,000-mile trek back and forth across the nation; a ritual performed by a group with a common goal: to be able to paint a black number "1" on the surface of a white, square-shaped piece of aluminum or fiberglass and attach it to one of the motorcycles riding along with them in the van at the end of the grind. Only one rider out of the many would have that opportunity and privilege.
Traditionally, San Jose in May has seen the running of a half-mile kicker, but in the last two years, the Mile run at the same facility has proven even more popular. So this season promoter Bob Barkhimer got a sanction from the AMA for his usual quota of two Nationals, and both were mile events. "Fantastic," the riders were saying as they loaded their vans. Miles rank high on their list of priorities.
Who was favored at San Jose? No doubt about it. . . the Harleys would be hard to beat. Rumors floating around the week prior to the National held that Mert Lawwill's "super" motor was dumping out 80 hp on the Axtell Dyno. And with the track surface looking better than it ever had before, there was little doubt that a guy like Mert could go out and squish the lap record set the year previous.
There were, in fact, about 13 riders who managed to run the record into the ground, but it was Lawwill, the man with the motor, who outsped them all to a very quick, 38.31-sec., 93.67-mph turn. Gary Scott, also on a team H-D, sizzled only slightly behind in the 2nd slot. But Ken Roberts, the pride of Yamaha, could only manage to qualify 9th fastest.
CYCLE WORLD, in our efforts to keep our readers on top of the action, put our $2500 radar gun into play to record some of the riders' speeds. Normally we use the instrument to record the actual top speed on our test motorcycles; at a race it's even more fun. Check the chart for some of the riders' best straightaway speeds.
A few interesting machines turned up to run the first Mile of the season, and one was being pointed by none other than Gary Nixon. The bike? A twostroke Kawasaki Triple built by Nixon's ace mechanic, Irv Kanemoto. Though the wild-sounding mount had the fans curious, and turned in a best backchute speed of 118, it lacked stability in the>
turns and threw a chain in the heat race. Nixon then spectated, probably wishing they'd pave the oval.
Doug Schwerma, of Champion frames, put together another curiosity piece for his rider Rick Hocking. Ever see a Honda Four on a Mile? Neither have we, but it was a treat all the same. Hocking liked the way it steered, but several maladies kept it from doing much during its maiden voyage, though it ran a respectable 115 down the straight. Expect to see it turn up again.
Although qualifying tends to give tuners and riders ideas about how things are going for them, it certainly doesn't spell the final outcome of a main event. In fact, heat races can be a better indication.
At San Jose, Lawwill was no doubt the fastest, and walked off with the first heat in a convincing manner. Could anybody take him later on when it really counted? Maybe so, since the second heat race of the afternoon was a second quicker than the first, due primarily to a three-rider battle between Roberts' Yamaha, and the Harleys of brothers Hank and Gary Scott.
Roberts grabbed 1st at the wire, and that led to even more speculation about the supposed Harley superiority. Scott (Gary), was not all that thrilled about the traction his Goodyear D/T rear tire had given him off the corners. He was thinking about a different compound for the 25-lap National.
What about Roberts? The look on his face in the pits was cool and calm, as if he were about to enter a spelling bee.
In much slower races, Rex Beauchamp and Scott Brelsford sewed up the final heats of the day, both on the feared Harley-Davidson V-Twins. One mechanic mused, "Both Harley and horsepower start with the letter H."
That was fearless Dave Aldana's big problem—horsepower—and not the broken wrist off of which he had sawed the cast so that he could race. His factory Norton had ignition ailments. A spare Triumph, borrowed from teammate Mike Kidd, cried the blues, as well. D was out of his leathers and back civilian clothes before qualifying had even ended. Even the normally-jovial Aldana looked disgruntled.
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Same with Dick Mann. His Champion Frames-sponsored Yamaha felt pretty strong during time trials, but somehow the AMA clocks fouled up and the officials missed his run. An unnecessary screw-up to be sure, even though believable.
Roberts had the pole for the big one; he chose the outside of the first row. This put nemesis Scott on the inside of that same row, with three more H-D riders, Lawwill, Beauchamp and Scott Brelsford, sandwiched in between. Ken ny's yellow-and-black Shell-framed Yamaha 750 looked lonely amongst the formidable orange-and-black Milwauk~ V's.
Mechanics shoved their riders and labors of love down the track for the bump starts. Twenty machines were revved to life and the pulses of thous ands of fans quickened. Twenty riders moved into position on lime streaks across the track surface; the starter jumped to his platform. Clutch handles were pulled in, right feet stepped down on gearshift levers and the machines jolted slightly as their transmissions clunked into gear.
Revs built. . .the noise shook the ground. Riders didn't dare blink as they stared at the starter. . the green flag sprang up and another Mile had begun. Gary Scott grabbed an amazing bunch of traction and literally jumped to an immediate lead. Lawwill spun h~ tire crazily and found himself behind 16 roostertails. Roberts got off in 5th, but Scott was well in front. The usual sorting took place during the first cou ple of laps, and Scott was flying at the one-lap-record pace!
And just as suddenly Roberts was coming from behind, working his way through and finally breaking clear of the Dack; Scott was in his sights and unbe ievably. . .Iosing ground. By lap seven the Yamaha 750 had not only reeled in Scott's Harley, but pulled him onto the Jock and stuck him in the bucket, as Nell. But Roberts had a fish that wasn't 3bout to give up.
For 19 miles they continued at an incredible pace. The track had only a few bumps in the third turn and a wide enough groove to allow side-by-sid~ racing. Roberts held first for time. . then Scott repassed. Back and forth they went; both bikes and riders were so evenly matched it defied description.
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Behind the scorching leaders a deter mined Romero had worked to 3rd. Mark Brelsford had pulled to the side lines with a dead magneto; his brother's machine was holding a precarious 5th despite a chunking rear tire. Chuck Palmgren was having troubles with over heated brakes, while others were plain wearing down from nearly 25 miles of 90-mph running.
On lap 24, Scott crossed the finish line slightly ahead of Ken. This was going to be another one of the incredi ble Mile finishes, another jump-up-and yell, Scott/Roberts duel. . .to the very last inch.
Out of the last turn they came, Roberts slightly behind and Scott glanced back for a last look. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.
Gary slipped his Harley just a tad high off the corner, and with Roberts that's all it took. In the final incredible 200 yards Kenny inched his Yamaha past Scott and held not-quite-a-bike length lead across that white lime dust that spells the finish. Roberts had done it. . .San Jose was his baby.
STRAIGHTAWAY SPEEDS
SAN JOSE RESULTS
