At Large

AT LARGE

Hard times for lap times in Hog Heaven

Steven L. Thompson

IT DOESN'T TAKE A DEGREE IN MOTORpsychology to understand why Hawaii is Hog Heaven. The air itself is luscious and languorous enough to be a narcotic. Real time vanishes among the taro plants, leaving only Maui Time, which is another way of saying, “tomorrow.”

Harleys are perfect for such a place. Their big V-Twins beat slowly in syncopated rhythm with Maui Time, making being stuck behind endless caravans of rented Toyotas full of ogling, pale-skinned tourists not only bearable but enjoyable.

So I didn't expect to find something called Sportbike Hawaii when I went troppo for snorkeling and sundozing. In two weeks on three islands, I hadn't seen more than one sportbike anyway. I figured there was a state law banning the need for speed.

At Sportbike Hawaii, I found out otherwise. It’s a tiny shop in Kaneohe, near the Marine base on Oahu. Sandwiched between a commercial fishing supply store and a hobby shop in a mini-mall on Alaloa Street; the place is about as typically Hawaii as a Brooks Brothers suit. I walked in from the steamy air of Hog Heaven and found myself in another world.

A wall-size painting of Mike Baldwin at Daytona dominated the entry. Parked next to it were speed-seeking missiles of the Suzuki Gamma variety, nose-to-tail. Accessories, speed parts, photos—everything hanging on the walls or sitting on the jammed shelves spoke of the siren song of racelust.

Mike Coffman eyed me as I walked in. 1 thought 1 detected the wary, sidewise look of the persecuted minority in his glance. “What's going on here?” 1 asked. He told me.

Even in Hog Heaven, sportbikes sprout and race. The Hawaii Road Race Association, established in 1973. boasts 50 dedicated members who trek monthly to their racetrack and do what today's awesome bolides were meant to do.

But it seems that the track—Ewa Beach, near Barber's Point Naval Air Station—is down to 0.7 miles long, from its original 2.1 miles. Potholed, weed-overgrown, too bumpy even for the sportycar guys. 1 listened as Ed Sorbo, co-owner of Sportbike Hawaii, detailed the too-familiar saga of a track in trouble. It was the usual stuff: insufficient local support among the politicos and power brokers; lack of money for repairs; squabbles over land rights; insurance difficulties and. of course, a major lawsuit.

Sorbo sketched the Hawaiian riding picture: more than 10.000 registered streetbikes, and as many as twice that number of unregistered ones, this being Hawaii, where, as he puts it, “people would rather go to the beaches than the DMV.” Aggressive and successful Motorcycle Safety Foundation courses running all year, graduating more than 3000 riders in three years. A huge military presence, which means lots of young guys with good jobs to buy lots of Hurricanes and Ninjas.

So why such hard times for lap times? Coffman shrugged eloquently. Nobody comes to Hawaii for roadracing.

Of course not. But then, before a desperate, infant British automotive and motorcycle establishment convinced the Isle of Man government to allow racing on their island, nobody went to that place for racing either. And until Chris Pook turned the streets of sleepy, run-down Long Beach into a Formula One circuit, nobody imagined that big-time street racing would become the racing phenomenon of America during the 1970s and '80s.

Why not a Hawaiian Tourist Trophy? Ewa Beach may be beyond repair. the legal hassles beyond hope. But Hawaii has roads that challenge and delight any apex-strafer. Especially on the Big Island—which is about the size of Connecticut—hooking up a circuit like the TT Mountain Course at the Isle of Man would be a cinch.

At Santa Catalina Island, off the coast of California, racers once tried to put on an American version of the TT, but it never quite worked. Hordes of tourists invading Mr. Wrigley's island to watch knobbytired Triumphs scare the donkeys wasn't the same as Geoff Duke howling through Kirkmichael. But hordes of tourists already go to Hawaii. The economy is based on them, and on the GI legions.

Besides, Catalina was then, and this is now. This is the era in which you find guys like Coffman and Sorbo all over the world, connected by cable TV to racing and sportbikes. This is the era of Japanese, not British. dominance of the sport—and the Japanese, in case you wondered, are among the world's most enthusiastic fans of motorcycle roadracing.

The Japanese also account for a huge percentage of the total tourist business in Hawaii, narrowly losing out to Mainlanders in sheer numbers. And they already outspend us fourto-one when they visit the place. So if Americans aren't smart enough or bold enough to develop a few desolate lava fields in Hawaii for motorsports, the Japanese might be. After all. these are the same guys who saw significant manufacturing and marketing opportunity after WWII where most of America’s industrialists did not—in motorcycles.

Whether or not anybody develops a new circuit in Hawaii. Coffman and Sorbo are continuing to uphold the sportbike banner. They’re fighting for Ewa Beach, training people with the MSF and will be moving their store to downtown Honolulu. Only time will tell if they—and sportbikes in general —will succeed in Hog Heaven. But at least, in the hectic metropolis of Hawaii’s biggest city, it'll be real time and not Maui Time that determines their fate.

Meanwhile, the Harleys will continue to cruise to Maui Time. As they’ve done seemingly forever. SI