Can-Am Classic

CAN-AM CLASSIC

RACE WATCH

Team CW defends truth, justice and the American way

DON CANET

REMEMBER THE DAYS WHEN A MOTORHOME JUST didn’t look complete without a Honda Mini-Trail strapped to its bumper? While minibikes may no longer be the mainstay of family camping, each summer a small band of motorcyclists sets up camp in the heart of Washington state for a weekend of roadracing.

It's the annual Can-Am Classic, a three-day twowheeled festival hosted by the Canadian Pacific Coast

YSR ed on Club the outskirts and played of out Wenatchee, at Pangborn Washington. Raceway, locatThe program kicks off on a Friday with practice, followed by a full menu of sprint races on Saturday. Day three features the event’s grand finale, a two-hour endurance race. The winning team receives a 6-foot-tall trophy that’s perpetual, meaning it must either be defended the following year, or passed on to the new champion at that time.

Consistent with most minibike roadrace clubs around the country, the Pacific Coast YSR Club offers Stock and Modified classes for Yamaha YSR50s, the bike of choice for most mini-roadracers. There’s also a Novice race and a Women’s class. The fastest bikes are found in Open GP, which has an “anything goes” 91cc displacement cap. It’s grass-roots racing all the way-you won’t find packed bleachers or long souvenir lines here. Spectators are mostly friends, family and pets, and if you must have an event keepsake to take home, pick an apple from the adjacent orchard.

Billed as the “Woodstock of YSRs,” the event’s motto would seem to be: Race All Day, Rage All Night.

This year was no exception. The pits looked like a gypsy campsite, with several campers, vans, tents and canopies grouped together. At sunset, the after-hours festivities commenced with the cracking sounds of potato rounds fired from a spud gun. The Canadians in attendance graciously taught us Yanks how to consume beer, and the Seattle set gave a daring stuntriding performance aboard mopeds and skateboards. This was topped only by members of the YSR-mounted “Nude Nightriders of Northern California.” Rest assured, the moon was full that night.

But there was a serious side to the event, too. Following Friday’s practice, Team Calamari’s head honcho, Susan Clark, took her band of “squids” on a track-walk to discuss lines and riding strategy. Later in the evening, Clark conducted a speech class on Canadian slang, proof that Wenatchee’s ambience is intoxicating, eh? Clark’s California-based team has had a strong presence at the Can-Am Classic since the event’s inception five years ago, and has maintained sole possession of the coveted endurance trophy. Chained to a pitside post, the wooden monolith stood as a camp centerpiece, the joke being cagey Canucks might steal it during the night. My mission? Pry the trophy from Team Calamari’s tentacles. That’s right, I didn’t travel all the way to Washington to cover a minibike race and eat apple cobbler. I came to race.

It all began earlier this year, when I introduced my 17-year-old nephew Paul Kerr to minibike roadracing. After competing in a few races aboard my converted Kawasaki KX80 motocrosser (see The “KX80 Caper,” CW, December, 1994), Paul was hooked on knee-dragging. After purchasing a similarly set-up KX, he began racing with the Northern California Mini Road Racing Association. Prior to the event at Wenatchee, Paul and I had teamed up for a

pair of NCMRRA two-hour endurance wins, narrowly beating Team Calamari both times on its home turf. The beauty of minibike racing is that it’s enjoyed by both young and old, small and large. Just ask 50cc Stock class winner Tyler Sandell. “I gotta use a lot of elbows, and keep it wide open all the time,” said the 6-foot, 3-inch 200-pounder from Seattle, who fancies himself the Fritz Kling of minibike roadracing. Some of the weekend’s fiercest dicing came in the Women’s race. Calamari’s Barb Landry had her hands full fending off Canadian Monica Dommel, who made several daring mid-corner passes only to be out-powered down the main straight away. When not engaged in battle on the track, Dommel helped her boyfriend Grant Grinnell with event logistics. "Last year, everything was up in the air," said Dommel, who adopted the Can-Am Classic when its original organizers decided to pursue other interests. "We decided that if we didn't do it, nobody would."

Saturday's sprint races were terrific fun. In the Supersport and Superbike classes, club rules allow stone-stock YSR8Os to compete against modified 50s. Canadian Mark Kruger dominated both classes aboard a YSR8O. building an insurmountable lead over the eight Calamari riders trail ing in his wake. In Open UP, yours truly made a clean sweep, taking my KX8O to wins in all three heats. The pace was hot at the front, with chal lenges coming from Calamari's hired guns, Logan Wilke out of Oklahoma and Seattle's Kevin Sheafer. Both riders were armed with strong-runfling YSRM8Os-a combination of Suzuki RM8O engines and modified YSR chassis. My nephew earned a creditable sixth overall, finishing be hind Calamari's Jerry Douglas and Dan Merlino.

The stage was then set for a show down in the two-hour Can-Am Clas sic. Wilke and Sheafer, teamed together on Calamari's lead bike, would be joined by five more Cala man combos in the 13-bike field. To win, we couldn't miss a beat. Our strategy was simple: Haul ass and keep off the grass. Grabbing the holeshot, I proceeded to ride at a sprint-race pace. Shortly past the 30minute mark, I’d put a full lap on Wilke as he exited the track to hand off to Sheafer. I pitted a few laps later, passing the Team CW KX80 to Paul. Sheafer chipped away at our advantage, getting back on the lead lap and eventually grabbing first place as we pitted for fuel and another rider change.

Daytona, Laguna Seca, Paul Ricard...Pangborn-this is racing! Our pitboard indicated I was steadily gaining on Sheafer, and soon he was in my sights. After slipping past him on the brakes, I turned up the heat and pulled away. Sheafer soon pitted for fuel and sent Wilke back out a lap down. Unfortunately, Calamari’s bid for the title ended when Wilke’s Suzuki motor seized a few laps later. Paul and I finished the race unpressured, tallying 151 laps, four more than Dan Merlino and Tim Rush aboard the second-place Calamari entry.

Our victory was popular among all who had choked on Calamari’s exhaust in past years. Even the Canadians seemed happy to see the prized trophy trade hands, though it would remain in California for another year.

It seems, though, that Team Caíamari had the final laugh: Upon arrival in the Kerrs’ living room, the multitiered wooden masterpiece self-destructed. Judging from the number of pieces, it may require an octopus to put it back together.