KEY POINTS:
I experienced two great motor racing events over the weekend and both on the same day.
First up was first day of the 30th Anniversary of the New Zealand Classic Motorcycle Festival at Pukekohe. The crowd on Saturday's racing was probably bigger than that which turns up for a round of the New Zealand Motorcycle Championships each year. There were over 350 bikes entered over the weekend, again probably more than at a championship meeting.
And who wouldn't want to go and see one of the true legends of 500cc Grand Prix racing, the long, tall Texan Kevin Schwantz.
I had just finished my motor cycle racing career in the UK when this mad American turned up on the scene with a style of racing virtually unseen before. It was like watching wide-eyed zealot wrestling a mad dog to the ground and then standing on its throat until it expired. Bloody marvellous, I can tell you. In fact, any motorcycle racing fan who has not seen Schwantz racing in his glory days should go and find a video - NOW.
Don't get me wrong, Schwantz wasn't the only hustler around at the time, just the most extreme. When he, Wayne Rainey, Eddie Lawson, Mick Doohan, Daryl Beatie and Wayne Gardner were duking it out, any back-markers caught up in that bun fight soon moved right out of the way. Those guys invented the phrase 'fairing bashing' and at race speed.
According to our chat, Schwantz said he didn't have any time to ride around and learn things the right way. It was all trial and error and if he stayed on, all well and good, and if he fell off there was enough pain to remind him not to that again.
Schwantz was in NZ to race a 1962 500cc Manx Norton at the classic festival. He was constantly asked if he'd ridden one before and he always replied by saying, "No. But it's got two wheels, an engine and shifts one way and stops. I'll figure it out."
He sure did, cleaning up as he went along. What a sight it was seeing an ex-500cc world champion holding a Manx Norton flat out, with his knee skimming the deck as he went over the hill onto the front straight at Puke.
The sound of all those open megaphones bellowing around the circuit and the smell of methanol made it a day to remember.
On my way back home from Pukekohe I stopped at the Speedway for the World midget car 50-lapper event in the evening. Anyone who drives those Midgets, let alone those huge Sprint cars must be as mad as a cut snake. Most of the time the bloody front wheels aren't even on the ground.
The drivers all have arms like Arnold Schwarzenegger from see-sawing the steering wheel back and forth. During the entire night of racing I don't think I saw a single car go in a straight line. I'll tell you something though, those little boy racers who think they can slide their pissy little Japanese imports around in the middle of the night don't have a clue.
In fact, I doubt even those drifting guys would come close to the car control shown by those speedway drivers. By the way, what is that drifting malarkey all about anyway - they don't even complete a lap. Bent.
I'll put my hand up and quite happily admit I was at a loss to follow a lot of what was going on during qualifying, let alone the other races that happened during the evening.
But it was the atmosphere, the packed crowd and ferocious racing that left an impression on me. Not to mention bevy after bevy of attractive women wandering around all evening. Any decent-looking young bloke who hasn't got a girlfriend would be well recommended to become a speedway fan.
No matter what the event was, the drivers throw everything into their racing including the kitchen sink, the bath tub and whatever else they can get their hands on. Needless to say there were quite a few crashes. At one stage a car leapt above the concrete and tried to mount the fence.
Normally after a full day's racing I'm a bit petrol-headed out but not that night. As I drove home late that evening I was wishing I could do it all over again on Sunday.
- Eric Thompson
Pictured above: Kiwi Brad Mosen during a recent international midget meeting at Western Springs. Photo / Greg Bowker
