Racing 50cc motorbikes

A small introduction of my riding:
My last Harley was a two litre monster but I loved it and on its maiden voyage after a year of building the engine took a nose dive and that was that and a week later I sold it and circumstance and fortune took me away from riding motorbikes this last ten years, but I miss having a bike to ride.
Back in the nineties when I had a place to call my own I would ride everywhere and every summer I’d go to the bike festivals, usually on my own which was the way I liked it, but sometimes in a group with one of the clubs I was a member of.
There’s nothing like the sound of twenty Harleys with open pipes thundering onto the grounds where ten thousand or more other bikers are camped.
Kent was the biggest event until they closed it down; but all the events were good and a good place to ride out to and meet others, hang out, drink beer and look at the rides and see the modifications and at night there’s be the bands.
On the bigger sites you’d see Blondie or Hawkwind or some other headliner band. It was a good lifestyle and I did that for a lot of years, and one day I hope to ride again before it’s too late.

I was in my mid-thirties when I raced little 50cc bikes, stripped down of anything unneeded.
I forget now the names of all the sites but they were all on the Welsh side of London along the M4 motorway.
The drawback for me was that I had to drive and not ride so I’d roll up in a van with the bike strapped in the back and go find a place to camp then go look for the others to see what they were doing.
I would always get there early because I hate being stared at by bikers when I’m driving but there was no other way to get the bike there to race. It was too far to ride there and they weren’t road legal anyway, but I think some did ride there but they must have lived close by and knew the back roads well.
The police usually stay away from biker gatherings because we look after our own and sort out any trouble ourselves and the police are just not welcome there, so they left us alone and we kept to ourselves and didn’t bother anyone.
It was a good arrangement that only a few fools took advantage of and they were quickly dealt with.
So, it was the start of the season and I’d spent the winter tinkering with my ride and getting the shrimp, which was what I called the scooter I’d stripped down, ready for racing which was basically a modified frame, two fat wheels for running on grass, a throttle to go, a skinny hard seat bolted to the frame and an engine that had a racing cylinder and carb and a whole lot of other little modifications that made it go as good as it could.

The machines were registered in our own names and a rider nominated. Some came as a team and had the small girls riding of seven stone, but I rode my own and of course was twice the weight of the smallest riders which was a big disadvantage on such small racing machines, and I always thought that if everyone was the same weight things would have been different.
First thing was to go see what everyone else was riding. They’d all be in the big field checking out what had been done and having little practice runs.
One time, a team that I was mates with had a blower hooked up, but it never worked right and I think it cost them the race.
NOS was banned but some did put additives in the fuel that didn’t seem to make much difference. I didn’t bother with any of that, my engine ran as good as it could get with all I’d done to it and additives would have made it run hotter and I didn’t want it blowing up half way through the race.
But the end of the season, after all the modifications and tinkering my machine was the fastest and everyone know it, it was just my extra weight that was against me, but I put up a good show.
Because the race was on grass over a short run, if you didn’t get off to a quick start, or if you missed the go then the race would be over before you even began it.
There’d be four bikes nose up to the line and whoever would get away first would usually win.
I had a way of doing it to get me off fast: when all was ready for the off, engine at the right revs, clutch ready to bite and all concentration on the green light to come on, I would lean forward, legs curled and ready to push me off and gain that head start and so when the green light came I’d push myself off way out front and win because when I was going, no one could catch me.

Of course, others caught on to what and how I got out front first and soon everyone was doing it, but not everyone had long legs as I did and so I kept my advantage and kept winning.
There was one team who had a skinny, tiny girl who was half my weight. Her machine had been made tiny just for her and so we always pushed off together and raced down the field. She’d get up to top speed fast but I would always start catching up to her and the finishing line would always come just before I could pass her, and although my bike was the fastest the length of the course was never quite long enough for me to get up to full speed, and try as I might I couldn’t get that extra spurt at the start that would give me the chance I needed. She was quick, as quick as me but I was faster and stronger, but she always beat me by a few inches.
If you lose concentration in these fast and short races, even for a moment then the race is over for you and so I won a lot that way by focusing on the now and that green light and letting everything else take care of itself.
Although there were others that were quick and fast it was always between me and her. I let her ride my bike once, at the end, on some waste ground, just me and her. Afterwards she told me that if she had my machine no one would ever get even close to her. She said it was much faster than hers.

I’m glad she told me that because it made me feel somewhat better when the final came. She won of course with me a steward’s decision behind her, and at the celebrations later we shook hands and said well done.
In the morning we went our separate ways knowing we’d done the best we could, and for me, maybe I could shave a few extra pounds off and lose some weight so that next year I’d be in with a chance. But next year never came because the insurance company stopped giving cover for the racing and that was that. But it was fun while it lasted.
Photos from Pixabay