TMW
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Registered: 9-1-2003
Location: Bakersfield, CA
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Another NORRA Race Report
This is from Joe Desrosiers riding number 23 a 1972 CZ400.
I got this long winded report hashed out last night.
It's not as good as CW's and it's late, sorry:
#23 CZ 400 NORRA Report
Heading to the NORRA Mexican 1000 I realized this was going to be one of those occasions that nobody talks about before it happens, but everyone will
be talking about for years to come. When the notion of a vintage rally came together we decided to do this the way they did it back in the good old
days: one rider on an old bike. Sure we could have picked any newer motorcycle but this old CZ 400 was beckoning to be ridden. The challenge was set
to see if I could pilot an old steed, alone, all the way to La Paz.
Getting the bike ready early is always a good idea and just as I was about to mount the tires for the September run, a hurricane decimates
Baja and the rally is postponed. In the ensuing months we had more time to check out the top speed by changing the sprockets. The first ride with
motocross gearing the bike would barely break 58mph. After the switch of adding 5 teeth to the front and dropping 26 in the rear I got her up to
91mph. I figured she would get around 23mpg with this gearing and that the clutch would be fine slipping the four speed up to speed. This would be
critical to making the fuel distances needed with the 40 year old 3 gallon Vesco tank mounted. I also fitted the front wheels with magnetic pickups
for the odometer so we could follow the road book mileage. Road book racing is something new compared to riding on pre-marked courses and really
enhanced the feel of a rally raid. Next I decided to make the motorcycle even more Baja ready by mounting a head light to it. There was room in the
stator area for two more coils so with the help of Baja Designs winding the coils I mated them to the stator plate. I fabricated a head light frame
and she finally looked the part.
We packed some spares and headed to Mexicali for check in and Tech Inspection at the Colonial Hotel. Ah the smell of race gas and the
sights of a rolling antique auto museum brighten the morning. Seeing Bruce & Winnie Meyers, Rod Hall, Parnelli Jones, Malcolm Smith, Ron Bishop,
walking through the parking lot is something that would be impossible to recreate. Together were some new faces and some old ones all getting ready to
go south. The variety of different age equipment being readied in the parking lot, the different fevered levels of race face and smiles, and the
relaxing attitude of everyone there just enhanced the excitement and made the clock tick by way too quickly.
Race morning comes early so we all gear up and get on the bike. The Teams Husky’s problems begin early as the Harley Side car pull starts
both of our team’s rides until they are running. We head next door to line up for the parade out to Laguna Salada for the start. Instantly it seems
that the road book mileage is slightly off, but that is only because we all have different ideas on how to get to the Canyon de Guadalupe turnoff. So
after going around the block once I head out west on my own rolling the road book forward to the actual special start. At a red light I look back and
it appears that a lot of people are following me, so on we go. At the start the frenzy is heating up. Cameras are flashing, support people with their
over loaded their trucks are mulling over the race cars. There’s a menagerie of smoking varied vehicles ready to take on the desert and the clock. I
knew this would be the last time we’d see some of these contraptions, the Edsel, the Rambler, the Banshee, Jeeps, a Saab, two Porsches, a bunch of
Manx’s, a 1972 full size Suburban. Some looked like they would make it, but a lot of them did not. I wonder what the differences in average speed will
be between them.
As the green flag begins to fly, the vehicles roll off the line. It feels like we’ve gone back in time. The wind is blowing hard and the
dust trails beginning to disappear in front of me as my start time approaches. I get waved off the line and the journey begins. Instantly it becomes
obvious that I’ll need to adjust the timing for this bike to make it through the first special. It starts sounding like a knock at the door. Then as
the road becomes deeper sand it starts to sound like I’m dragging a bag of hammers behind me. I stop for a moment and open the case where the ignition
is, retarding the timing slightly. Quickly I pack it up before any vehicles pass. It still knocks loudly at full throttle. I pass the 1972 Datsun pick
up. It reminds me of the Chevy LUV I drove after high school. It even has the blown exhaust gasket sound like mine did. A little north of the lake bed
I see the Side hack pulled over but they wave me past. Collins passes me as I’m overtaking the sprint car in some rough bumps. I get to the lake bed
and it looks wet. I stay on the main trail looking for the first Mag 7 pit so I can make another adjustment to the timing to try to save the motor
from self destruction. I head out to the finish of the first stage with the motor still complaining about the fuel quality. I pull into the time
control and find my time card. They write the arrival time on the front fender and my time sheet and wave me through. It is different to be involved
with scoring this way and seems relaxing compared to the usual way of being scored. I pull up to our chase truck where Team DP Racing Steve “Seve”
Bourgeois, Jimmy Lopez, and Terrence Caster are waiting , telling me I’m first motorcycle through. The handle bar tank was not flowing enough air to
allow gas to enter the carburetor fast enough. The old plastic gas cap is also not staying on properly either. This will haunt me for the next few
days. I also make another adjustment to the timing to hopefully prevent the bike from breaking. The guys tell me that many others are blown up out on
course and I might be the only two pop still running. We remove the fork tank and subvert to the gallon bottle on the waist belt for reserve fuel
capacity. Next we high tail it to the start of the second special. The sidecar #22 arrives just as we depart.
The second special stage start begins without the crowds and cameras. It is starting to feel like Baja should, on a motorcycle with an
empty road ahead and a full tank of gas between my legs. Down the road I go after checking in with the time keeper and getting waved off by a flagger.
It is full throttle all the way to the Laguna Diablo dry lake bed. Just before turning on to the lake there is that sprint car with a broken axle in
the middle of the road just past a big dip. I hear on the radio that the side car is right behind me a few minutes and not soon after that they pass
me in the middle of the lake. We get to the bumps before Zoo Road and I get creative trying to pass the side car on a smooth side path. I catch their
dust but they are too fast. Pulling into the Mag 7 pit for fuel I catch the side car and hastily head out at the same time as they do down the trail.
Scott Whitney and Kevin Anderson do all they can to pass me back while riding through the deep whoops to San Felipe. I head into the trees again
seeking out a smoother path. I’ll do anything to avoid the four foot tall bumps on my bike with three inches of suspension. When the side class 11
smooth paths end I pull back onto the main course right in front of the three wheeler and pin it for all I got to the stage finish. It is about
bragging rights after all. I may not be faster than the V-Rod but I got a quicker time in the first two specials so far. I ride down to the Malecon
and then to the gas station for fuel and water before rolling towards the third special start in Puertecitos.
We start in the dirt then hit a new wide road for a few miles before returning to the wretched rocky road to Gonzaga and Coco’s Corner. I
catch and pass the Rambler and just as I pull out of their sight it happens. I hit the rock you never see but feel real well knocking the gas cap off
and filling my goggles and mouth with gas. As I complete my flying “W” I luckily land on the seat quickly dropping my goggles to my neck just in time
to hit a second more violent jolt knocking me one handed into the air again. I’m not as lucky the second time as the bike kicks to the side and I land
on my knees at over 70 mph. Somehow on the way down I get my other hand on the grip but the bars drop flat on the tank. It runs through my mind, “So
this is how it is going to happen, I wonder how bad it will turn out?” as flip end over end violently a few times smashing into rocks with my helmet
before beginning to slide down the side of the road landing knees first on a drainage culvert headwall. The bike rolls to a stop just in front of me
leaning on the side of the hill. I crawl to the top of the bank for help because I know I cannot get up on my own. Gary Dixon in the Lost Boys Racing
American Rambler stops and asks if I’m alright or if I need help. I ask him to please give me a hand getting back on my bike .He collects my gas jug,
brings down some tools to lift the bars and gets some zip ties then picks up my bike for me. That saved me an hour. I tell him to get going and that
I’ll be alright now. THANKS FOR HELPING I yelled as they peel out. The bike starts in five kicks so we’re back in the game. Slowly I begin to feel the
extent of my damages and start looking for trail without big rocks to knock me off again. While hunting for terra smootha I notice the side hack and
Chris Wilson’s Bronco blow past me on the road. Mike Shatynski & George Earl’s class 9 car goes by along with the McMillin trio next, then Tim
Morton on a very slow going XR600. Coco’s comes up not soon enough and I meet one of the Hale brothers gassing me up. Off to Laguna Chapala for the
finish for the day.
That night in Bay of LA I hit up the Baja Fools for some blended medication. Ray and Bozo never disappoint, even LR stopped in for some.
They hook me up with some quality first aide. Mean while the DP (dedicated people) Crew changed the air filter and smashed pipe on the CZ for me.
The next day we noticed that the front rim is split down the middle for six inches.
Morning breaks and it’s time to go again. We line up in staging an hour before we need to. I try to not have to walk or smell the fumes
from the hopped up race cars or sit in the sun too long. Anticipation is getting to everyone. Race faces all around new and old. Billy Roberson pulls
some tuna crackers from his pocket and offers them to me. Steve Kassiyani form Checkers rolls by to say hello and drops off some Motrin.
A few other stop when the see my bike. The biggest question leading up to this event was WHY?Why would you choose THAT bike? What did you
lose a bet? How come? Why would you do that? For what? What for? Are you OK? Isn’t there an easier way to need back surgery? Couldn’t you find a
better bike? Did you truly think through what you just told me you were going to do?
As these questions get asked over and over again I begin to question my decision. Oh well, too late now. My turn to start & off we go.
Just like that I forget the pain in my knees and ride on through the big valleys to El Arco. I pass Gay Smith at the tight left corner before Rafael’s
with a big puddle of smelly oil under his car. It looks fine but I hear later that he rolled there. A few faster buggies, a Ford Ranger, the Ivan
replica Toyota pickup all pass by. Later just after the gold mine a big motored Jeep blows by before the big fast road to Vizcaino. What a fun course
so far if I just stay off the ground.
The next special is through San Ignacio to La Purisima. It’s like a dream with the cool weather, sunny skies, and a bike loaded with gas.
With the long smooth road ahead I realize that it is my first time on it in daylight in a long time so I pin the throttle. 40 miles later I see Tom
and friends at the Datil turn off with the side car right behind me again. Off to the salt flats as the V-rod passes me at speed. I cut a few spots
short while seeing Scott looking at the road book and pass them back on the outside going as fast as she’ll go. Then it is back to deep sand whoops
and the hack goes by again. Through Cadaje and the military check, over the hills to the San Juanico Mag 7 pit for fuel. The gas is red. I insist they
give me different fuel, he insists there is oil in it. We mix new fuel with my oil. Back on the road again I wind up the road book and adjust the
reset mileage. The road book says turn right as a turn appears, next turn is left on pavement and there is the pavement, but it looks strange? Down
the road I go, and then the road ends. I see a well traveled road across the wash and head down about ten miles before coming to what looks like an
old abandoned town. There are power lines so I head towards them and find more pavement, four miles later there is a sign for La Purisima. What seems
like 20 miles and an hour and I’m finally on the San Isidro road to Loreto. I have just 26 more rocky miles to complete for the day on the bike and
what a relief it will be when it is over. I get to remove the torture devices (knee pads) from my aching knees for the evening along with a healthy
dose of Motrin. We get to the hotel and prep the bike for tomorrow while waiting for room assignments and bags from within the locked trucks. There
is a little confusion with who sleeps where before getting dinner and a bed before the start of a new day. I blame my wrong turn on not eating enough
that afternoon. We plan a stop on day three for a chicken in Cd. Constitution for lunch.
Day three starts with a confusion over the time change from Pacific to Mountain Time. Again we line up too early and skip breakfast. Stacy
David strolls past and “Whoa that’s a real old one!” he says. We chat for a while before he wanders off. Larry Roeseler sitting in Norman’s truck is
telling how he will only get to drive for 60 miles that day. The parade to the wash for the timed start seems chaotic and unorganized. People are
trying to pull out of their drive ways to head to work while we are buzzing by. I almost get caught off guard by a car pulling out during our parade.
Barking dogs chasing the race cars, the smells of burning plastic, dust in the air, a light two stroke oil scent. Three race days in a row on an old
bike in Baja, what could be better? Under the bridge for the highway we line up for the timed release. Up the wash a mile and there are the kids
laughing and pointing. It looks like a field of dry grass not a race course. Then it is back down into the wash again with four cars parked up to
their doors in the deep sand. Tow straps are stretched across the trail as guys are waving frantically to warn us of their obstructions. They must
have thought I was ignoring them as I speed closer and closer. I pick a route right past the Edsel and the Rambler that scooped me up a couple days
earlier. I feel helpless as I pass by getting back on course. There is a 4x4 Jeep making good time and lots of dust right in front of me. A strong gas
smell fills the air and the ground looks wet. Someone was leaking a lot of fuel. Soon we’re up on the pavement again and heading towards San Javier.
As I pass the Datsun pickup, he cuts towards me and my handle bars tangle in the side window nets for a moment. A few minutes later I pass Parnelli
Jones as he clears a stream/rock crossing. There’s a pass I won’t soon forget! On a motorcycle of the same vintage as his first Baja 1000 win no less!
Next I see the 1989 CR250 of George Pennington in front of me. Any racer knows that dust in your way and what drives us to push through it for clean
air. I miss two turns trying to get by him. Next sharp corner I almost miss and he pulls over and stops. I pin the throttle slipping by before he
figures out what happened. I feel like David beating Goliath. Full throttle now knowing I’ve got a chicken waiting for me in the car and nothing’s
going to stop me from eating the whole thing!
With 175 miles to go and being the only two stroke left running, it’s time to just cruise it in. Down the beautiful west coast of Baja the
parade of antique racers and drivers head. Four more tanks of fuel and then it’ll be over. I wanted to slow it down and make it last forever.
Actually I just really didn’t want to fall down again. I feels like a second ago I was just starting when I pull into Santa Rita after the big whoops
for a splash of gas. I get a sandwich from Seve and the DP boys then onto the broken concrete looking rocks. The gas cap must have fallen off a dozen
times through there. A couple of hand stands later it was smooth sailing to the end. I check into the final timing control, get unto the pavement and
hang a perfect wheelie down the road to the Malecon Finish for a BEER!
What a ride! I couldn’t have made it without the support of Desmond McDonald, Seve and the DP crew, Mark Anderson and Team Hog Wild, CR High
Performance, Baja Designs, Joe Hauler with Family support, One Industries, Checkers Off Road and Mag 7. I felt so lucky to finally be a part of the
family of off roaders I always look up to. Now I know how tough those old buggers are. They had to be tough, just like they said they were!
Subject: #23 71 CZ 400 NORRA ride report
I’m a little behind in getting this out, sorry for the delay.
Thanks again to everyone who helped make it happen!
Joe Desrosiers
Survival Systems International
P.O. Box 1855
34140 Valley Center, CA 92082
760-749-6800 x=236
760-749-6804 fax
www.SurvivalSystemsInternational.com
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64722
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
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Mood: Have Baja Fever
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This event sounds wonderful... I hope NORRA will be able to do it again! Much friendlier, low stress Baja run. I wonder if Malcolm Smith still had he
big smile on like he had in 1967 or '68 when ABC Wide Woirld of Sports interviewed him as he raced the first or second Mexican 1000?
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StevenB
Newbie
Posts: 6
Registered: 1-12-2010
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It's not long-winded whatsoever. It shows the true compassion of a motorcycle racer - and makes you feel you were there right with him.
What TW fails to mention is that he gassed Joe north of El Datil - the "Tom" Joe refers to.
Thanks, TW!
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capt. mike
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8085
Registered: 11-26-2002
Location: Bat Cave
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Mood: Sling time!
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i am proud to be a friend of Joe, Seve and the crew at DP racing.
i have met few with the passion for riding that Joe exemplifies.
and DP, as a privateering racing team does as well as those with HUGE sponsorships - that's why they are known as the Determined People!
formerly Ordained in Rev. Ewing\'s Church by Mail - busted on tax fraud.......
Now joined L. Ron Hoover\'s church of Appliantology
\"Remember there is a big difference between kneeling down and bending over....\"
www.facebook.com/michael.l.goering |
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