Perhaps it's the cynic in me coming to the fore, suffering from being trapped by long New England winters (although we've enjoyed some mild winters the past few years, the roads are still covered with salt, sand and gunk from late Nov.
thru March) but I stopped up to see the one and only Robbie
Nigl of Peach Pit Racing yesterday. I was dropping off some bodywork for my beloved 1992
Ducati 851 for some minor repair and a fresh re-spray; some may argue that repainting original 1992 bodywork is
sacrilege, but they probably don't know Robbie or his legendary paint-work. Many of us here in New England feel quite fortunate to have someone so talented in the art of paint and body repair within driving distance, let alone someone who works almost exclusively on
Ducatis. While getting a
brief tour of his attic it's not uncommon to find multiple sets of early-90's
Superbike bodywork lying around in various states of finish, not to mention many vintage sets of '70's
SuperSports and such awaiting the satin-smooth final touches of paint before being returned to their owners... of course you'll probably see several Monster tanks receiving one-off paint jobs that are
truly fit for resting on a coffee table, let alone a
chromoloy trellis frame.
I came to know Robbie through racing as he's one of the fastest guys I've had the pleasure of coming to know, I knew him from the paddock but it wasn't until a trip to Summit Point in West Virginia where Robbie and his buddy Jay Payton tagged along hitching a ride for them and their bikes in our rig, when I finally got to really get to know the guy. I dislocated my shoulder after a 120+ mph crash in Supertwins and I'll always thank Robbie and Jay for keeping my spirits up, even though they seemed to enjoy my Percoset-induced sense of joy on the long ride home.
Needless to say, he repaired and painted my race bike after that spectacular crash... but I first needed his true talents after my coveted 1993 888 SPO's kickstand sunk in some hot pavement, falling over on its side destroying an entire body panel. About a month after dropping off bits and pieces with Robbie, my 888 SPO won "Best in Class" at the Larz Anderson Classic European Bike Show. I knew he repaired race-glass and did some neat race paint jobs, but this was an entirely different ball of wax and the results were stunning.
In any event, I was in need of his handy work again after some lady in a rush to leave work mid-afternoon pulled a u-turn 100 feet in front of me, the ensuing stoppie was nearly completed without drama, however the rear end of the by-modern-terms heavy 851 swung around and she toppled over... so off I went to Canterbury and to see an old friend. We caught up on things, racing plans, the new Ducati superbikes and how phenomenal they looked (not just visually, mind you)... we chatted about getting together to go riding and who's riding these days; and a comment he made resounded with me.
"Why isn't there a riding club around here, man? You know, that has barbeque's and has a ride once a week, EVERY week? There aren't any riding clubs around here anymore, we need that."
I couldn't help remember my initial emergence as a local Ducatisti some 7 years ago now. My first bike was a '97 GSX-R 600 and like so many others I know, I really wanted a Ducati but the cheap in-line 4 Suzuki was all I could afford. I rode it for 3 months or so piling up miles at a breakneck pace, until going out for a (near) midnight ride I was making a left hand turn off my road... as I looked to my left all I remember was seeing four headlights before everything went black.
I laid there in the hospital bed at 2 or 3 in the morning, finally coming to for a brief period to see my mom sitting next to me, her cheeks stained from tears. I knew this was her ultimate fear, to get that middle of the night phone call that every parent knows is bad news even before the ringing phone wakes them from their sleep. I remember talking with her, telling her I'm OK and everything's fine... and I asked her to bring me something from home the following day. I wanted her to bring me some print outs of some Ducatis I had been looking at in the classifieds. I realized later, after I was more clear-headed that this request probably was the last thing my mother wanted to hear while seeing her son in a hospital room with a leg the size of a telephone pole, but she just smiled and said she would bring them the following day. One of those ads was my next bike, my first Ducati, a 1993 Ducati 888 SPO.
I was bandaged with a cast on arm and leg, and had called about the 888 and decided to go down and see it, cash in hand. Only problem was, I couldn't drive, nor did I have a truck or a trailer... so I went out and found the local Ducati group the Crazed Ducati Riders of Massachusetts (or CD-ROM) and put out a plea for help. A member known by most as "Panty Boy" (interesting story on how he got that name in it of itself) offered a ride down to pick it up and graciously offered to "test ride" it for me.
So off we went, PB was middle-aged family man and one of the nicest guys you could ever meet despite the fact that here I was some 18 year old punk kid buying a ridiculously rare Ducati superbike. Thinking back he probably thought I was a rich punk or something of the sort but he was nice as can be and gleamed upon returning from the test ride that "If you don't buy this, I will!" So there I was, a proud owner of my very first Ducati... not a bad start eh?
So fast forward a few weeks, I've proudly taken picture after picture of my new obsession, even arranged chairs around it in the garage for myself and friends to admire. Only problem was, I couldn't ride it with half of my appendages in a cast and the North East Ducati Rally was upon us. Undeterred I hitched a ride with a friend of mine up to the track and hobbled around on casts with pictures of my new pride and joy in pocket. I remember this now as somewhat silly, but I had people from CD-ROM I wanted to meet and promised I'd be there. Soon enough I found my way to a trailer in the pits of one CD-ROMmer Ducati Steve who was kind enough to offer me a chair, water and aspirin for my ankle. I ended up hanging out there most of the day... and soon knew I had to join Steve and start racing a Ducati.
The rest they say is history, and I rode with Steve under the Great White Racing banner for nearly 4 years, joined by Matty, Tom, Joe, Steve P, Kevin, and Mike eventually. At one point we had a solid outfit going with 5 riders, a crew chief (later turned racer himself, Kevin "Frosty") and things were going very well.... all of which were directly or indirectly a result of the riding group I'd stumbled upon because of my lack of patience for getting my first Ducati.
Sadly, my trusty 748 race bike met it's unfortunate end in Turn 8, Great White Racing mostly disbanded with the two newest riders (Joe and Kevin) going on to continue racing as independent efforts, the CD-ROM server crashed, and many of the guys who made up the core of CD-ROM had started to ride less, spend more time with family, and generally start to have less activity going on within CD-ROM. Since then a yahoo group has been formed, but is mostly an email list with not too many actual group rides or activities and there has been a general void left in the local riding community.
I hadn't really realized this fully until yesterday up at Robbie's place. I've been enjoying some close friends and occasional rides that are often phenomenal rides. One of us or another will get a ride together or randomly email everyone asking to go for a ride after work, but regular rides, events, and such have largely been overlooked. For the year or so after I stopped racing in 2003, I organized the CD-ROM monthly dinners at Boston Beer Works and I think most who attended genuinely enjoyed themselves. Why not do it again...
So... a riding group? That's exactly what is needed. It doesn't have to be Ducati only, as many of my friends who ride a lot have other bikes, but what it does need is some leadership, organization, a core of loyal members who put serious miles in during the season and definitely... definitely a secret handshake.
I'll keep you posted on the progress.... I can't wait for spring.
