ROADRACING - Thru the eyes of of a racer's wife

Through the Eyes of a Racer’s Wife BY: Ashley Esterline ROADRACING

Each off-season I’m told the same thing, “I’m just going to make little tweaks this year. Nothing major. I have no intention of tearing the bike down or doing anything fancy.” And when I’m able to wipe the smile off my face, my reply is always the same, “Ok, whatever you say,” laughing quietly to myself, knowing that statement is the furthest from the truth. 2019’s race season ended a bit more abruptly than anticipated. I stood by with high anxiety, late in the afternoon on Sunday at Barber, and watched as my husband, Matt, and Mike Dixon battled back and forth for third and fourth place. As the racers rounded the curve heading toward the start/finish line, I watched as the yellow number plates breezed past and counted—quickly—to see Matt’s position amongst the other racers. And I didn’t see him. Many race wives (and husbands, partners, sisters, brothers, friends, kids) have had that knotted feeling in the pit of their stomachs when they know something just doesn’t feel right. They know something happened, regardless of a yellow or red flag. As the race ended and the rest of the Sportsman 750 gents rode off the track, I was informed that: a) Matt was safe and b) he appeared to have had a mechanical issue that took him out. Matt received a chauffeured ride back to the pits on the crash truck and said that he started to hear something strange in the front end of the bike and pulled off the track before Charlotte’s Web. Initially, he thought it was a front-end issue, potentially a brake problem. Later, he surmised it was a tappet adjuster nut that had come loose, off the adjuster, and was rattling around in the engine; a 6mm nut that had been tightened and checked the week prior that cost him the last race of the season. Isn’t that always the case, though? A small, measly part or piece—a spark plug, a nut, a bolt—that costs you the win, or the race, or the championship? And then, the familiar diatribe of the offseason started: “It’ll be a light off-season. Don’t even worry about it. I’m glad I got off the track when I did, otherwise that nut could have caused some serious damage.”

I’ve learned in the few short years Matt’s been racing, chronicling my very amateur understanding of this race life, usually in person at these races, that you don’t jump to conclusions too quickly. Getting excited about an easy (inexpensive, even?) off-season is a rookie mistake.

We got home from Barber and Matt started digging in to see how much damage there was

AHRMA Family fun with Ashley, Jackson and Matt

to the motor. A long string of (many) expletives later, I learned that it wasn’t just a tappet adjuster nut that caused a mechanical issue with the bike. It wasn’t just a 6mm nut that loosened during the race. It was so much worse. Large chunks of metal were discovered in the carburetor boot and even more metal was discovered in the exhaust, resulting in a bent exhaust valve. Both the exhaust and intake values had broken off, the top of the number four piston was completely destroyed, and the number four connecting rod was also bent.

They, whoever they are, say not to count your chickens before they’re hatched. They should also tell you to never hedge your bets on a light offseason with some minor tweaks until you’re safely off the track after the last race of the year. The offseason teardown began relatively quickly and proceeded through the beginning of the year. I became good friends with our local Amazon Delivery Driver and our neighborhood Postal Worker, as countless packages arrived at the house every day. There were many weekend days where Matt would be a blur in-and-out of the house plugging away at completely rebuilding his engine.

The rebuild was multi-staged and required the help of many experts. The cases, crank, rods and cylinder were packaged up and sent to Cycle Exchange for an exhaustive once-over and fine-tuning. The boys at Cycle X went above and beyond to provide/replace the main bearings, connecting rod bearings, new connecting rod, new cylinder sleeve and new pistons. The original cylinder head was packaged up and sent to Mike Rieck for a thorough wellness check. Mike, being the cylinder head guru that he is, examined what Matt sent him and quickly determined that it would be a financial and technical nightmare to repair and strongly encouraged a fresh start. So, a new cylinder head was sent to Mike for port work and new valve installation. Additionally, after discovering cracks between the cooling holes, the front brake rotor was replaced. Matt rebuilt the forks with new seals/oil, a new seat was installed, and finally, new school bus yellow number plates were integrated on either side of the seat. I truly have no idea what most of these technical terms mean, but what I do know, is this offseason resulted in a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and time tearing down and building the bike back up again. And in pure vintage motorcycle fashion, each project took roughly two to twelve hours longer than anticipated. And if things couldn’t get any more complicated, Matt decided that Roebling Road would be his first race for the 2020 season. Roebling was not on our schedule for this year. It was too close to too many other activities we had going on and it just didn’t seem likely that the bike would be complete before the race. Again, another rookie mistake: never take your husband’s word for “______ will be my first race of the year,” unless you’re physically pulling out of the driveway and on your way to said race. Gunning for a championship season, Matt was bound and determined to get the bike completed and on the road for Roebling, taking little into account that we had a two-week family vacation planned to Disney, our son’s fifth birthday to celebrate, and a handful of out-of-state work trips planned leading up to the week of Roebling Road. Four and half days prior to leaving for Roebling, the completely renovated Sportsman CB750, 170-pound engine was sitting pretty in our basement, many feet and fourteen carpeted stairs away from the frame living in our garage. In an effort to remain as supportive as I could, I offered to help carry the engine up from the basement and into the garage. Having just gotten home from the gym and with a swollen sense of strength and ego, I ran to the basement to heave and haul the engine upstairs. After a bit of coaching, we hauled that

T H E U P S & D O W N S Matt ready for his first race of 2020

170 pound beast up the stairs and into the garage. Once the engine was in the garage, I felt the adrenaline and excitement that Matt must feel when he’s building his bike. I was ready to get my hands dirty and help get the engine into the frame. I asked if we could give it a try. Matt simply gave me a look that read something like, “Um, who are you and what have you done with my wife?” This was coupled with, “Do you have any idea what you just offered to help me with?” He explained that getting the engine in the frame was either a two-minute or two-hour job, and there was no real in-between. It either went in perfectly or it was a huge hassle and needed to be wiggled and jiggled and methodically placed into the fame—a task that was sometimes nearly impossible to complete. I told him we’d give it a try, and lo and behold, the engine went into the frame with ease in less than five minutes!

The following day came with final tweaks, finishing touches, minor assembly, and tightly crossed fingers that the engine would fire up and the bike would be operational. The bike. The Honda CB750 that exploded a short four and a half months prior. The Honda CB750 that had been in parts and pieces in my garage and basement. The Honda CB750 that had been the thorn in his side that left Matt awake many nights, started up on the first try. Matt’s “minor offseason project” that rapidly turned into the largest rebuild project yet, fired up with ease on a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon three days before it was time to leave for Roebling Road.

Matt ventured down to Roebling by himself this year, as I was unable to go, and other family members couldn’t swing the trip. He spent the unseasonably cold weekend with Shawn Smith who stepped in, as all AHRMA racers do, as pit crew and support for Matt. Going into the race Matt had his work cut out for him: Racer 1 – Tony Read, a very fast, very talented racer; Racer 2 – Bill Knox, who took first place last year at Roebling, were his competition for the weekend.

When my phone rang, after what seemed like hours after the race started, I waited in anticipation as Matt told me he took second place. He said that the bike felt great, he felt great, and he raced his heart out. He figured he wouldn’t be able to catch Tony but was trying with all his might to beat Bill—in an effort for redemption from last year. We celebrated and I said goodbye.

Shortly thereafter, I came back to my phone to find two missed calls and a handful of texts telling me to call him back as soon as possible. When I called back, I learned that when the race was over and Matt walked over to Tony to congratulate him, Tony shook Matt’s hand and congratulated him. Confused, Matt learned that Tony had some spark plug wire issues that forced him off the track earlier in the race. Unbeknownst to Matt, he was the leading racer and won! I don’t know if I’ve ever screamed louder in my life. Unfortunate for Tony, but what can you do? That’s the game and that’s racing. Sunday’s race played out much like Saturday’s race. Matt focused on keeping Tony and Bill in his line of sight. No spark plug wire issues on Sunday. Tony took first, Matt second, and Bill rounded out the podium in third place.

As the weather warms up, I’m itching to get back to the track. Race weekends have become mini-family reunions where, even with a great deal of healthy competition, the AHRMA family is simply that: a family who supports, encourages, and champions each other’s successes. Here’s to an exciting, safe, and eventful continuation of the season (with fingers tightly crossed for a limited need for spare parts and a mild, offseason that doesn’t involve another engine rebuild)!

O F R A C I N G # $ @ & % * ! Matt & Dave Ehrhart ham it up

We all got started somewhere. Whether your dad rode, or your crazy uncle used to take you for rides, or the neighbor had a bike and you always wanted one, we all started somewhere. For me? It all started with, well, I guess grand theft.

Moms garage back in the day - Honda Shadow 750, Yamaha XJ650, Kawasaki KX80, bunch of parts and still a few more bikes buried in there.

Like some, my brother and I were not allowed to own or ride motorcycles until we were 18. So, when my brother turned 18, what did he do? Bingo! He bought his first, and last, motorcycle. I was a couple years younger and wanted to ride that bike so badly. The bike wasn’t a runner when my brother purchased it, so I would sneak out to the garage while he was at work or out with friends and see what I could do. It took me about a week to get the carbs cleaned and get it fired up. Of course, I would always cross a few plug wires after working on it to give him something to fix. One day he headed off to work and I saw my chance. I grabbed a helmet, opened the garage, and fired it up. I made it all the way to the end of the driveway right as my brother suddenly returned home. Split decision time! Make a run for it or give up red-handed? For me, the answer was easy. ride it like you stole it! richard brodock style

I turned the throttle and grabbed another gear. If I was going to get a beating, this was as good a reason as any. When I returned home, there was no beating, just questions about how I got it running. From that day on my Mom had pretty much given up trying to keep me away from motorcycles and for the next five years, I probably passed 15 to 20 motorcycles through her garage before moving off for college.

15 years later, I finally have my own shop. A small two-car garage that quickly runs out of room if I have more than one project going at a time, which I do constantly. Doubling as a wood shop and a machine shop it is packed with power tools from saws, lathes, welding equipment, to wood projects, motorcycles, parts, and lumber. I was lucky enough a few years back to add a CNC machine to the mix.

turn and down the back straight, I knew I needed to give it a try. After just two seasons of running in the Thruxton Cup and CB160 classes, I suffered a nasty high-side, destroying my collarbone. 12 screws and a titanium plate later, I couldn’t wait to get back to racing. The only problem was, the current roadrace season had ended by the time I was cleared to ride. As it turned out, there was still more racing if I wanted it, flat track racing that is. I kept hearing people talking about “Celebration of Speed” in Shelbyville, TN, and I was curious. I thought, “What the heck, a chance to race. I’m in!” Armed with my Honda XR100, no clue of what I was doing, no steel shoe and a simple will to race, it made for a long day. I must have crashed 10 times, but by the end if it I was hooked. After a few seasons on a Honda XR100, I enlisted the help of Gary Braun, Carl Anderson and Frank Kays, and we built my go-to and all-time

There are many upsides and downsides to it. One perk is that I can make anything out of wood to prototype or check fitment before spending the time and money to make it out of metal. On the other side, motorcycle engines tend not to work well with sawdust in them. So, I am limited to what I can work on while I have an engine open or if I have a custom wood project going on, but I make do.

As for how racing came into my life, it was by chance really. A friend invited me to experience the Barber Vintage Festival in 2015. All the vintage bikes, the new bikes, the racing; I was in heaven. I had recently purchased a modern Triumph Bonneville and really enjoyed it, so when I saw a Thruxton come screaming out of the museum

1971 Triumph T120R

2009 KTM SX 450 F

favorite dirt track racer, my 1973 Yamaha CT175. In one year of dirt track racing my CT175 in local vintage classes, AHRMA races, and even making a trip to Michigan to see how I stacked up, I collected thirteen wins, three seconds, and two thirds. The love and enjoyment I get from dirt track racing is like nothing else. Racing inches from each other, handlebars touching, tires scraping, being so close you could just reach over and turn the other guy’s throttle for him, and knowing that the thrill and excitement you feel is only outdone by the stories, handshakes, and ear-to-ear smiles you share with those same competitors as soon as you hit the pits. Something I felt briefly in roadracing has really become a part of my life in dirt track racing. The sport, the competition, the excitement, and the family. I love my race family. Whether it’s AHRMA or the local tracks or wherever I find myself sliding sideways through the turns, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. That’s my story for now. What’s yours?