The following story appeared in the BMW club track day hand book in edited form, for those who may have read it before, this is the full unedited version!
In the motorcycling community I am known for riding long distances, in the working world as a welder, in the pub for drinking Guinness mixed with coke and in everything else my tendencies to run out of petrol, this is partly due to my dislike of deploying my wallet until it's absolutely necessary to do so!
The moral of the story is, no matter how much you are enjoying the track, the situation, or the company, you still need to take care of the essentials and know the procedures, or you will suffer!
Of the numerous times I have run out of fuel, in most of the vehicles I have owned, 2 specific occasions spring to mind, both impossible to hide, cover up or deny. The first was at Cadwell Park whilst competing in the Vincent club race meeting. I'd had quite a successful day, the meeting had run smoothly with no stoppages and about 4.30 over the PA came "attention paddock, attention paddock, the first 24 riders down to the warming up area can have an extra 10 lap race". Sayings about 'gift horses' and 'he who hesitates' came to mind and it seemed like a race in itself to get kitted up and down the slope to the warming up area hoping to be at the front end of the rush!
I was one of the first 24 to get there and led the race for about 6 laps. Then, running flat out after Mansfield (in the days before the chicane before the left turn into Cadwell's famous Mountain), there was that all too familiar misfire on one cylinder that told me my one litre air cooled boxer was running out of petrol.Being a weakling I made the instant decision to make it back to the paddock and avoid pushing what seemed like half a ton of heavy metal up the slope beside the mountain. My principal regret about this incident (apart from the obvious and not winning), is that I did not stop beside the track to let the second and third place riders know they were dicing for the lead.
Another memorable catastrophe was in Germany, to be continued...
Fuel management
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Fuel management
Last edited by bins on Mon Nov 11, 2013 4:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Another memorable occasion was in Germany, in the good old days, (only about 5 years ago) when the Mulheim Ruhr club still ran Nurburgring training courses. We had 2 days of section training then an assessment lap and the event was finished for us, that is until everyone had done their lap and the circuit opened for public traffic.
While waiting a few of us went karting, we met a Dutchman and his son who were debating whether to do a lap or not, then we went and watched at one of the vantage points where we met 2 lads from Stoke. We explained how we'd been on this course and they were really enthusiastic, been waiting for 2 days for the chance to ride the Nordschliefe. It was a miserable wet afternoon and it did nothing for our street cred when I pointed out our instructors riding slowly back after finishing their marking duties (they later said it was the most slippery they had know it).
I offered the two lads the chance to follow me round (in the wet) and they accepted. When we entered the car park it was full of exotic machinery, and despite the still damp conditions the place was buzzing. I had a coffee with a Swiss couple and it was time to do a lap or two. I explained to the Stoke lads about getting through the barrier then waiting on the right and trying to let any fast looking cars through to try and get a few miles on our own, away we go and they keep up well, at the end of the lap they are beaming with excitement and rush off to buy more laps. We do another together, this time the track is drying, on the last corner I wind the F800S up and hit 130 at the bottom of the dip on the finish straight, so back in the car park they take an interest in my bike for the first time.
It is getting warmer and we are all keen for more. I have a lap left on my ticket and I go off on my own, after about 3 miles the amber light catches my eye (it had been on all afternoon, the count down of miles had gone from 0 to three dashes, all the bars on the gauge had disappeared, what bit of that didn't I get?) O M G I've got no petrol! Rather than speed up and try and get back before I run out, I backed off and thought about what to do. I could have left the circuit at Adenau but I decided to trust my luck.
About a mile after Breidshied bridge the inevitable happened, I'd just turned into Bergwerk and the engine cut out. I coasted to the side and was backing it up to hide behind the armco ahen the Swiss couple stopped asking if they could help. I said "tell my friend, Green Triumph" "you need tow truck" they replied.
I knew that sending out a recovery vehicle was going to mean paying a very large bill before they would give me my bike back. I was pannicking and said "no don't tell anyone, no tow truck, don't tell" and then "yes tell my friend"
Off they went and I hoped they'd use their discretion. Also I knew there was a path from the corner Bergwerk back to the road and down to Adenau. By now it's nearly 7 pm and the track closes at 7.30. I had to cross the track right in the middle of one of the most dangerous, blind corners, a fast car would be doing 80+ trough here, I listened as best I could and made the dash across the tarmac and clambered over the armco to be met with a slippery slope down to a plank across a stream. A muddy path of a couple of hundred yards led to the road to the village where I was hoping to aquire fuel and would you believe, not one car passed as I ran the mile or more to the Aral garage a short distance from where the track goes over the road through the village.
To avoid being cut off as I have been before I'll continue...
While waiting a few of us went karting, we met a Dutchman and his son who were debating whether to do a lap or not, then we went and watched at one of the vantage points where we met 2 lads from Stoke. We explained how we'd been on this course and they were really enthusiastic, been waiting for 2 days for the chance to ride the Nordschliefe. It was a miserable wet afternoon and it did nothing for our street cred when I pointed out our instructors riding slowly back after finishing their marking duties (they later said it was the most slippery they had know it).
I offered the two lads the chance to follow me round (in the wet) and they accepted. When we entered the car park it was full of exotic machinery, and despite the still damp conditions the place was buzzing. I had a coffee with a Swiss couple and it was time to do a lap or two. I explained to the Stoke lads about getting through the barrier then waiting on the right and trying to let any fast looking cars through to try and get a few miles on our own, away we go and they keep up well, at the end of the lap they are beaming with excitement and rush off to buy more laps. We do another together, this time the track is drying, on the last corner I wind the F800S up and hit 130 at the bottom of the dip on the finish straight, so back in the car park they take an interest in my bike for the first time.
It is getting warmer and we are all keen for more. I have a lap left on my ticket and I go off on my own, after about 3 miles the amber light catches my eye (it had been on all afternoon, the count down of miles had gone from 0 to three dashes, all the bars on the gauge had disappeared, what bit of that didn't I get?) O M G I've got no petrol! Rather than speed up and try and get back before I run out, I backed off and thought about what to do. I could have left the circuit at Adenau but I decided to trust my luck.
About a mile after Breidshied bridge the inevitable happened, I'd just turned into Bergwerk and the engine cut out. I coasted to the side and was backing it up to hide behind the armco ahen the Swiss couple stopped asking if they could help. I said "tell my friend, Green Triumph" "you need tow truck" they replied.
I knew that sending out a recovery vehicle was going to mean paying a very large bill before they would give me my bike back. I was pannicking and said "no don't tell anyone, no tow truck, don't tell" and then "yes tell my friend"
Off they went and I hoped they'd use their discretion. Also I knew there was a path from the corner Bergwerk back to the road and down to Adenau. By now it's nearly 7 pm and the track closes at 7.30. I had to cross the track right in the middle of one of the most dangerous, blind corners, a fast car would be doing 80+ trough here, I listened as best I could and made the dash across the tarmac and clambered over the armco to be met with a slippery slope down to a plank across a stream. A muddy path of a couple of hundred yards led to the road to the village where I was hoping to aquire fuel and would you believe, not one car passed as I ran the mile or more to the Aral garage a short distance from where the track goes over the road through the village.
To avoid being cut off as I have been before I'll continue...
Continued from the last post.
I first had to buy a can to fill up, the lady behind the counter said "ist eine problem?" I replied "Ya! keine benzine, mein moto ist at Bergwerk" "affen kopf" I gerstured as I slapped my head. As I was leaving the shop a young lad on a step through asked if he could help. I said "please take me to Bergwerk" and he slipped the can in between his feet. I sat on the back and off we went, you know the sound, 49ccs pulling 2 people up hill, burrrrrr. When we got to the end of the path I thanked him sincerely, wished him a happy motorcycling career and went to climb back where I came down. "No" he shouted and pointed to the right. I took his advice and was met with a pipe across the stream which I 'tight rope walked' across, then up the steep slippery bank, only to be met with the catch fence. He obviously had not been up there lately!
Back across the pipe and up where I originally came down, I had to cross the track again, I listened and made a mad dash to the grass on the inside, can you imagine what it was like trying to run to where I'd parked the bike, my feet felt like lead.
I squeeze the can as hard as possible to speed the flow, then I cannot bear to throw the can away (I'd only just paid for it) so I thread the bungee through the handle and it's upside down on the back seat. I've done enough off road riding to know the danger of riding from grass to tarmac so I go at least half a mile before I open it up, another half a mile and there's someone waving a hi-viz.
My immediate thought was to work out approximately how many of the circuit's rules I had briken; walking on the track, crossing the circuit boundary, abandoning a vehicle, riding with an unsafe load, (the bungee'd fuel can) and riding while the circuit was officially closed all came to mind. Then I remembered that in law the circuit is subject to German traffic laws and surely the fuel can would be an offence under those as well. I thought I was caught but a car had spun and backed into the armco so I completed the lap. In the car park the Dutchman recognised me and said "go" pointing to the gate with a certain urgency in his voice, the car park was nearly empty by now, I've got a bright blue petrol can on the back seat and I'm trying not to attract any attention!
Just before Nurburg village I see the Swiss couple and they assure me no tow truck was commissioned. Adam (my friend) was in the hotel car park and I ask "you didn't tell them anything did you" At my B&B I back my number plate tight up against the house wall and hide the can under some leaves in the hedge, I've got 10 minutes to get showered, shaved and down to the Dorint for the presentation dinner, I always text my other half to let her know the day went well, however I didn't mention I was wanted by the Nurburg Gestapo! As I emerged from the front door I expected the street to be lit with flashing lights as all and sundry are looking for the crazy Englishman who runs out of petrol, I look left and right and all is clear. I am making my way through a short cut to the Dorint back door when someone on a scooter is shouting at me, but he's only telling me the entrance is closed, he obviously hadn't heard the news or my disguise was working. Once inside a tight group surrounded me all evening, Barry said if I kept them in beer they would keep coming up with alibis, 3 of us were planning the best course of action to take when making the border crossings into Belgium and France, should we go for one of the remote, smaller roads which may be unattended, or one of the major routes and hope Peter's German and my disguise sees us through? Chris casually comes over and says "Robert, they have a can of petrol in the office for people like you, they send out a fast car and all you do is pay for the fuel"
I first had to buy a can to fill up, the lady behind the counter said "ist eine problem?" I replied "Ya! keine benzine, mein moto ist at Bergwerk" "affen kopf" I gerstured as I slapped my head. As I was leaving the shop a young lad on a step through asked if he could help. I said "please take me to Bergwerk" and he slipped the can in between his feet. I sat on the back and off we went, you know the sound, 49ccs pulling 2 people up hill, burrrrrr. When we got to the end of the path I thanked him sincerely, wished him a happy motorcycling career and went to climb back where I came down. "No" he shouted and pointed to the right. I took his advice and was met with a pipe across the stream which I 'tight rope walked' across, then up the steep slippery bank, only to be met with the catch fence. He obviously had not been up there lately!
Back across the pipe and up where I originally came down, I had to cross the track again, I listened and made a mad dash to the grass on the inside, can you imagine what it was like trying to run to where I'd parked the bike, my feet felt like lead.
I squeeze the can as hard as possible to speed the flow, then I cannot bear to throw the can away (I'd only just paid for it) so I thread the bungee through the handle and it's upside down on the back seat. I've done enough off road riding to know the danger of riding from grass to tarmac so I go at least half a mile before I open it up, another half a mile and there's someone waving a hi-viz.
My immediate thought was to work out approximately how many of the circuit's rules I had briken; walking on the track, crossing the circuit boundary, abandoning a vehicle, riding with an unsafe load, (the bungee'd fuel can) and riding while the circuit was officially closed all came to mind. Then I remembered that in law the circuit is subject to German traffic laws and surely the fuel can would be an offence under those as well. I thought I was caught but a car had spun and backed into the armco so I completed the lap. In the car park the Dutchman recognised me and said "go" pointing to the gate with a certain urgency in his voice, the car park was nearly empty by now, I've got a bright blue petrol can on the back seat and I'm trying not to attract any attention!
Just before Nurburg village I see the Swiss couple and they assure me no tow truck was commissioned. Adam (my friend) was in the hotel car park and I ask "you didn't tell them anything did you" At my B&B I back my number plate tight up against the house wall and hide the can under some leaves in the hedge, I've got 10 minutes to get showered, shaved and down to the Dorint for the presentation dinner, I always text my other half to let her know the day went well, however I didn't mention I was wanted by the Nurburg Gestapo! As I emerged from the front door I expected the street to be lit with flashing lights as all and sundry are looking for the crazy Englishman who runs out of petrol, I look left and right and all is clear. I am making my way through a short cut to the Dorint back door when someone on a scooter is shouting at me, but he's only telling me the entrance is closed, he obviously hadn't heard the news or my disguise was working. Once inside a tight group surrounded me all evening, Barry said if I kept them in beer they would keep coming up with alibis, 3 of us were planning the best course of action to take when making the border crossings into Belgium and France, should we go for one of the remote, smaller roads which may be unattended, or one of the major routes and hope Peter's German and my disguise sees us through? Chris casually comes over and says "Robert, they have a can of petrol in the office for people like you, they send out a fast car and all you do is pay for the fuel"
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