Like Pocahontas and Breaker-Bar said, I should’ve tried to make the corner anyway, instead I fixed-forward my eyes and tightened my arms.
Grass. Gravel.
3 trackdays ago, I put new CL brake pads on NickTheBike;
2 trackdays ago I put a Brembo master cylinder on him;
On this fair-weather-friends Monday, I experimented with shorter brake-markers at Turn 1. At least with the rapid downshifts, the new undercut transmission from Spears wasn’t throwing false-neutrals. So there’s that.
NickTheBike warned me.
The prior lap I’d felt weak braking at Turn 1. I was able to slow enough to botch the corner and be grateful no other bike was on my ass, or passing outside. This last session of the day, I should have cooled my jets, last session of the day and all, and pitted-in to have a look.
Poor. Life. Choices.
This time around
“Oh shit, no brakes”
Grass. Gravel. Hot exhaust pipe lying on top of my leg as the ambulance rolled.
Tuesday, Jason and I pulled off the pads. Had 1 delaminated? They were both equally, bare-metal, shot.
Failure to TLC NickTheBike
Failure to listen to NickTheBike
Those brake pads were smoked after 3 trackdays. Too racey for me. Going back to pedestrian pads.
scrotocycles.rip 