Chicks on Slicks
In 2007 Jean Guy built a Formula 2 CSR Sidecar for his daughter Michelle to race. What follows is the story written by Michelle and published in Motoress.com
Link: http://www.motoress.com/
| My name is Michelle Ractliffe, I am a new sidecar racing driver! I'm 26, my passenger, Cari Wilson, is 17. We are a new sidecar team, up here in Canada. My dad has been a multi-time Sidecar Racers Association East champ, a few of those times with my mother as his passenger and I have finally been convinced to try it out. I've been dabbling in racing solo bikes for some time now, mostly on vintage bikes, but now have a Kawasaki 600 (borrowed from Dad!) to ride on, which I plan to try out on track days this year. Cari just started racing herself, and was totally game for this when I asked her if she wanted to be my monkey! |
The sidecar is a 2007 CSR Formula 2 sidecar, (meaning my father built it, and that the motor is in the front of the rig, as opposed to the back as it is with the Formula 1 guys), with a Kawasaki 636 motor. _____________________________________________________ |
| April 20th 2007 Chicks on Slicks Sidecar racing team--School Day! By Michelle Ractliffe |
| Cari and I drive out to Shannonville Thursday night to meet my parents with the sidecar; the sidecar school starts at 8am, and I don’t feel like waiting till the morning the show up cuz I just can’t deal with early mornings. Cari and I haven’t seen each other since the end of last season, so we talk nonstop all the way to Shannonville. My throat goes dry, and the dry cough I’ve been fighting all week comes back with a vengeance. Cari’s dad has thoughtfully “Febreezed” her leathers (cuz they stank), and packed her gear, but her tent’s missed the van ride from Brantford, which is fine, cuz it’s gonna be a very, very cold night. Matt has also given me one of his ‘warm’ sleeping bags, and with the extra body heat, it should be ok. |
| My mom helps us set up the tent by light of the Probe, and we bundle up. But I can’t find any of the sweaters I thought I packed, so I layer on the shirts. Fast forward to a few hours later, and I'm frozen. Shannonville is right smack in the middle of train tracks and the 401 highway--it's beyond ‘nipply’. I can’t hear my own teeth chatter above the trains and the tractor trailers--my feet are blocks of ice at the ends of my legs. I estimate it’s about 5am when my bladder starts to expand, and the mummy sleeping bag is constricting every movement. I give in and run to the bathroom. The seat is cold, and I am very unhappy. Cari is passed out and I hate her for this. I put on my coat and try to sleep some more. |
| Finally, morning and I hear dad’s footsteps get closer to the tent. He asks if we’re awake. I’ve been awake since I went to sleep. I crawl out of the tent, to see George, a.k.a. The Oatmeal Savage, looking at me. “Everybody’s gone up there,” he says in his thick Scottish accent. $%$^#!! We’re late for class! We jog up to the tower. Cari’s barely breaking a sweat; I can’t breathe and feel like throwing up. And guess where the class is? Top floor, of course. We climb four sets of stairs, only to see Chris Chapelle, the R.A.C.E. director of competition, and R.A.C.E school ‘principal’, behind us, one floor below…not late, after all. I spend the next 15 minutes trying not to wheeze too loudly while the two hour session begins. |
| Cari and I both have been through this already, so I doze while she rolls her eyes while the new riders are being lectured about the track and what to do on a race day. Blah blah blah blah, two hours gone, and we’re back down in the pit area, ready for a track walk, which will infinitely be more interesting because things are apparently a little more ‘different’ on a sidecar….Cari and Mom begin the business of monkeys, and Dad begins to introduce me to life as a sidecar driver. |
| Shannonville’s asphalt on the Nelson sector has become a series of track surfaces sectioned off by quadrants made of cracks and grooves. Fascinating yet at the same time, disturbing. You know how people say “don’t look down” when you’re up high somewhere? Same thing applies to Shannonville. I crowd behind Dad so I can get maximum visuals on where he’s pointing to…my markers become places like “before this crack”, “middle of that crack”, and “at the end of this crack”. All the while, I’m being told that I will feel every one of these cracks and grooves, and should expect the ten inch Hoosier in my hands to try to follow every one of them. At the same time, I should be “pitching it “here, and “whacking the throttle” there. Can’t wait! |
| The Nelson track is a very short, technical course, so we finish it up pretty quickly. By now, I have the “heebie-jeebies”and can’t wait to try this sidecar thing out. Cari hasn’t even tried the platform on for size yet. Dad is still a bit weary of the front end, he’s tried something a little different with this sidecar; tried to make the steering as quick as possible. He hasn’t had the time to properly test it, so he warns be about the extreme sensitivity. It will be easier on my arms, but pretty finicky if I’m not careful. |
| We all head out to the helicopter pad, for our first lesson, which is basically to go around in a circle, get used to it. Things are feeling pretty cool so far. The Kawasaki 636 engine is purring wonderfully. We make a few laps of the old go kart track, so Cari can get the idea of left and right hand corners. I get bored with this. I am one of two new drivers, and the only one on a modern F2. While people watch, Dad gets me to ‘square off’ the corners, going clockwise, this is incredibly fun!!! One of the bystanders starts looking incredibly uncomfortable as I get closer and closer to his new rig, and he moves it slightly out of the way. Cari hangs over the rear wheel behind me while I snap the rear around. I do this for quite a while, enjoying the sliding the sensation. I forget about Cari, who is slowly becoming nauseous with lack of change in direction. But she liked it anyway. If it makes her feel any better, my lower left leg started to go numb. |
| Finally, we graduate from the pad to the track, in between the school sessions for the solo riders. I try to remember the lines, and go through the motions smoothly and deliberately. This is freaky, but in a good way! I like it! But the front end is indeed WAY sensitive, and I find I have to fight to keep the rig in a straight line between the bumps and cracks. If I so much as sneeze, I know we’ll be launched into the next county. With the first session out of the way, both Cari and I are feeling pretty good, and with the second session, even better. |
| The third session…..I was feeling pretty good; Cari was doing a great job behind me. I did my job, she did hers. I headed into Corner One as I’m pretty sure I’d been doing all along, when it felt like I hit black ice. I had been moving forward, but in a millisecond was going off the track backwards, the grass flying everywhere. It stopped as soon as it had started; my heart didn’t even have time to stop, but my brain, when we stopped moving, was screaming what happened?! I looked back to see where Cari was, worried I had lost her, but she was there. I stayed where I was and got her to push the rig out of the way; the rig had stalled and I couldn’t start it again. I got out when it was safe, and Cari had a Cheshire cat grin on her face. I smiled back--we were both ok and strangely at peace with what could have been a much worse outcome; flipping the sidecar. |
| We gave each other a hug, and looked over at the starter’s station, which was just across the track from us; and there was Dad, barely being held back by the official; I think he knew Dad was gonna cross the track, whether he liked it or not, so he made sure no one was coming before letting him run over. He bump started the rig, and we finished the session without any more incidents. |
So Cari and I had our first sidecar moment; Dad calls it “seeing Elvis”. We just saw a little bit of Elvis, we were lucky! We finished out the day with two more sessions, but the following practice day was out of the question, as Dad wanted to rebuild the front end before we got any more laps in. When the sidecar flew backwards, I had no time (and no experience to know any better) to pull in the clutch, so the inside of the starter exploded into itty bitty pieces. It didn’t damage the gear on the inside, we were again lucky with that. No more electric start for us! |
We finished out first day as a sidecar team, intact, if not a little sore. Cari developed a beautiful blue ping-pong ball on her hip, and I got a nice big bruise as well, on the inside of my arm, from bear-hugging the 636 all day. We were disappointed to not be able to practice the following day, but it was better and safer that we didn’t. Dad would bring the rig safely home to work on for the first race in May, where the rig’s steering will certainly be more stable, even though it may require a little more strength on my part. Ugh, guess I’ll have to go that awful, horrible place with all the weights and treadmills. Anyway, can’t wait for the first race!! This season is gonna be a hell of a lot of fun!
______________________________________________ Chicks on Slicks Builder Jean Guy Ractliffe with his wife and passenger Christine, in the drivers seat is Michelle and her passenger Cari Wilson
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