I reckon you do alright for an old dog Augie.
The younger fella certainly has a fair go at it.
When you asked me to watch the vid and give my opinion. (I'm certainly no Toby price), but It looks a bit like the 300 might be a fraction to big for him. You brake a lot later and are quicker through the tight stuff. The 300's power when he gets a sniff of fresh air just punches him forward and creates a fair gap, but he's taking longer to pull up and looks like the a-se is dancing around a bit (hence the few times when he holds the leg elevated off the peg)
Chuck him on a 250 and I reckon he'd be twice as quick.
Does he get arm pump after a while?
ah. yes sir. good observation. my friend is super lightweight and small sized, but superhuman strong. he rode my 250 extremely well but no video exists because i could not keep up with him while riding his 4 stroke yamaha behind him. he is very fluid and smooth, but struggles a bit in the rough turns and corners with his feet off foot pegs. my 250 is tons faster than any 300 but each bike has its strong and weak points. my 250 is tuned for point and shoot woods riding and steers nicely with throttle. you can see on video the monster 300 mid range just powers away on straights. we enjoy many good trail rides together in recent years because we keep a good sensible riding pace and seldom crash or get tired or get severe arm pump.
I thought he might get arm pump as it looks like he's trying to man handle the 300 a little bit.
I get arm pump as I like my 500, but it's way too much bike for me in the scrub. The fuel injection is to punchy/snatchy.
A 250-300 2 banger would be heaps easier for me and I believe the best all round bike for the scrub.
You both definitely ride good and nothing wrong with being a little conservative. Less sh-t gets broken then.
Ah yeah. Arm pump was a bitch for me back in the day. Hare scrambles and moto would kill me with arm pump. The final fix for mine was carpal tunnel surgery some years ago. Almost never have arm pump after surgery. Now my big problem is the friggin arthritis in my hands. Hard to muscle the bike with sore,weak hands but we still try. We ride now and we cry later but dammit we ride like men I'm still trying to load more video but progress is slow and I'm struggling with it. I will keep trying and figure it out soon. I have some of my epic crashes that are funny as balls but some need editing to remove curse words. Will keep trying
I swapped racing stories recently with several old friends and was subjected to mockery and abuse from all the guys I rode and raced with many years ago. I deserve most of the abuse, but I was hoping these guys would at least forget some of my fails and flubs but I think they secretly recorded them or took notes. I have been retired from racing for nearly 20 years and no end in sight for my punishment. One of my old racing buddies has yet to forgive a trick I pulled on him to steal a win he certainly would have easily taken from me during a grueling hare scramble back in the day. We were
fierce competitors and best of friends but he was the better rider and much stronger and talented than i am. There were 2 options in the race course near the finish line scoring barrels and i would almost always take an easy but longer line to conserve energy during last half hour of the race. He would charge through the rough section at full speed and spank me down the last whoop de doo section and beat me to scoring barrels. He was charging behind me and bumping me in corners expecting to blitz me to the finish. I was not as fast as him but decided to give him a fight for the win. At the last instant before a hard left turn to my preferred trail option I set the bike to turn and leaned over and put my left leg over to make the left turn into the wooded section and quickly rolled the bike over and used a tree trunk and berm to make an ugly wobbled right turn and charge through his preferred line and rode like a maniac through the whole section, barely keeping my bike on 2 wheels through the whole last lap to the barrels and beat him. He hated my guts for that trick and reminded me again recently. Screw him. I beat him! He was so mad afterwards he told me he was sure I was going to crash that he wasn't going to try to catch me, he was waiting for me to splatter myself and pass me. Bull$hit it was killing him having me beat him. He was dogging it trying to catch me. That race was probably in the late 1980s and my friend is still abusing me for it all these years later. I still have the trophy. When he gets on about it I take a picture of trophy and send it to him to rub it in again.
My wife heard me laughing earlier today with my friend and asked me afterwards who I was laughing with and what the joke was. I related to her the previous post and racing trick I pulled on my friend and we were reminiscing about our racing days and that incident. She reminded me of another brilliant episode she and my daughter and several of my daughters college friends witnessed during another hotly contested hare scramble. My family still teases me about my awful temperament when racing and call me "the mad dog" . The wife claims she drives to the races with this pleasant pup and he puts on his race face and becomes mad dog until the checkered flag. I would love to disagree, but it's mostly true. I'm a real jerk. One late autumn race my daughter drove to nearby race with college friends to visit her mom and watch dad race. I got caught up behind a huge pile up on a motocross track section and ran over someone's bike and waffled up my expansion chamber and had to pit for quick repair attempt. I charged over to my pit like an animal and ripped the hot exhaust pipe off and jammed a pry bar into open pipe inlet and proceeded to wrestle the mangled pipe back into shape with a hammer and pry bar and curse words. Several attempts at installation proved futile as I struggled with battered pipe trying to refit it onto bike. As I become more frustrated and struggle with pipe I am straddling pipe and standing on the stinger end and prying on pipe inlet and my foot slips off the stinger and I loose balance with full force on pry bar and falling forward I slam the pipe stinger right up behind me and smash myself square in the nuts and fall over myself face first on ground. Those poor girls just watched stunned as I got up. I thought the girls were afraid to speak but my wife told me years later they laughed themselves to tears as i punished myself with a healthy shot to the balls. I did manage to get the pipe sorted and reinstalled it with zip ties. I did finish the race but dont remember where I finished. My wife and my daughter would tell me later how funny it was but would wait until my pride and my nuts mended. My wife claims she was changing my name from mad dog to Wile E Coyote
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