slowpoke
New Member
I’d like to think that by NESBA getting me off the street and teaching me how to ride, they saved my life.
WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE is that NESBA definitely enriched my life in a way that I’ll always be grateful for – the friendships, the memories, that bond, and the incredible amount of fun.
Had mixed emotions about posting anything on here b/c this post has much less to do with me and much more about saying thanks as I take, what I hope to be, a short break. We’ve all seen first-hand when life throws us a curveball and things are left unsaid, and I didn’t want that to be the case. Some recent and unexpected success at work along with the need to at least show an effort to save money and move out of the city (need to actually LOOK like I’m trying to be responsible --- ssshhh!) have forced me to re-prioritize and hence: taking a break.
Back to the original intent of the post…. A few years ago, my motorcycle experience consisted of a couple of years riding Harleys on the street which didn’t include any safety gear other than sunglasses (retarded, I know). My brother wanted a beginner’s sportbike so I went to look at the FZ-6 he was considering. Long story made short: he didn’t buy the bike and I somehow left the dealership on a discounted, leftover R1 having never thrown a leg over a sportbike before. Of course the guys at the dealership cautioned me up and down about how careful I had to be on the bike so I bought a helmet and rode it home promising Liz I’d always wear a helmet on the bike.
That ride home scared the shit out of me and I quickly realized that I knew absolutely nothing about riding a performance-based motorcycle. 90 MPH in first gear – WTF?! Then, I remembered the guy at the dealership telling me the bike came with a free trackday where I could learn to ride this monster of a bike. When he mentioned it at the dealership, my first thought was “A racetrack? Why would I ever go there when I’m not sure I can even ride this thing on the street?” Then it was “Man, I’ve seen all those idiots in Philly racing around on the street and wadding their bikes up so why would I ever go the racetrack and hang out with these people? (found out later – they were called “squids” and I was at risk of joining their ranks with my Icon helmet and matching dragon themed jacket – sorry Icon).
Went back to the dealership to find out more about that organization they kept talking about which sounded like NAMBLA and I just couldn’t remember the damn name of it. The sales guy let me know if I wanted to learn how to actually ride the bike, it was called NESBA, and if I was interested in other types of riding then NAMBLA could probably accommodate me as well, but I digress. He went on to explain he used to ride with NESBA having progressed through the ranks to their “A” group and told me to ask for his dad who was a CR/Director.
Two weeks later with a new racesuit, Arai helmet, decent gloves, boots, back protector, and I was off to learn how to ride this thing b/c it was overwhelmingly obvious I had absolutely zero natural talent at riding motorcycles – literally zero. To me, that’s what makes this story, and more importantly NESBA, that much cooler. Rode the bike from Philly to NJMP’s Lightning with my mind made up that I was about to get some lessons from what would probably turn out to be a bunch of stunting, crazy, reckless, “crotch rocket” riders. I also made sure I brought a decent amount of cash b/c I knew they would nickel and dime me to death.
As I made my way through tech like a lost puppy, a few CRs quickly came over to help ‘the noob’ and within minutes they were taking the mirrors off the bike, removing the squidly tag from the rear axle, loaning me painters tape, etc. Ah-Ha!! Here comes the shakedown for money since I literally came with nothing other than my riding gear and some money. Once I passed whatever the hell “tech” was, I discreetly handed the ‘instructor’ some money. He looked back like he saw a ghost and refused the tip, and we both sat there, looking at each other equally confused by the other’s actions. In came another famous CR, who then informed me that he’s a retired a police officer, he’s armed (confirmed by lifting of his shirt), and let me know he’d shoot me if I ever did that again, and he was positive it would be a justifiable homicide. These guys are helpful yet sarcastic ball busters………….? Holy shit --- I found a new home!
So, my image of this thing they called NESBA wasn’t a little bit off, it was 180 degrees off. The rest of that first day was one great surprise after another as I was taken by these “CRs”, given a seat under their canopy, gatorades, , tire pressures changed/checked/re-checked, chain adjusted, etc, and taken around the racetrack in what was one of the funnest days of my life to that point. As the day went on, it became obvious the only “skill” I had was a willingness to learn and a strong desire to have as much fun as possible.
Just before the end of that first day, it happened and it scared the shit out of me --- my knee touched the ground and the hook was set!
We came back to the pits, I walked over to Lenny, Will, and big Rob asking them if the parts trailer sold knee pucks in bulk. A quick yet confused look from them, followed by me showing them the biggest, goofiest, grin they had ever seen – I mean like the Cheshire cat kinda grin. They seemed almost as excited as I was: one because they remembered their first day, and two becuase they knew they could bust my balls for the next few years about that giant dumbass grin I get on my face way too often.
So all that babble about how I ended up here: NESBA partnered with Yamaha to help people enjoy their motorcycles to the fullest by riding safer (check), faster (check – hey, it’s all relative), and better (check). After squeezing tons of days in that first season, there were constantly Nesbians taking me under their wing to help me along and to keep me safe all the way to A group. The following season I was honored to be in a position to give back what I learned and got one of those badass, orange shirts hoping to be able to help some new, lost members just like I had been only a year prior.
Since then, it’s been one of the greatest experiences of my life. Yes, the racetracks are awesome; the bikes are fast and perform incredibly well; BUT the people, the friendships, that bond of sharing a corner leaning on your friend literally shoulder-to-shoulder, fairing-to-fairing – that’s NESBA. Seeing somebody have a mechanical or crash and everyone dropping what they’re doing to help another person out – that’s NESBA. People helping people wanting absolutely nothing in return except maybe a smile. Riding around the racetrack in triple digits laughing in our helmets – never thought it was possible. A lanky, goofy bastard like me being taught to ride a bike at an “expert pace” (backmarker but still) having never thrown the bike down the track after well over 100 events – all of this happened thanks to amazing instruction (and a great bit of luck) –that’s NESBA! The best part of all is watching that noob walk in lost at tech inspection just like we all were, a few hours later seeing him with a grin almost as goofy as mine, then the scrape on the knee puck, then ‘I’ then ‘A’….. F’ing awesomeness!!!
If you’re new to this sport and you’re reading this for the first time, prepare to smile and laugh until it literally hurts! If you’ve been around, then I want to thank you for letting me share your hobby. To all the staff, you guys/girls all rock – every f’ing one of you.
I’ll be back soon, but for me, the thank you just couldn’t wait.
Thank you, NESBA. Now go help some noobs, you phuckers……
A Harley guy could someday ride a sportbike on a racetrack? I guess pigs can fly, right Sanders?
WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE is that NESBA definitely enriched my life in a way that I’ll always be grateful for – the friendships, the memories, that bond, and the incredible amount of fun.
Had mixed emotions about posting anything on here b/c this post has much less to do with me and much more about saying thanks as I take, what I hope to be, a short break. We’ve all seen first-hand when life throws us a curveball and things are left unsaid, and I didn’t want that to be the case. Some recent and unexpected success at work along with the need to at least show an effort to save money and move out of the city (need to actually LOOK like I’m trying to be responsible --- ssshhh!) have forced me to re-prioritize and hence: taking a break.
Back to the original intent of the post…. A few years ago, my motorcycle experience consisted of a couple of years riding Harleys on the street which didn’t include any safety gear other than sunglasses (retarded, I know). My brother wanted a beginner’s sportbike so I went to look at the FZ-6 he was considering. Long story made short: he didn’t buy the bike and I somehow left the dealership on a discounted, leftover R1 having never thrown a leg over a sportbike before. Of course the guys at the dealership cautioned me up and down about how careful I had to be on the bike so I bought a helmet and rode it home promising Liz I’d always wear a helmet on the bike.
That ride home scared the shit out of me and I quickly realized that I knew absolutely nothing about riding a performance-based motorcycle. 90 MPH in first gear – WTF?! Then, I remembered the guy at the dealership telling me the bike came with a free trackday where I could learn to ride this monster of a bike. When he mentioned it at the dealership, my first thought was “A racetrack? Why would I ever go there when I’m not sure I can even ride this thing on the street?” Then it was “Man, I’ve seen all those idiots in Philly racing around on the street and wadding their bikes up so why would I ever go the racetrack and hang out with these people? (found out later – they were called “squids” and I was at risk of joining their ranks with my Icon helmet and matching dragon themed jacket – sorry Icon).
Went back to the dealership to find out more about that organization they kept talking about which sounded like NAMBLA and I just couldn’t remember the damn name of it. The sales guy let me know if I wanted to learn how to actually ride the bike, it was called NESBA, and if I was interested in other types of riding then NAMBLA could probably accommodate me as well, but I digress. He went on to explain he used to ride with NESBA having progressed through the ranks to their “A” group and told me to ask for his dad who was a CR/Director.
Two weeks later with a new racesuit, Arai helmet, decent gloves, boots, back protector, and I was off to learn how to ride this thing b/c it was overwhelmingly obvious I had absolutely zero natural talent at riding motorcycles – literally zero. To me, that’s what makes this story, and more importantly NESBA, that much cooler. Rode the bike from Philly to NJMP’s Lightning with my mind made up that I was about to get some lessons from what would probably turn out to be a bunch of stunting, crazy, reckless, “crotch rocket” riders. I also made sure I brought a decent amount of cash b/c I knew they would nickel and dime me to death.
As I made my way through tech like a lost puppy, a few CRs quickly came over to help ‘the noob’ and within minutes they were taking the mirrors off the bike, removing the squidly tag from the rear axle, loaning me painters tape, etc. Ah-Ha!! Here comes the shakedown for money since I literally came with nothing other than my riding gear and some money. Once I passed whatever the hell “tech” was, I discreetly handed the ‘instructor’ some money. He looked back like he saw a ghost and refused the tip, and we both sat there, looking at each other equally confused by the other’s actions. In came another famous CR, who then informed me that he’s a retired a police officer, he’s armed (confirmed by lifting of his shirt), and let me know he’d shoot me if I ever did that again, and he was positive it would be a justifiable homicide. These guys are helpful yet sarcastic ball busters………….? Holy shit --- I found a new home!
So, my image of this thing they called NESBA wasn’t a little bit off, it was 180 degrees off. The rest of that first day was one great surprise after another as I was taken by these “CRs”, given a seat under their canopy, gatorades, , tire pressures changed/checked/re-checked, chain adjusted, etc, and taken around the racetrack in what was one of the funnest days of my life to that point. As the day went on, it became obvious the only “skill” I had was a willingness to learn and a strong desire to have as much fun as possible.
Just before the end of that first day, it happened and it scared the shit out of me --- my knee touched the ground and the hook was set!
We came back to the pits, I walked over to Lenny, Will, and big Rob asking them if the parts trailer sold knee pucks in bulk. A quick yet confused look from them, followed by me showing them the biggest, goofiest, grin they had ever seen – I mean like the Cheshire cat kinda grin. They seemed almost as excited as I was: one because they remembered their first day, and two becuase they knew they could bust my balls for the next few years about that giant dumbass grin I get on my face way too often.
So all that babble about how I ended up here: NESBA partnered with Yamaha to help people enjoy their motorcycles to the fullest by riding safer (check), faster (check – hey, it’s all relative), and better (check). After squeezing tons of days in that first season, there were constantly Nesbians taking me under their wing to help me along and to keep me safe all the way to A group. The following season I was honored to be in a position to give back what I learned and got one of those badass, orange shirts hoping to be able to help some new, lost members just like I had been only a year prior.
Since then, it’s been one of the greatest experiences of my life. Yes, the racetracks are awesome; the bikes are fast and perform incredibly well; BUT the people, the friendships, that bond of sharing a corner leaning on your friend literally shoulder-to-shoulder, fairing-to-fairing – that’s NESBA. Seeing somebody have a mechanical or crash and everyone dropping what they’re doing to help another person out – that’s NESBA. People helping people wanting absolutely nothing in return except maybe a smile. Riding around the racetrack in triple digits laughing in our helmets – never thought it was possible. A lanky, goofy bastard like me being taught to ride a bike at an “expert pace” (backmarker but still) having never thrown the bike down the track after well over 100 events – all of this happened thanks to amazing instruction (and a great bit of luck) –that’s NESBA! The best part of all is watching that noob walk in lost at tech inspection just like we all were, a few hours later seeing him with a grin almost as goofy as mine, then the scrape on the knee puck, then ‘I’ then ‘A’….. F’ing awesomeness!!!
If you’re new to this sport and you’re reading this for the first time, prepare to smile and laugh until it literally hurts! If you’ve been around, then I want to thank you for letting me share your hobby. To all the staff, you guys/girls all rock – every f’ing one of you.
I’ll be back soon, but for me, the thank you just couldn’t wait.
Thank you, NESBA. Now go help some noobs, you phuckers……
A Harley guy could someday ride a sportbike on a racetrack? I guess pigs can fly, right Sanders?
