The group of people involved in quad racing is still small enough that all the regulars, and maybe some of the irregulars, seem to know each other. When I was lined up for practice, some people were wondering why someone else was riding Karri’s quad. Many seemed to already know that she was letting some biker guy race her quad today. So much for my attempt at going out there unnoticed.

The quad was a modified Honda 400EX. The frame was still stock, but the front end was beefed up and the motor was breathed on. It had an electric start so once I knew where the ignition switch and the starter button were, there really wasn’t too much different about the controls. I noticed quite a few of the other quads had kick starters, but I was happy to give up a few pounds to be able to just push a button.

The only quad riding I’ve ever done is on my utility machine, mostly hauling wood or tools. I had never ridden one set up for racing. Right away, the ergonomics felt good. It didn’t seem to feel that much different than my own quad, other than the tank being about half as wide. The less swept back bars made the whole layout more open. It still had the thumb throttle. The pegs were about three times as long. I could tell that standing on the balls of your feet wasn’t an option, because the front of the rear fender was in the way.

As I left for practice, I was thinking the difference between my stock Big Bear and a race quad would be considerable. What became noticeable right away was that the motor was fast. It still had enough low end to lug it out of the corners, but in the few places where I was on the gas, it accelerated hard. Jumping it didn’t feel that much different than my bike, except the extra weight made the landings quite a bit harder. Since my jumping style doesn’t include too many (any?) whips or scrubs, I didn’t really notice the lack of side-to-side movement. Cornering was completely different than a bike, but not all that much different than my utility quad.

As it turned out, I was pitted close to a recently “converted bike rider” and a bunch of guys that raced the class I was going to be in, Quad Vet. Hanging around them didn’t seem too much different than hanging around bike people. All those stories of animal sacrifices and forced body piercing turned out to be completely baseless. I had my camera at the ready for an expose, but never ended up using it.

My first moto came up early in the order. I was a bit nervous on the line, hearing Bob’s main advise going through my head, “You don’t want to touch wheels.” Despite Karri’s meticulous gate preparation, I got a mediocre jump and came out of the first turn about mid pack. Not too surprisingly, the quads throw a mean roost. Not being directly behind someone became a high priority. I passed a few, got passed by a few more, but made it through intact.

After the race, Karri observed that I was a bit too straight up in the corners. I knew I needed to get inside more, but kept feeling myself not doing it. After a total of five laps, I was already developing bad habits. Perhaps, this practice thing I keep hearing about would have helped.

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