In an attempt to get ahead of the game, I took a day off work and made Jeff come to the track with me to show me around. On a weekday, it was great with essentially no one else to share the track with except for a few motards and a group of karts that left early in the day. My first impression of Grange, much like my first time on any track, was an intimidating one. The very first turn is immediately after a little hill which made braking and looking through the turn a bit challenging. Following that turn was a little straight away, which allowed you to gain enough speed to scare yourself silly coming up to a downhill, off camber turn. From then on, you are constantly changing body positioning for turn after turn. It felt much like a combination of the worst of the other 2 tracks (Streets and Willow Kart), with the physically demanding succession of extremely tight turns of Willow Kart mixed with the elevation changes and sheer fright from speed that Streets of Willow presents.

Life in the pits was pleasant, as the breeze kept temperatures surprisingly comfortable. However once in gear and out in the sun, things quickly changed and I was only able to muster a few laps with each session before feeling concentration wane. As with the other tracks, my comfort and confidence grew with each lap, especially as I followed Jeff around and paid as much attention as I could to lines and turn in points. As I experimented with shift and braking points, it wasn't until well after lunch that I found what felt like my best way of getting around the track.

Then it happened. With Jeff following me, I went around the somewhat familiar turns and chicanes with lines that I were comfortable with at a slightly faster pace than the previous lap. Things felt like they were flowing and even my timing at which I would change body positions felt more consistent. I even gained enough speed to manage to shift early in one section, which allowed me to carry much more speed into the next turn. Unfortunately, I let my excitement prevent me from looking through the turn like I thought I had been so well versed in. Staring straight at what seemed like a very short distance in the dirt to the hay bale barrier, and at a speed that I was very unprepared for, I ran off the track instead of completing the turn that was well within my capability. All that I've strived to learn and make instinctual again escaped my consciousness, and I grabbed the front brake hard in an attempt to stop before hitting the hay. Of course, just as it happened in Live Oaks Canyon a year ago, the bike flopped over and I began my slide sans NSR. The slide happened so quickly I only had time to get my hands out in front of me for a brief moment, before feeling my legs become light. The side of my head slammed into the ground and I uttered an audible 'oof' over the familiar sound of crunching gravel. I saw a world of dirt slide by me in the visor, like a fish watching the world pass by outside its fish tank. Suddenly I saw my knees and the upside down world behind them, and realized I was sliding on my head. It wasn't long before I completed the flip onto my butt and sat there in the dirt, thoroughly dazed. I continued to sit there and as Jeff rushed over, all I could muster was a simple 'I'm OK' because I knew he'd be worried. I spat out a mouthful of dirt before realizing my helmet was still on. Yes it was all a very confusing, slightly painful experience.

Jeff got my bike back up while I tried to get my helmet and gloves off. We found that my helmet had selflessly sacrificed itself for the welfare of my head. The NSR, now crashed on the left side, had a bent in shift lever but seemed to be otherwise fine. Taking a few minutes to gather my wits and assess the damage, we finally got the bike started and limped back to the pits. With the day effectively ended, I was again kicking myself. Three crashes in the last 3 visits to the track. All from very stupid mistakes that I knew better than to do. With a ringing in my head, a little mark on my face, and a shattered ego, the day was still a success. I know that my next time at Grange will be much smoother and having gotten a head start on the learning process, I can focus on other things instead of learning the track and just getting comfortable. My confidence is still intact (relatively) and each crash only strengthens my resolve to succeed at what I'm setting out to do. The length, difficulty, and even pain of the road ahead is becoming more clear. Frustration abounds as I further my pattern of crashing from stupid things, but I'm otherwise encouraged by the rate at which I'm learning. If anything, my riding on the street is with much more confidence and comfort as I feel completely in control of my machine. Too bad I can't do any of that until I get a new helmet...