Road Atlanta 2000 Superbike crowds saw four Vincents lapping the track late Saturday morning, just prior to the first heat of the AMA's MBNA Grand Prix 250.

The opportunity came unexpectedly and on a moment's notice. After visiting with Big Sid and viewing the bikes in our tent, some friends of ours at Speedvision declared that we must take a lap on the track and give the fans a thrill. In addition to the three Vincent twins and one Vincent single, the Big Sid tent included a 1980 Ducati 900SS, a 1967 Guzzi V7, a 1974 BMW R90S, and a 1974 Norton Interstate, all courtesy of our local host and new good friend, Glenn Bewley. In addition to these vintage mounts, we also had in our stable a Suzuki SV650, a Yamaha R6, and Glenn's 1995 Guzzi V1100 Sport. Our Speedvisions friends had been so impressed with what they saw that they were happy to let us take on to the track what we wished so long as the Vincents assumed the lead.

After the offer had been extended, an AMA tech inspector appeared at our hospitality tent. It occurred to me then that our pals at Speedvision may have extended an offer that we could not in fact make good on. I watched with a trace of anxiety as the uniformed tech inspector glanced over the bikes and asked me which ones we intended to put on the track. I answered that I didn't know because I wasn't sure how many of our guests wanted to take advantage of the offer. Yet so impressed was he with the general state of the machines, that after a few kneel downs and cursory inspections, he declared all suitable for track use.

His only question concerned the Vincents. "How much oil would these beasts leave on the track?"

I assured him that Vincents rarely leaked oil and that when at speed, most of the expelled oil would end up on the bikes anyway, an answer that satisfied him. With a final suggestion that we keep our speed down and stay out of the line, he left.

Meanwhile a low key buzz had gone around the tent as friends talked over the opportunity to enjoy some track time without a pace vehicle or any other bikes. Who has going to ride and what? First I asked Sid, and without any hesitation he replied, "I'll take my Black Shadow." And as for yours truly? Hell ya I was going, and as I have vintage racing ambitions, I wanted to ride the Vincent thumper. That left an open saddle on my own twin, Lex. Who better, I thought, to ride her than my good friend and superb artist, Jeff Decker. Jeff's most recent sculpture is an amazing creation that captures Rollie Free flat out. In addition to bringing his remarkable artwork, Jeff also arrived with two vintage machines, an Indian four valve racing single thought to have held a speed reecord achieved in the twenties at Daytona, and a heavily campaigned and well preserved small base eight valve Indian twin believed to have been a factory racer. What better reward for the artist than to finally ride a twin, and what better venue for a first ride. I extended the offer, and although he had no experience on a Vincent, Jeff accepted without any hesitation, just his characteristic broad smile.

The third Vincent bound for the track that day is a beautiful Series B Rapide (motor number 275) rebuilt by Big Sid and winner of an award at the 1996 North American Vincent Rally. This lovely example of the breed is now the property of Keith Campbell (featured on our site's current splash page). An avid racer who hails from Duluth GA, Keith had come out with the intention of seeing his new machine.

Shortly before we were due trackside, Glenn disappeared to take a shower and get into riding gear. I cautioned him to be back by 12:30 as I knew that we would not be able to wait for him and though he was only a recent friend, I had spent enough time with him to gain a sense of some of his habits. Sure enough, Glenn returned just as we were staging in front of the tent. Get on your V7, I told him. And I also needed the keys to the Ducati, the Norton, and the Beemer as Mitch, Jared, and Adam were all eager to participate. With a crestfallen look and groan, Glenn revealed that in his haste to return from his campsite he had left all his sets of keys.

Well, these things happen. Looking at Adam, Mitch and Jared, I decided then and there that as we were delivering the Vincents, we had the god given right to have our entourage on any bloody bike we desired. And with that, I directed Mitch to take his own R6, directed Adam to put the SV650 through its paces, and that left Jared. Glenn and I exchanged looks, and, gentleman that he is, Glenn offered the bike he had returned on, the Guzzi 1100 Sport. With the group so assembled, I started Lex and after a brief comment or two handed her over to Decker. Then I started the Meteor and the crew putted down the access road and up to the entry way to the track. Upon reaching our starting point, the event managers informed us that the stunt show was running long, and that we would have to wait. As we were riding Vincents, I naturally expected such a delay because Murphy always has his way.

I directed everybody to kill their engines, and there we sat in the heat for about twenty minutes, taking in the trackside scenes: the stunt rider sending sparks from his steel soled shoes as he skated alongside his bike, the gaggle of umbrella girls idling around the pits, the occasional blast of a pneumatic tool. As we were getting ready to commence, Jason said to the AMA official, "So--ten laps, right?" The official shot back, "Sure, if you can do it in two and a half minutes!"

Then he directed us to swing up and around a wall of concrete dividers. Mr. Jason Saxon of San Francisco pulled away on Keith Campbell's B and took the lead, and Sid followed. I looked across Jason's vacated space and saw Jeff gesturing for me to assist him in starting Lex. I started the Meteor in one stroke, set her on a prop stand and hopped off. In a flash I closed the chokes, cleared the chambers with two kicks and then on the first boot through Lex rumbled to life. I hurried back to the Meteor. In the din of noise, I could not hear her cadence and gave the throttle a blip and heard the rumbling response I desired. I hurriedly engaged and pulled away.

Because of the delay, a gap had opened up between me and the three Vincent twins. Hitting the backstraight of Road Atlanta, I gunned the Meteor and as the speedometer rose to ninety, I managed to gain ground and could possible have moved up in position in the esses, but as we were just enjoying ourselves I hung back. Coming around one of the corners I was amazed to discover an iron plate in the road right in the line. (We had ignored that bit of legalese from the get-go.)

All four of the Stevenage machines dealt with the task in brisk fashion, and I was able to look around and take in the waves and cheers from quite a few trackside who had risen to their feet to watch the spectacle. After it was all over, we ambled back up to our tent, ready to enjoy the races while our Vincents sat cooling after having performed flawlessly, not a fouled plug or misfire among the lot.