Terror on two wheels: A ride around Laguna Seca on a Superbike

LAGUNA SECA — The first thing I noticed was the only thing keeping me from bouncing off WeatherTech Raceway Laguna Seca’s tarmac at more than 100 miles per hour was my grip strength and the ample adrenaline shooting through my body.

I was on the back of a specially modified, two-person Superbike piloted by former professional Superbike racer Chris Ulrich, for a lap around Laguna Seca’s 2-mile, 11-turn course during this weekend’s MotoAmerica Superbike Speedfest.

And I was scared out of my mind.

Student journalist Mason Bloom takes a 150-mph ride around Laguna Seca on the back of a motorcycle. (Special to the Monterey Herald)

I’m usually much calmer at the track. When I got the ride-along invite, I didn’t think it would be anything out of the norm. I’ve driven on-track before and know Laguna like the back of my hand.

But I’d never been on a motorcycle of any kind before — let alone a Superbike — with a power-to-weight ratio similar to a Lamborghini. Shoot, I hadn’t even ridden a bicycle in years! But no big deal; I was ready.

My thinking changed before the 90-second ride when I signed a waiver releasing liability in case of death or injury. I then suited up in full gear: a leather race suit, back brace, gloves, hardshell boots and helmet.

The pre-ride safety meeting was very specific: feet on the pegs, rear end firmly on the small seat, and — no matter what — don’t let go of the safety bar. Also provided were two signals to communicate with Ulrich: one elbow jab means don’t go faster; two means there’s something wrong.

My heart rate was increasing with each duly noted instruction.

Ulrich pulled up on his Suzuki Superbike, and after nervous pleasantries on my part, I hopped on and wrapped my bulky gloves around the safety handle.

Student journalist Mason Bloom takes a 150-mph ride around Laguna Seca on the back of a motorcycle. (Mason Bloom - Monterey Herald)

After my nod of approval, Ulrich did what Superbike riders do: unleashed over 200 horsepower with a turn of a wrist, sending us down Laguna Seca’s first straightaway.

I’ve seen countless race starts and stood nearby vehicles as they launched down the tarmac. This time I was “the driver” being launched. I’m in the word business but I don’t have any to truly describe what this felt like.

I’ve been in several very fast vehicles exceeding 100 mph, but those had a cabin and two doors separating me from the asphalt. Had my safety bar grip pressure not been turned up to 10, I’d have been shot off the bike like one of those old-time cartoon characters being shot out of a cannon.

This was the first time speed has ever scared me.

Ulrich and I rocketed through Turn 1 at well over 100 mph. The combination of G-force and, surprisingly, the wind were frightening and brutal.

Superbikes do have windshields, but they’re just large enough to cover riders when they’re tucked downward into standard superbike riding posture. Ulrich was prone but I was more upright, wrapped around him and the safety bar, desperately trying to see the corner I’m about to experience at felony speeds.

Several downshifts later, we dropped into Turn 2 and took the long, tight left-hander well past a 45-degree angle. I instinctively kicked my knee out and leaned my head into the turn like I’d seen pros do. It was the first time anything seemed instinctive. Maybe I was getting used to this.

Maybe not.

I realized just how close I was to the tarmac. Strikingly close. Close enough to see rapid flashes of red, white, red, white, red, white appear at 60 mph. These weren’t flashing lights, they were the colored curbs inside the turn that guide drivers. They were right there, inches from my visor. My safety bar grip pressure was now at 11.

Student journalist Mason Bloom takes a 150-mph ride around Laguna Seca on the back of a motorcycle. (Mason Bloom - Monterey Herald)

Feeling our rear tire squirm as we moved out of Turn 2’s apex and into Turn 3 at over 80 mph confirmed I was indeed not used to this. I’ve seen crashes there before. I was a tad queasy.

We blew through the sequence of turns 2, 3 and 4 in a blink. My ongoing flood of adrenaline kept me more than alert as we moved through several thunderous upshifts as we sped through 4, reaching 120 mph. The upshifts were impossible to ignore. Each ruthlessly jolted the bike and felt like a sucker punch to my stomach.

My chest was forced into Ulrich’s back as he broke into the left-hander Turn 5 as quickly as he accelerated out of Turn 4. As I braced my core with the bike nearly parallel to the track, I couldn’t ignore the burning in my forearms and biceps from my intense grip on the safety bar.

The brief climb to Turn 6 featured equally turbulent upshifts and showed why accidents often occur there. Its intense bank and sharp angle make it impossible to perfect. And we weren’t. Suddenly, the entire bike slid jarringly underneath me as it dropped into the 80-mph apex. The rear tire screamed as we hurled up to Turn 7 and I fought incontinence.

The Rahal Straight, between Turn 6 and 7, gave me a brief pause to breathe. This was among the fastest parts of the ride — over 110 mph — but it was straight, so I tried to adjust my now-sore rear end on the seat. The headwind resisted my movement and I was then thrown blindly into the Corkscrew.

So much for catching my breath.

Its six-story drop lasted barely two seconds and we picked up almost 30 mph in the process. Its severe shape prevented me from seeing the corner until I was leaning sideways into it, nearly kissing the tarmac. Ever been on a drop tower at an amusement park? Imagine that, except without a safety harness.

The speed gained exiting the Corkscrew rocketed us into the downhill, left-hander Turn 9. It’s one of the track’s fastest corners and I felt all my 160 pounds thrown to the outside of the bike as we neared 100 mph. My arms, core and neck were waving the white flag as the bike fought for grip and shot me into the next corner.

Turn 10 was nothing more than a slingshot into Turn 11. We’d descended more than 10 stories since entering the Corkscrew and the speed was more intense than any previous corner. My visor was fogging up from my heavy breathing. With now reduced vision, I leaned hard into the 75-mph corner.

The G-forces pushed my body — now tired and exceptionally sweaty — every which way while the wind forced my head back into my spine. Ulrich then pushed us full throttle into the slowest corner, Turn 11, allowing me to recenter my weight on the seat.

The force was so profound that it made it difficult to drop my shoulder into the turn’s apex one last time; I could barely move at this point. My surroundings — trackside photographers, bikes in the pits, the group standing by the start-finish line — were all a blur to me.

We were now in the home stretch and Ulrich had a final surprise for me. Our bike soared flat out to where the ride started, and he lifted the front wheel off the ground before slamming back on the tarmac with several barbaric downshifts. Ulrich stopped on a dime; I didn’t expect anything less.

Pulling myself off the bike, smelling the fumes from the exhaust and hot tires and feeling both feet back on the ground was the biggest relief I’d ever felt.

Ulrich climbed off after me and looked at me as I regained my balance.

“We went pretty quick,” he said with a smile.

Mason Bloom is a Herald correspondent and attends the University of Southern California Annenberg School of Journalism.