In Memory of Dave Chase

Bajas New
Banditos
The saga of two young privateers and their victory in the most punishing off-road racing series

BY RICH CO

Coming into the finish was the biggest rush of all. There are miles of pavement coming Into La Paz, and there are people lining the road The last half mile they were three and four deep on the side of the road; the last couple hundred yards they were so crowded up on the highway that there was only room enough to get a bike through. That was the best part of the 1000: you got this Incredible feeling that you had accomplished something." Nineteen year-old Dave Chase was definitely enjoying the reminiscing over his sixth place finish in the '82 Pernod/SCORE Baja 1000 off-road race. And indeed, that feeling of accomplishment was rightfully deserved. Not only had Chase and hiS co-rider, 19-year-old Bill Holmes, firlistled the longest, most grueling off-road race In America, they had also become the very firs! "privateers" ever to capture SCORE's prestigious Class 22 (Open, class motorcycles) championship. Since SCORE took over this series back In 1974, every previous championship had been won by riders With partial or full factory supported sponsorship

What was their secret to winning? Well, they had learned the most important lesson in long-distance desert racing: You have to finish before you can win. They had beaten the best factory supported riders In the business not with blazing speed, but With pure consistency. With every race they were there at the finish: sixth in the Parker ·100, third in the San Felipe 250, fourth in the Baja 500 and sixth at the Baja 1000. Of course, as with most racing victories, there was a certain degree of luck that accompanied them right up to the end. For Instance, Yamaha factory rider Larry Roeseler, having won the Baja 500, was Just five points behind Chase/Holmes gOing into the 1000. Unfortunately for Larry, he met With an untimely contract dispute with Yamalla that prevented him from riding the last race Chase/Holmes had such a point lead over the rest of the field that they "merely" had to finish the 1000 to take the SCORE championship

But that's certainly not to imply thaI the Chase/Holmes win was undeserving, for both had paid their dues In the past Chase comes from a family of desert racers and has been riding District 37 races for the past six years. Holmes, on the other hand, had been one of CMC's top-rated 125cc motocrossers; tle started riding Mexico races just last year. ObViously Holmes has a talent for high speed racing because in his very first Baja 1000 he placed third in the 125cc class

Although you have to respect these boys for their riding prowess, they'll be the first to admit that Baja is as much, if not more, a lest of mechanical endurance. You just can't take a stock big-bore out of the crate and run it over 2000 miles of treacherous terrain at speeds up to 90 mph (sometimes for 50 miles at a lime) and expect It to survive. There's just no way. And that's why all of \tIe previous winners have been factory supported-it takes that degree of knowledge and meticulous preparation to produce a winning mount. So, how did Chase and Holmes gel there? Well, they were lucky enough to have met up With one Dave Holeman. Holeman, you might remember, end assorted editorships at Cycle Magazine from '71 t0 '77; he's been blue- printing bikes and getting them ready for Baja since the early '70s. He calls it just a hobby (advertising is his main business now) but he pursues it with all the dedication and skill of a factory mechanic. He's also highly opinionated, not to mention being fastidious over what he'll work on and who he'll do the work for. Many times his decision to help somebody is based solely on whether or not he "likes" you And don't bottler bringing him anything but a Husky-he hasn't touched one of those Oriental since '78, and probably never again. Although the two youngsters were relatively unknowns up to this point, he nevertheless realized their talents and decided to take them "under my wing," as he says it

I ventured into the Mojave desert to the once-booming little mining town of Randsburg, California, where I got the opportunity to meet with this trio, and also strafe a few desert trails aboard tile winning Husky 430XC. In talking with Mr. Holeman, it became immediately apparent that being successful in long-distance desert racing requires a strong bonding of bike, rider and preparator. As Holeman explains: "It's a different kind of racing because of its length. The guys that are riding the bike have to know something about iI-they just can't jump on it and ride it. So, somebody has to spend time with them and show them how the bike's being prepared so if they have trouble they can stop and fix it "

I learned early on that there's a world of difference between a Baja bike and a "real" Baja bike, although the distinction, unfortunately, is generally not readily visible from a distance. The Chase/Holmes Husky is a classic example: it looks deceptively stock, but Holeman will tell you there are over 500 hours of preparation in this bike. The main objective in building a long-haul speedster is (as he says with much thought) "to build in an optimum mixture of speed, durability and reliability." He accomplishes this by refraining from using so-called "trickery" or trick parts, unless, of course, they've been tested well in advance. Instead, he relies on using quality, well proven products and a wealth of past experience. Not just his own, but experiences of many other acquaintances, including the Husky factory's past efforts as well.

In this type of long-distance raCing, engine failures, particularly seizures and crankshaft failures, are the most common mechanical problem. So, understandably, the engine gets Mr. Holeman's utmost attention during preparation. "The engines I take preferably new," he explains "I prefer not to even have them run at all We take them completely apart. Husky engines, more so than many, have more to work with design-wise and material-wise, but they do have sloppy fabrication assembly methods. Every time we get into an engine-with any engine actually-we find something amiss, something is misplaced, a wrong kind of shimming in the gearbox, there's lapping compound on the cylinder, there are retaining bolts a little loose, clutch-end plays aren't set right. So we go through everything on the bike, take everything apart and measure everything that is measurable-such as cylinder bore clearance-and then reassemble it right."

Naturally the cylinder gels some massaging, although Holeman admits the porting he does is very moderate. "We widen and raise the exhaust, lower it to match the piston at top center and raise the transfers ever so slightly. We don't really 'move' anything; the factory isn't stupid, they know what they're doing. But we blueprint and match everything." Some of the other little power producers they opt for are a CR exhaust pipe and a bigger volume Mossbarger reed cage assembly. This helps to improve mid-range performance and enables the engine to pull tailer gearing more easily. The Richter aluminum silencer is used not so much for power or lightness, but because it has a slightly softer exhaust no Ie which is less fatiguing over the long haul .

I took the bike for a short loop around Randsburg, and it definitely has a crisp, strong engine which churns out a tremendous amount of mid-range power. The bike literally explodes out of deep, sandy corners and accelerates with a vengeance. And fast? The larger 15-tooth countershafl sprocket gives it a top end speed exceeding 90 mph! From what Holmes says, they never had a disadvantage in power; the bike was just as fast as the new 500s ridden by the Husky factory riders. It was surely just as, if not more, reliable too. The petcock did depart the gas tank during the 500 (which cost them 40 minutes to fix), and they broke a pipe bracket and burned up a rear wheel bearing during the 1000. But otherwise they had no major mechanical failures all year long. Of course, they'd like to attribute part of that success to one of their sponsor's products-Maxima Lubricants. Holeman swears by the Maxima Super M two-stroke oil, which he blends Two powerful Cibie Super Oscars throw a shaft in a 32: 1 ratio with a 50/50 mixture of of light ten yards wid~ and 100 yards long. Top' 108 racing gas and unleaded premium light IS set up for qUick change

The Husky's suspension is pretty stock, surprisingly enough. They use the XC's standard Ohlins shocks with only a couple of modifications: 1) they add another heim joint to the bottom shock mount for added rigidity, and 2) they replace the spindly shock bolts with hardened Allen bolts. The forks use stock springs and damping rates, but they have a lot of time-consuming "tuning" in them. To increase their smoothness, the area where the damper rod and piston ring slide up and down is honed smooth, then the fork tubes and stanchions are literally hand-matched. Yamaha fork seals are used up top.

Actually, much of the so-called "trickery" that Holeman resorts to is, as on the Husky factory bikes, designed simply for speed and ease of maintenance. For example, the rear brake torque arm (which is steel rather than aluminum for added strength) is modified to allow the backing plate to swing down freely during tire changes. This doesn't necessitate loosening the torque arm bolts during a rapid pit stop. Front wheel changes have been greatly simplified by adding a set of shouldered bushings al the axle mounts. This allows the axle to be slid out without having to loosen the axle caps. Lay the bike on its side and you'll find the center tube running under the engine was bent up and rewelded in place. This serves several purposes: 1) it helps to increase ground clearance, and 2) it allows the installation of a Husky Products skidplate, enabling the motorcycle to be placed flat on "anybody's" milk crate during pit stops. Apparently bending footpeg mounts is pretty common, so Holeman welds in an additional crossmember underneath the rear of the engine to help strengthen the frame.

The fact that the 1000 is the longest, most punishing race (also the only one that runs into the night hours) required some additional preparation on Holeman's part. He states: "One of the things that can rea!!y catch up with you are breaking wheels. These guys hit things with such tremendous force-even sma!! bumps because of the speed they're going-the impact force is just incredible." To beef-up the wheels for the 1000, he laced the rims with larger eight-gauge, straight-diameter, Buchanan stainless spokes, tie-wrapped together at the crossing points. The tires they used were the same brand they'd used most of the year: Metzeler 3.25-2 t, 4-ply up front; an IRC 5. to-17 Volcanduro in the rear. About using the smaller brand name IRC he says: "We've had real good wear luck and they work 'respectably.' Wear-wise we've had super success. In fact, like in the 1000, the Husky guys (the factory team) had to change tires four times-we changed once."

One item that did prove troublesome earlier in the year was a clutch that persistent~y burned up clutch plates. The first attempt at remedying the slippage involved machining .030 inches off the outer plate, then adding an extra aluminum drive plate (.060" thick)-that increases the depth of the clutch .030" and the pre· load on the springs by .030" It was an improvement but not a total cure. As a last ditch effort before the 1000, the clutch was fitted with the stiffer Husky 500 springs and that apparently cured the problem.

To finish up front in the 1000 you've got to run fast all the time, even at night That requires some lights, some big lights. The Chase/HOlmes Husky runs two Cibie Super Oscars; the top light is a powerful, long-range spot beam and the lower is a wide focus flood beam. The lights are housed in a special handmade, chrome-moly frame, and come nighttime the whole lighting unit can be mounted onto the bike in less than a minute. Supplying juice to the lights required taking off the standard 6V, 35 watt Motoplat ignition and replacing it with a 12V, t40 watt SEM ignilion A Voltpak regulator is also included in the changeover. The cost of just the lighting set-up alone? Well over $400.

Being curious as to just how good these lights really are, I eagerly jumped aboard the Husky and headed out into Randsburg's pitch-black surroundings What is immediately impressive is thaI the lights become maximum brightness right off idle, so there's rarely an instance where you don't have full power. And believe me, the top driving light is a real torch; I swear it can burn a hole in a yucca tree at 100 yards! But in spite of their potency, Holmes admits that at 80 mph it's still pretty easy to outskid the lights. I could see how the night portions could be pretty fatiguing too, because with the full complement of lights and gas the bike gets pretty heavy--about 300 pounds. Plus the riders are carrying an additional 29 pounds in their backpack and fanny pack. Imagine the burden of all thai weight and how tiring it must be to stare down a pencil of light for hours at a time. Holmes remembers the 1981 1000, when it took him over nine hours to complete the first section on his 125-all of it during Baja darkness

Of course the wee hours of the '82 1000 produced their share of "war stories" as well. As Chase relates: "The one time I feU down in the 1000 was in the silt bed. The minute you hit silt it just powders up like a powder keg. And it was at night, so Ihe minute the bike feU over it was instantly black and aU I could see was the one little light from the miners lamp through all the dust. I had to find the bike and gel oriented again." Holmes chuckles a little, then he chimes in with an incident of his own. "I remember it was at night, about two in the morning," he recalls. "I was riding down Highway 22, and there were Mexicans lining the highway with smoke all over the place from aU the bonfires and burning tires. I'm jamming down the highway, cars are flashing their brights at me, total commotion. All of a sudden this taxi coming if) the opposite direction gets to within about 20 feet of me and just banzais off the road. I turned just in time to see this explosion of dirt flying over the hood."

Actually, the 22 hours and 48 minutes that it took them to complete the 1000 (five hours behind the winners) was rather uneventful compared to the problems encountered during prerunning. In fact, they never did get to prerun the course. Three weeks before the race, Holmes broke his nose in a car accident Two weeks before the race Chase went down to prerun with two other people, and while they were driving to where they were going to start riding, they centerpunched a cow, totalling the front of their truck. Chase did manage to prerun about 100 miles the day before the race. But as it turned out, Holmes' sickness (he was so sick during the first section he had to stop riding) during the race shuffled the riding schedule and Chase ended up riding the section he never preran. "We could have knocked off hours if we had prerun," exclaims Holmes.

You have to respect this trio of privateers for their ski!! and perseverance, but ultimately, for their love of the sport. Because you certainly don't gel rich from it. For Dave Chase and Bill Holmes, winning the Class 22 championship will barely put $3,000 in their pockets. They spent that much between them on just the preparation and accommodations for the Baja 1000 alone. So why do they do it? "It's the high speed," says Holmes, "I love high speed racing." Chase sums it up another way: "Desert racing is all I've ever done. I like the long races because of the challenge" So what are they looking forward to now? A factory ride.

DIRT RIDER/MARCH 1983