Now, given my complete lack of competition experience, I didn’t bother with any of the suspension changing wizardry. I just hopped on – which is a lot easier than the 250F given a much lower seat height – kicked the KX alive; and then stalled it. I stalled it again a few more times tackling mud mounds, whoops and even while exiting a bermed corner.
But it was times like these that really made me appreciate this two-stroke’s lack of weight and the manageable seat height. If it were the tall and relatively heavier 250F, I would have been blowing a lot of mud out of my mouth, repeatedly. But, this gratefulness for two-stroke tech was extremely short lived. After all the stalling and managing to stay upright in the two sighting laps, I decided it was time to give this manageable, easier to exploit and a lot less intimidating version of the KX all I had. Big mistake.
As I have confessed many times in the past, I am a short-shifter. And that makes me as inept at handling high-strung two-stroke motorcycles as I am at supervising kids. Yes, I am quite pathetic at both. So, coming down the straight, I go up three gears in quick succession and hold the throttle wide open like I would on a 150cc commuter. But, I don’t find much go.
So, I keep the throttle pinned as I make the fast left-hander that leads onto the first of the tall mud mounds. Half way into the corner, the KX100 hits its powerband, and as if by magic, the good-natured pony I am riding turns into a scared and violent horse. Braaap! It’s clearly trying to escape from under me rearing, sliding and bucking all at the same time. And I am so taken aback (read scared); I refuse to let go off the throttle.
Good move that because within seconds the KX100 has righted itself. But, it is now charging for that mud mound. I roll off, touch the front brake, and slow down enough not to land head down exiting the mound. Time now to make the bermed right-hander. But, in all this life-saving excitement, I again forget that this is a race two-stroke and dropping a couple of gears just isn’t enough. So, I stall, again, half way on the berm, waiting to fall over.
I don’t. Now I have the whoops, a couple of bermed corners and a few mud mounds to negotiate – not to mention a really tight and sandy left hander – before I can complete the lap and go out and embarrass myself yet again. I decide to give the whoops a miss. Given the sensitive and explosive power delivery high up in the rev band and nothing really in the mid or bottom, it’s a good call for I don’t want to fight THAT fleeing horse all over again.
But, no matter what, I can’t get myself to hold those revs high and ride the KX100 as it is intended; flat out. And so, these terrifying moments – every time the KX hit its powerband – continue; sometimes exiting corners and at other times while negotiating mounds. Eventually, I pull in. I can’t take this excitement anymore. I am no teenager. And this bike clearly isn’t for me.