Superbike racer Britain has ever produced... I enjoyed his
autobiography where recounts a lifetime of thrills and spills on and
off the racing circuit... Carl is not afraid to say to speak his mind
especially when it comes to the RC30 and RC45... I was shocked...
Carl never speaks bad about the RC45
The bike (RC45) was not at all bad to ride. The braking was good, the
gear changing was positive and the acceleration was smooth and
powerful. But it just didn't suit my style of riding. Whenever I
leaned over in mid-corner, to try and carry as much corner speed as
possible, the rear end tended to come round. Slight didn't have the
same problem, as his style was different. He braked late, was slower
through the bends, but would squirt the bike out of the corner. And at
some tracks the effect on me was worse than at others. That was to be
the story of the year. And Donington just happened to be one of the
tracks where the bike wouldn't perform. I was ninth and seventh, which
was an absolute disaster for the reigning world champion on his home
track. Slight's second place in the final race just rubbed salt into
my wounds. It was the perfect chance for my rivals like Colin Edwards
to open fire with comments like, 'We told you he was shit' ... blah,
blah, blah
Carl's daughter pin points the problem
Slight won the first race, while I clawed my way up to fifth from a
low start on the grid. I have always been a bad loser and couldn't
stand the thought of having lunch in the hospitality compound, where
Slight would be celebrating. Michaela brought me some pasta from
hospitality, so that I could stay out of the way in the motorhome. But
I wasn't even safe there, as Danielle, my own daughter, had turned on
me by then. She had obviously inherited my competitive streak and was
disgusted that I was losing races. 'Why are you not winning any more,
daddy?' she growled. 'Daddy had a problem with the bike,' I said,
apologetically. 'No, not the bike. It's you,' she said with a stony
face. 'When are you going to win again?' 'I'll win the second race,
don't worry,' I assured her, without much conviction.
I had probably never felt as low in racing and, at that moment, I was
planning to quit as soon as I got home.
As I prepared for the second race, I spotted the mechanics pushing our
two bikes back to the garage from the compound in which they are held
after the race to be scrutinised. For the first time I noticed that
Slight's was a lot higher at the back compared to mine. It set me
thinking. After studying some information on Aaron's set-up, I decided
that lifting the rear end higher might stop me from running wide at
corners and might help turning into corners. It could make the bike
less stable down the straights, but that was a risk worth taking. The
changes were made and I got a flying start.
It was a massive improvement. With five laps remaining, Slight and
John Kocinski, who had taken my ride on the Ducati, were holding me
up. At worst I was going to be third but I could almost feel everyone
willing me on to win ~ the people at home, the press, half the
paddock, and Danielle, of course, whose outburst was probably another
big reason behind my new attitude. I was in the perfect position
entering the final lap. And whoever enters the stadium section called
the Motodrom first usually wins the race at Hockenheim. Slight would
be good on the brakes for the final bend, I knew that. It didn't
matter. Because, wherever he braked, I was going to brake later. Sure
enough, lout-braked him, held on and won the race. I felt as though I
could stick my finger up at the world again and say, 'Fuck you lot.'
Quote Fogarty:
"This picture sums up my season with Honda in 1996. You see the bike yet
again losing rear traction mid corner and the rubber left on the track form the
skid a Brands Hatch."
