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It’s not every day I can awaken, load up my aging trailer with a couple late-model sport bikes, and head off to my favorite venue–el Circuito de Velocidad de Jerez. I’ve had the pleasure of living in sunny southern Spain for five years and, in doing so, have been able to accumulate 300-plus hours negotiating my second love. Don’t worry–my wife knows I’m talking about the grand-prix motorcycle track in Jerez, Spain.

I often hear comments from people about how dangerous my sport is and how they wish I wouldn’t do it. I explain the inherent benefit I gain: Learning how to improve my skill as a rider on the track will keep me safer in a much more dangerous environment–the streets.

Grand prix racing rules are my friend. The Federation Internationale de Motorcyclisme (FIM) racing body requires all their tracks to adhere to certain safety rules in order to obtain a world-class motorcycle event at its circuit. Some tracks endanger riders because retaining walls are placed so spectators can get closer. I understand that people want to be close to the action, but what’s wrong with 50-foot TV screens placed around the track? That way, spectators can watch all the action and feel the excitement when the riders pass in front of their seats.

If you decide you want to ride your bike at a closed-course circuit to improve your skills, pick one that keeps your safety in mind. The tracks I ride on have gravel traps, air fences where needed, and visually enhanced corner markings. They also have corner marshals with a number of flags for various signals to the riders (e.g., oil on the track, rider down, stop and return to pit lane, faster rider behind). It amazes me to think I can rail around corners that Mick Doohan, Kenny Roberts, and Valentino Rossi ride for a price that saves me money by improving my skill and keeping my bike on its rubber.

When I went to the track for the first time, I was new to Spain but had 15 years of street-riding experience. Within days of arriving, I met a couple of fire-breathing daredevils, or so I thought at the time. They convinced me to give the track a go–for the sake of improving my already “expert” riding skills but not actually to race.

I purchased a full set of riding leathers and high-quality leather gloves, but I had to cut corners on the boots because my budget at the time wouldn’t support them. I opted to wear my naval aircrewman boots, which were full leather, as required by track authorities. Since then, I’ve gone through several leathers, gloves and boots and currently am shopping for a new set all together.

The first time I ventured out to the track, brave souls on Enduro bikes bearing half the horsepower of my brand new 1994 ZX-9R passed me on the outside and inside of multiple corners with varying speeds. Nevertheless, I had found a piece of heaven. One 30-minute session had taught me to lean my bike over farther than I ever, in my wildest dreams, had thought possible. Until that day, I never had come close to approaching the full capability of my motorcycle.

Today, I own the very best riding gear money can buy. I purchase all the latest products, which improve the safety and performance of my motorcycle. I read every article available to me from a multitude of sources and surf the “net” to get the best and latest information. I also talk frequently with other riders of all experience levels. All of this preparation, though, does not satisfy my need to lap the track one-half second faster the next time I go.

If you’re wondering what it feels like to take a lap around a closed-course circuit, I can sum it up in a few short words: safe, unrestricted, free, challenging, exciting, tense, and, most of all, rewarding. The reward is delivered in two phases. The first comes as you brake at just the right nanosecond when approaching a corner, turn the bike in off the throttle for the apex entry, then get on the gas right before exact apex and early enough to push the bike out to the edge of the turn’s exit. That thrill doesn’t happen in every corner for a chap of my skill, and even the professional racers make mistakes while trying the technique, but, when you get it all right, it’s rewarding.

The second phase of the reward is received off the track, from the knowledge and experience gained on the track. For example, it happens when you are faced with an unexpected corner that suddenly appears from beneath your headlight. You select bright and quickly realize the road, which you had thought would continue in a forward direction, does not. You get about a half-second to pick where you and the bike are going, and it seems like an hour of mental dialog occurs during that instant.

You usually are faced with two distinct choices: the dirt or the road. It may seem like an easy choice, but, from my experience, the straighter line of the two often will be the dirty one. There is a thing called “target fixation,” and that, my friends, kicks in at the same moment you face trouble. My time at the track has taught me to look through the turn, to focus on where I want to be, and to use the right technique to pull it off.

During one dark night, as I made a nearly ill-fated decision to pass a car after observing a “merge lanes” sign, I was faced with such a decision. I had loaded up my 1994 Kawasaki ZX-9R with a girlfriend, tent, two backpacks, two sleeping bags, tank bag, and some beverages. Needless to say, when you weight down a bike that much, the headlight changes focal paths. What you end up with is a beam of light pointing into the dark night sky. If you hit the bright switch, the darkness is sucked into the beam, and, voila, the road appears before your eyes. It was such a moment when all my riding experience from the track paid off. My pegs, side fairing, and almost my girlfriend’s foot were touching down on the newly paved road. In reality, I got away with a huge mistake that could have hurt both of us very badly.

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to slow down, wait for an appropriate time to pass, and arrive at our destination with smiles from the ride. By the time my girlfriend–now my wife–made it to our camping spot in one solid piece, my heartbeat almost had returned to its normal rhythm. Why I didn’t end up with rub marks in my Fruit of the Looms is beyond me.

If I tried the same move today, I might not make it. Although my training is more well-rounded, the pavement at that time was only two or three weeks old, and it was track sticky. The drops of oil from the thousands of cars passing by surely would drop most riders in the same situation today. On that particular day, all my training, the road conditions, and my wife’s stable, two-up riding skill paid off–and we also were lucky.

I encourage every motorcyclist to join us at the track. The experience is so beneficial that only a fool will turn me down. It’s only a matter of time until a dog shoots out in front of your bike, a car runs a red light, a road mysteriously disappears, an oil slick “jumps” in your bike’s path, or a pedestrian wanders aimlessly into a street where there are no crosswalks. For these reasons and many more, I take my time at the track seriously.

I choose what I want to accomplish before arriving at the track and have a plan on how to do it. If the day’s objective is to have fun, I just tool around and work on being smooth in corners, working my eyes to find the entrance-apex-exit points and concentrating on body position, throttle control, and relaxing my breathing. If I choose to work on my lap times, I pick three corners per session. I begin with going deeper on the brakes by just a few feet until I have it right, and the entry speed allows my tires–front and rear–to slide just a little. For the next session, I pick three more corners and continue to evaluate my braking points. At the end of the day, I try to put all those points together and see what I come out with.

People who think riding a bike close to its limits can be dangerous are right. On the other hand, those who think riding within their means on the street is safe are only buying time. Each person has to go out there–on the street or on the track–and decide what type of rider he or she is going to be. Only then can it be determined the level of safety a particular rider is displaying. I assure you I can ride more quickly, smoothly and aggressively on the track, inside a larger safety margin, than anyone can on any street.

If you’ve never given the track a second thought, I hope you change your mind. I’m currently working on a proposal to teach Sailors track-riding skills for practical street application. I hope the proposal is accepted, and we can save some lives. If you’re ever in southern Spain, look me up. I’ll be more than happy to help you get out on our most prestigious Circuito de Jerez. I’ll also treat you to some tapas and tinto afterward.

MOAB — Adventure racers proudly tell of feet too blistered for walking, of pushing themselves well beyond exhaustion. And their tales have a common theme: It is so-o-o-o-o-o-o worth it!

Adventure racing, basically translating a triathlon into wilderness and white-water extremes, seems to be inspiring more people than it’s scaring away.

“It’s getting through something almost nobody else has done and coming out on the other end — limping, mind you, but coming out at the other end,” said Jodie Levitt, a 45-year old neurosurgeon attending a weekend certification camp for this summer’s Primal Quest.

Primal Quest, or PQ as racers call it, is for the most advanced adventure racers, who need to be certified in skills such as rock climbing and kayaking before venturing out into the woods for hundreds of miles over several days.

But scaled-down adventure races, which give novices a taste of competing for an afternoon instead of more than a week, have been growing in popularity. And weekend clinics are available to people who are interested but not quite sure about the whole thing.

The United States Adventure Racing Association in Austin, Texas, has gone from sanctioning about 30 events six years ago to 350 last year. And many of the races are “sprints” — shorter, tamer versions designed for newbies who know their limits.

“We’re seeing a real change,” USARA founder Troy Farrar said. “We kind of did our sport backwards. We started out with these multiday monsters.”

Adventure racing is a broad classification. Races are usually for teams. The disciplines include biking, hiking and sometimes orienteering, and some sort of water element — usually paddling. Checkpoints can be scattered over a remote area or downtown in a city.

It’s like an extreme triathlon for teams of two to five, who compete together rather than in a relay. Events can last 10 days or a few hours, depending on the teams. The most grueling, such as Primal Quest, require competitors to have certification in the different disciplines because there are risks.

Adventure retreats, such as the one Levitt attended recently in Moab, provide racers a chance to practice and be certified during a long weekend.

Workshops and retreats are held throughout the country, as are the races. It doesn’t take mountainous wilderness to make an adventure race. The USARA summer schedule has races from Florida to Alaska in all sorts of environments and for a variety of teams.

And for those who really don’t want to venture too far outdoors, Houston is hosting an urban race through the city in July.

Adventure racing caught on in the United States with the Eco- Challenge, created by “Survivor” producer Mark Burnett. The physical hardships and squabbling among the teammates made for great TV, and many current racers got the bug to try it.

“It takes a different breed of person to be an adventure racer. Most people would rather sit back on the couch and watch a reality show,” said Dean Baumgartner, a 41-year-old engineer from Geneva, Ill.

Primal Quest begins June 25 in Utah, though the starting point and 500-mile course for the 90 teams won’t be announced until closer to the race. Organizers don’t want participants to get a head start on navigating the wilderness.

Experts don’t recommend major endeavors such as PQ for even the heartiest newcomers. A sprint, with maybe a few miles of trail running, 7 to 10 miles of mountain biking and a 30-minute paddle, is a good introduction. Shorter races also often include a mystery event, such as climbing a cargo net or some sort of team challenge.

After that, participants can work their way up to something like Primal Quest.

Levitt was among a group of racers at a weekend retreat put on by Gravity Play Sports Marketing, a Durango, Colo., company that offers certification and introductory clinics. Participants were instructed in kayaking, orienteering and ropes — climbing up and down the red rocks of Moab in a blowing snowstorm.

Adventure racing is a major commitment of both time and money. As equipment technology improves, making boots, mountain bikes and headlamps just a tad lighter, racers build up quite a collection.

“I feel like I’m a mini sporting goods store,” said Michael Bell, a 35-year-old insurance broker from Fallbrook, Calif. “I own nine backpacks. Nine!”

For novices who aren’t sure how much they’re ready to invest in adventure racing, there are training and introductory camps.

John and Gretchen Gorham traveled from Sun Valley, Idaho, where they run a sandwich shop, to a recent camp in Moab. The breathtaking red rock cliffs of southeastern Utah are ideal for mountain biking and hiking, and the Colorado River is a prime kayaking site.

Gretchen Gorham, a 40-year-old mother of three, was wary of the idea when her husband suggested it. But the camp would at least be a weekend getaway, so she agreed.

Instead of balmy spring weather, the Gorhams biked through blowing snow over some very rugged terrain, getting lessons in both biking and another adventure racing staple: The weather can be a bonus challenge.

WILLIAM DUNLOP will be out to keep one of the most famous names in TT racing to the fore when he makes his debut on the Mountain Course in Wednesday’s Junior Supersport race.

The 20-year-old rider from Ballymoney is the nephew of the late William Joseph Joey’ Dunlop, the winner of a record 26 races in the Isle of Man, who was killed while racing in Estonia six years ago.

And he is the son of Robert Dunlop, a TT winner himself who retired in 2004.

It was only three years ago that young William showed any interest at all in racing. “I just got on a bike one day to see what it was like and it went from there,” he said. “Before then I didn’t have any interest in bikes at all.”

William’s experience to date has come in the main from racing on the road circuits in Ireland - although he has already attracted the attention of the Rizla Suzuki team, who could give him a superbike outing later this month.

His main concern as he lines up on the Glencrutchery Road start line will be the ability of his 600cc Yamaha to complete the 150- mile distance.

“It’s the same engine Jason Griffiths used here two years ago and I have been told there is a possibility it may not last motor the full four laps,” he said. “So it’s a case of fingers firmly crossed.”

When Honda phoned up and asked whether I’d like to come and work behind the scenes as they prepared for today’s final round of the British Superbike Championship at Brands Hatch, I didn’t need to be asked twice. because I wanted to have a go at something different from just bikes going round corners. Mind you, the lighting in the garage took a bit of working out. I knew I had to use flash, because the overhead striplighting wasn’t much help, but I didn’t want to bleach out the light coming in from outside. So I used a remote flash on the floor to the left of the seated rider, Karl Harrison, triggered to fire at the same time as the flash gun on the camera and illuminate Harrison and the background, while the camera flash highlighted the foreground. I like the busyness: the mechanic putting on the heated tyre cover, the team bosses discussing track conditions with the rider, the Honda men keeping an eye on proceedings.

Around the time cosmonauts were orbiting the earth and an unknown band called The Beatles were playing the Top Ten Club in Hamburg, an unusual side project was being cooked up by Honda engineers at Japan’s Tama Tech amusement park.

Not much bigger than a tricycle but equipped with a sporty 50cc engine, the prototype Z100 soon became the park’s most popular ride, and as people remarked how simian riders looked as they phutted around the track, the novelty bike quickly became known as ‘the Monkey’.

Almost 45 years on, the diminutive Monkey still raises a chuckle from onlookers while providing grown-up bikers with a cool, fun and portable method of short-distance transport. Among those to go ape over them are the pop star Jay Kay and Prince Philip, who rides a Jincheng Easy Rider around the Windsor estate.

Known as ‘mini’ or ‘pocket’ bikes in the US and manufactured also by Yamaha and Harley-Davidson, they are banned in several US cities. With their tiny eight-inch wheels and compact 49cc engines, they are technically not mopeds, which means that bored teens hooked on Jackass-style stunts don’t need a licence to ride one. There have already been a number of incidents in the UK, and the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents has gone on record with its ‘concerns about small motorbikes’. In its country of origin, meanwhile, the Monkey rivals that of Tamagotchi or Star Wars in terms of cult appeal. At least four magazines reflect the custom Monkey scene in Japan, and to satisfy demand from collectors, Honda bring out an annual limited-edition Monkey.

The scene is massive in Japan; it’s as big as the Mini cult is over here,’ says David Blackwell of Monkey Bike UK, the main importer of Honda Monkeys and the cheaper Jincheng copies, made in China. His team stages rallies, races and meets all over the country.

Before the weather took a turn for the worse, Blackwell has been selling around 20 bikes a month from his shop in Leamington Spa. Recently, he shipped a two-seater version to Puerto Banus in Spain so that a yacht- owning client could ride around the harbour. Honda publicity from the 1960s featured aircraft captains and gleaming gin palaces, claiming the Monkey was ‘just the job for storing in your Bentley’.

Tom Cole owns a large collection, including a rare tartan-seated 1967 Z50 M. ‘I can put them into the boot of my van or go on short trips into town,’ he says. Despite the shortage of power in pre- tuned models, the Monkey rarely goes unnoticed. Adds Cole: ‘I turned up at the Isle of Man TT race on one and it got more looks than a Ducati.’

Blackwell, who offers a basic pounds 200 tuning service right up to a pounds 4,000 Takegawa four-valve, twin-cam engine upgrade, admits that riding a Monkey is not without its dangers.

For a start, riders are lower to the ground than other motorcyclists, so can have problems seeing far ahead. Other vehicles, especially lorries, seem terrifying as they thunder overhead. ‘Just like other bikers, it’s important to wear bright clothing, as well as gloves, boots and full-face motorcycle helmet,’ advises Blackwell.

Often it’s their speed, not size, that poses the danger. Standard versions average only around 30mph, yet with an engine upgrade of up to 120cc, they can reach the heights of 60mph.

To illustrate the mini bike’s sporting prowess, Blackwell points to the fast-developing Monkey racing scene, based around the Phoenix Racing Centre, Preston and Scunthorpe’s Mini X Motopark. Then there’s the annual Isle Wight Monkey Bike Run, where a record 150 devotees turned up this year. Or you can choose the 100-mile cross- country run in the Derby Dales. ‘There were about 100 of us and we go through all these little villages and up and down the country lanes,’ he explains. ‘The views are fantastic, although it can be slow going for those with standard engines.’ The Monkey magic seems set to continue for a long while yet.

Dan Synge is the author of ‘Cool Collectibles’ published by Miller’s, pounds 14.99

three classic Honda monkeys

CZ100 (1963)

The first Monkey to be imported in the UK. As chic and fashionable as the Lambretta during the ‘Swinging Sixties’.

Z50 M (1967)

Improved engine, folding handlebars and higher tartan-covered seat made this the most practical Monkey to date.

Z50 J (1974)

With full front and rear swing arm suspension, this model is still in production today. The ‘Gorilla’ version has a bigger fuel tank and luggage racks.