Exiting the museum corner, it’s time to pick the R6 up early, letting it run out wide to the far left of the track as the Yamaha fly-by-wire throttle system gets another chance to work its magic. Hearing the vicious snarl from under the gas tank that tells me we are passing 12,000 rpm, it’s time to shift. Grabbing the next gear and swinging across toward the other side of the track, the tachometer screams back towards red line and I quickly make another up-shift. Straightening the bike up for a few moments, it’s quickly time to roll off a tad for the upcoming chicane. Tucked in behind Rich Oliver, we are on the line that takes me onto the short straight faster and with less drama than I have ever gone before on my many trips to Barber Motorsports Park. As the five time AMA Champion would say, “We are doing the dance,” and the way we flow across the track heading for turn eleven, I’ll bet even the weird old Tosser on Dancing with the Stars would be giving us a “9” for our performance.

Jamie James offering instruction.

Stringing the technical Barber racetrack together like an invisible dot-to-dot picture that shows the perfect line, I marvel at Rich’s seamless, flowing style, as he literally glides around the Alabama tarmac. Setting my inner dialogue to calm and unthreatened, even though we are going faster than I have ever been around this race track, the view I have of the R1, just a few bikes lengths ahead of me, has to be one of the coolest things I have seen on two wheels. Well, until we are heading toward turn one at our new highest speed that is. Tucked down under the bubble tighter than a pair of Christina Aguilera’s jeans, I get the shock of my life. Hearing another engine in close quarters, I look over to see Scott Russell along side me. His devilish school boy grin busting out of his new custom helmet, before he proceeds to disappear in front of my eyes, passing both Rich and I in one easy, fluid motion. Yes! That’s ex AMA Supersport, AMA Superbike, and World Superbike Champion Mr. Daytona, Scott Russell, so at least I don’t feel like such a slow poke. It’s still humbling though.

Ten minutes later, still on the euphoric, adrenaline induced buzz that only high-speed motorcycles seem capable of producing for me, I am listening to the familiar Cajun drawl that could only come from the one and only ex AMA Superbike Champion, Jamie James. Following his every word, my fellow students and I are ready to hit the books for the next classroom segment of our two day instruction at the Jamie James Yamaha Champions Riding School.

Set against the backdrop of a warm spring day in Alabama, the Barber racetrack was an assault on the eyeballs, as we drove through the manicured grounds earlier in the day. Rising and falling along the undulating road, we passed neatly tended flower beds, majestic trees with their bright new leaves, and some incredible sculptures framing out views of the amazing racetrack we would be riding in just a few hours. Traveling with my good buddy, Paul Sutton, to attend the inaugural JJYCRS, we both had very different motivations for attending.

For Paul, it’s the chance to do it right after a couple of crashes as a track newbie last year. Thankfully they weren’t too physically damaging, but they certainly weren’t light on the wallet or easy on the psyche. Seriously debating whether or not he should go back to the track, he couldn’t let it go without at least trying to do it the right way. He wanted to put the last year behind him, go to school, and learn the correct techniques needed to attend and enjoy track days. Besides, the price of two full days of school on a brand new Yamaha R6 is a whole lot cheaper than a new set of leathers and a bunch of bodywork.

For me, I am at a place where my track skills have hit a plateau, and I don’t know how to move forward. Riding with journalists who can go a whole lot faster than me on the same bikes with identical tires, I know it’s me who needs the tune up. I attended Kevin Schwantz’s school many years ago when Jamie was instructing, and it quickly showed me I could lose more seconds improving my skills than by bolting on a pipe and power commander. So, with this in mind, it’s time to get back to class.

As a personal friend of Jamie’s, I have known about the school for longer than it has been public knowledge. So, as you can imagine, there was no way I was going to miss out on the fun. With Scott Russell on hand and Rich Oliver as guest instructor, it was guaranteed to be a blast. As a fan of both riders, I have a particularly cool memory of Rich racing one of Wayne Rainey’s YZR500 GP bikes in a Formula Extreme race in Florida, and being blown away how he decimated the competition, much the same as he did in most of his 250cc racing career. And who could resist the chance to hang out with Scott Russell? What this man can’t do on a motorcycle can be spray-painted on the back of a postage stamp. Supplemented by a quality staff of ex-racers, current racers and the old racing beast “Bill Brown,” there would be no shortage of quality help on hand to help us out.

Rich Oliver in the classroom.

Over the course of the two days, we would cycle between classroom instruction and racetrack sessions to apply the lessons we had just learned. This is pretty standard from the schools I have attended in the past, and Jamie’s Champions school is just his particular interpretation. Divided into seventeen modules and ten track sessions, we also did a track walk as part of the curriculum. Here we watched Scott and Rich ride on the correct lines, as Jamie explained what they were doing and what we should be doing. This was a marvelous chance to study the track at close quarters and take in the beauty of the racetrack from angles most people will never see.

In the classroom we started with a module of street riding safety and progressed through track rules, flags, throttle, shifting, brake markers and apex all the way through to body positioning, “the dance”, hitting our marks, and finally putting it all together. Our class sessions contained video that shows track positioning, as the camera rider stays on line and doesn’t follow us. So if you are off line, you disappear from the screen, and if you aren’t, everyone has a nice view of your riding style, all very helpful stuff.

One of the many other pleasant elements for me was Rich’s interaction, which he sometimes gave from the sidelines, and later in the role of teaching a couple of individual segments. A natural teacher, he complimented Jamie as we all tried to cram every word into our subconscious in our individual attempts to find more speed on the racetrack.

As with all activities like this, the host of interesting personalities attending the school adds another dimension. At 72 years old, and a current licensed WERA road racer, I asked Paul Layman, “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing polyester, playing shuffle board, and going to all you can eat buffets?” With six Edelweiss tours under his belt, and four years of racing his Yamaha R6, it’s leather, race-compound tires, and high-octane gas fumes for this crazy guy. Being joined by his two sons, who weren’t allowed to ride motorcycles as kids, Scott and JB afforded me the unique experience of being passed by three members of the same mad family at a time, usually in the same corner. Husband and wife team, Amy and Ned Heidel, were having just as much fun, and I couldn’t help notice how much faster they were going at the end of the school. Sporting a grin that couldn’t be knocked off with a crow bar, Amy told me she had wanted to learn from the Pros and she wasn’t disappointed.

Out on the track, it took us a couple of sessions to work out our respective pace, and once into small groups that suited us, it was time for some serious learning. I had some very fun laps with ex racer Gary Griffith. Having not ridden on a track in some years, he was attending school with his sixteen-year-old son Jeff who was doing his first track day. I was able to hang with him on the first day, but once he found his sea legs, so to speak, there was no catching him. Old racers just know how to twist a throttle and Gary is no exception. Jeff was an equal delight, and it was awesome to watch his progress over the two days as he proved he has his Dad’s racing gene. Throw in a couple of local racers, Brothers Lee and Adam Schmitt, who happed to be local doctors, and a bunch of other cool riders and there was no shortage of interesting conversation during lunch and other breaks.

Another sparkling highlight was the catered dinner at the museum at the end of the first day. With the whole museum reserved for school participants for the evening, few events I have attended have ever felt this special. Over the years I have been to the museum many times, but strolling around after our dinner alone, gazing at the fastidiously restored and prepared motorcycles topped any previous visit. With a full day on the track behind us, no one lingered too long, as we made for sleep to be on top of our game for a second day of school.

Hitting the track for the last time at the end of the second day, I eased my way through the first couple of laps, staying relaxed as I came up to speed. Feeling my mind was up to the same temperature as my tires, it was time to let fly. Without a lap timer it’s hard to know, but I would wager I have never been faster. Feeling totally unflustered, I hit all my marks, nailed my gear changes, and dialed my brake markers as part of my choreographed routine. The track just flowed beneath me, the R6 worked perfectly, and I was alone in my personal nirvana. Or so I thought. Putting all of the lessons and instruction of the last two days into action, the increase in speed I had been looking for had come with an increased comfort level. With more time and less pressure mentally, I pushed harder and got onto the edge of my comfort zone. Feeling completely aware of this difference, I backed it down enough to regain my rhythm, this adjustment process completely clear in my mind. It was an incredible few laps and chopping the throttle before the session was over, I made for the pit. With a seven-hour drive to make it home, I had achieved everything I had set out to and more, so thought I’d call it quits.

Pulling off my trusty white Arai, I turned to see Stan Simmerson doing the same thing, before this incredible, sweaty grin came tumbling out his helmet. He had been following me for the last three laps and was as genuinely excited about my ride as I was. I had been on the right lines, riding smoothly, and the only advice he had was how to get through the turn leading into museum corner better. I was braking too early, causing me to have to accelerate briefly before bumping over the rumble strip. He told me where I needed to be braking and where to turn in to shave my lap time. It all made sense, and I can’t wait to get back to Alabama and put his advice to work.

Cruising back to North Carolina in the truck, we had a lot of hours to re-wind the events of the past two days. Paul was as pumped up as I was and couldn’t say enough about the experience. Watching him progress through the two day school, it was positive for me to see him learn. I know he could have ridden faster, I’ve seen him do it, but he exercised great self-control and just worked on the techniques we had learned. This kept him smooth, in control, and comfortable, while helping him overcome the demons that have haunted him since his last accident. Of course, we had lots of animated personal highlights to tell. A bunch of us students put band-aids on our foreheads, mimicking Scott Russell who was trying to stop a cut from scarring. Or tales of watching the instructors passing him on one of their flying laps, or dinner at the museum, or…It finally went quiet in the cab when we hit the outskirts of Charlotte six hours later.