By Geoff Drake #176894

Riding photos by etechphoto.com

The way I see it, a track day should be Type 1 Fun. For those unfamiliar with the categories, Type 1 Fun is an activity that’s fun while you’re doing it and fun to reflect on later. Type 2 Fun is also permissible: it’s kinda fun to do, but mostly fun to think about later. The thing to avoid is Type 3, which isn’t really fun at all. That means it wasn’t much fun doing it, and it was even less fun thinking about it later—for instance, from a hospital bed.

Luckily, my two-day session at the California Superbike School was Type 1 Fun all the way. In fact, my nerve endings are still slightly enervated from the experience—like when you order a double espresso at exactly the wrong time of day, then follow it up with a second. Wheee!

Twist of the Wrist

I’ve done a lot of track days over the years, but I’ve never completed two in a row. So when I had the chance to attend a two-day session at the famous California Superbike School at the Utah Motorsports Campus in Grantsville, I signed on immediately. Maybe, I figured, it would help me surpass my current glacial speeds. 

The California Superbike School, or CSS, was founded by Keith Code, the author of the seminal books Twist of the Wrist and Twist of the Wrist II. I remember reading the first book 30 years ago (it was first published in 1983), when there was nothing like it for a street rider yearning to safely explore new lean angles. 

While the venerable Keith is still present at most schools, the operation is now largely run by his affable son, Dylan Code. Our two-day school was the first CSS visit to the Utah Motorsports Park since 2018. We used the slightly undulating, 2.23-mile, 15-corner counterclockwise “east” track, one of four at the facility. There were two groups of 16 riders. As a first-timer at CSS, I was deservedly placed in the slower “yellow” group. The bike—a very fast BMW S 1000 RR—and full gear were included. 

These two-day schools feature a two-to-one student-coach ratio, which Dylan calls “semi-private.” This meant there would be plenty of opportunities to get feedback on all my bad habits. Additional coaches conduct video reviews, parking-lot practice, and drills. Each 20-minute track session was followed by classroom instruction from Dylan. There were seven sessions each day, for about 300 total miles of riding. It’s a workout!

There are also lower-cost single-day schools that maintain a three-to-one student-coach ratio and offer five riding sessions per day, instead of seven.

The CSS curriculum includes four levels (one per day), so after two days I “graduated” by completing Level 2. “The levels don’t indicate a rider’s speed or experience, but rather the package of skills presented,” says Dylan. “Level 1 focuses on what the rider does with the controls; Level 2 focuses on vision and trail braking; Level 3 focuses on body-positioning strategies for specific scenarios; and Level 4 offers custom training for the student based on their needs, rather than following a set lesson plan.”

The Familiar Drug of Adrenaline

Track days are funny things. The thrill is undeniable—afterward, my body is literally humming with adrenaline. Usually, a sleepless night awaits as I replay lap after lap in my mind while staring at the ceiling at 2 am. The rational reason for attending is to improve my skills in a spirit of continuous learning, but the emotional reason is the familiar high of adrenaline. It’s a thrill to do it, and an undeniable relief when the leathers come off at the end of the day. 

My goal, as I get older, is to banish ego from the equation. I satisfy my competitive urges in endurance sports (bicycle racing and triathlon), so that’s not what this is about for me. I want to get faster while being smoother and safer. If someone needs to pass, so be it! They obviously want it more than I do.

So I’m gratified that our first session offers a gentle introduction to the course and the bike. The “Double R,” as they’re colloquially known, produces more than 200 horsepower and can exceed 200 mph. It puts my 2016 BMW R 1200 GS—and every other bike I’ve ever owned—to shame. Thankfully, every bike here has a “Liqui Moly” sticker covering the current speed readout, so riders aren’t tempted to chase bragging rights on the straightaways.

Before going out on track for the first time, Dylan tells us we’re to use fourth gear exclusively—and no brakes! It sounds a little scary, but it turns out to be a great, low-stress way to get to know the track. After all, you don’t want to build up too much speed on the straights, or, with no brakes, you’ll be off in the kitty litter in the corners.

The first session is also when I meet my instructor for the two days, the easygoing Brit Johnny Haynes, who has 29 years and more than 320,000 miles of on-track coaching experience. After each session, Johnny and I huddle to discuss my technique—and where I might be falling short. I especially enjoy it when he passes me and pats his bike on the rump—a signal for me to follow his line and mimic his riding style. I immediately feel like I’m in good hands. 

Fast Friends

It doesn’t take long for the groups to gel. After every track session, the large central meeting room (well stocked with food and hydration) fills with the hum and chatter of sweating students in one-piece leathers, conferring with their instructors and trading anecdotes about their successes and near-misses. I spent eight years teaching motorcycle safety for the state of California, so I’m familiar with what makes a good teaching environment. CSS has a pervasive good feeling.

While Dylan is clearly in charge, his father, CSS founder Keith, circulates on the sidelines, always smiling, occasionally helping students with their leathers, seemingly content in his role as a revered elder statesman. He appears content to relinquish control to his capable son, who seems as passionate about the whole enterprise as Keith is. “When I started, no one was doing this,” says Keith. More than 40 years and 150,000 students later, CSS has been an unqualified success.

Much of the first day is devoted to basic cornering skills—which is why most riders are here in the first place. “Good lines are critical,” says Dylan. “Most riders turn in too early.” This often leads to the number one cause of single-vehicle motorcycle accidents: running wide in a corner.

To help learn the correct line, coaches place yellow “X” marks at the turn-in point for each corner. I find these immensely helpful. Even better, as the day progresses, I find I’m hitting the marks without even trying, indicating that the correct path through the turn is becoming ingrained.

According to the CSS curriculum, key cornering steps include:

• Set entry speed.
• Choose correct turn point.
• Turn in quickly and smoothly.
• Focus on the apex.
• Relax and focus on the exit.

One of the leading causes of crashes among less experienced riders, says Dylan, is adding lean angle while applying the throttle. That’s backward. Instead, if lean angle needs to increased, the throttle should be closed or rolled off, then smoothly opened once the road begins to open and the exit point is clear.

Pretty soon, with encouragement from Johnny, I’m formulating a stepwise plan for every corner: hitting the turn-in point, turning in quickly with a single steering input, keeping my eyes ahead and aiming for the apex, then looking ahead again toward my corner exit point.

The sessions also include individual coaching on body position while at a standstill and a parking-lot countersteering drill. By the end of the first day, I find I’m going faster with less effort than before. And no heart palpitations or cold sweats. Success!

A California School that’s not just in California

Despite the name, the California Superbike School is now “nationwide and worldwide,” says Dylan. “While we don’t focus on racers, our graduates have won 111 world and national championships. We use our racer training as a lab to further refine daily rider training. The majority of our students are weekend riders, sport tourers, and now adventure riders.” In other words, guys like me.

CSS has 35 “Double R” BMWs, which, despite their copious horsepower, turn out to be ideal motorcycles for track-day duty because their sophisticated electronic interventions make the bikes safer and easier to ride. Instructor bikes retain the original colorful Tupperware, while student bikes feature flat-black substitute bodywork in case of an unfortunate getoff. 

Day 2

On the second day, I get to try the famous “Lean Bike,” which has outriggers that allow students to safely explore new lean angles. It’s possible to crash the Lean Bike if you set your mind to it, but few do. Personally, I think the goofy-looking bike is a blast to ride and wish I could take it on our local racer road!

During our first track session on Day 2, we complete an entire lap staying along the far-right edge, then another lap doing the same on the left. While it feels awkward, this drill offers a different view of the track and all its imperfections. It also makes you appreciate the full track width once the restrictions are lifted.

Day 2 also emphasizes trail braking: gradually reducing front brake pressure as the lean angle increases in a corner. In recent years, I’ve become a prolific trail-braker to fine-tune entry speed and load the front tire (increasing traction) before smoothly adding throttle—so I feel at home here.

Dylan’s chalk talks throughout the day have a distinctly nerdy, scientific bent. (At one point, we got an exhaustive 15-minute history of the bicycle.) Since I’m a bit of a nerd myself, I enjoy this kind of minutiae. One of the most fascinating topics is a physiological overview of vision, emphasizing the importance of our “foveal” view: the sharp, detailed vision that keeps us on our intended path of travel. 

CSS has even enlisted eye-tracking technology to contrast how accomplished pros move their eyes with those of the great unwashed (me). In classroom videos, the rider’s focal point is overlaid on a view of the track ahead. Not surprisingly, the pro’s vision moves decisively and economically, staying fixed on the intended path. The amateur’s eyes, meanwhile, dart all over the landscape like a druggie on speed. 

Throughout the day, I find I’m getting more decisive and deliberate with my eye movements. It helps immensely.

The New Demographic: Old Guys on GS Bikes

The California Superbike School has plenty to offer go-fast guys and wannabe racers. But the school has also changed over the years. “I think as time has gone by, we’ve broadened our customer base,” says Dylan Code. “We’ve moved away from just the aggressive sport bike rider towards your average tour or adventure rider.”

“The problems riders face are fairly universal,” he continues. “We’re all worried about getting in the corner too fast, leaning it over too far, running wide, and having the bike upset by bumps. We have what Keith calls survival reactions. People react when they’re under stress; their vision is too close or they tense up on the bars.”

I mention that, given our audience, this article will likely be read by someone riding a BMW GS. Even though Dylan has ridden hundreds of thousands of miles on extremely fast sport bikes, he had nice things to say about the big Beemer.

“In my opinion the GS is one of the top five bikes ever built in the history of motorcycles,” he said. “It’s just so capable. If I could have one motorcycle for the rest of my life it would be the GS. It’s a Swiss Army Knife—and you can go really fast on the track on one of those!”

A Good Attitude in The Attitudes

The Utah Motorsports Park is known for an undulating, carousel-like section aptly called “The Attitudes.” By day two, I notice that my attitude in The Attitudes has improved decisively. My lean angles have increased, my approach to each corner is more systematic, and I’m using more of the track. Best of all, I’m going faster, not because speed is a goal in itself, but because my improved technique has naturally brought me here.

At the end of the second day, I go to pick up my bike from a long line of “Double Rs” and head down the entry lane for one last track session. But by the time I’m ready to go on track, the bike is mysteriously bogging and threatening to stall.

An instructor quickly comes over: “Uh, are you sure that’s your bike?” I check the number plate: it’s definitely not mine. I took the wrong one from the lineup, and it’s been set up with a reverse “GP” shift pattern (top gear at the bottom). Oops! Oh well, if that’s my biggest mistake over the two days, I’ll take it. Realizing my error, I loop around and pick the correct bike before going on track. Much better!

I’m wary of crashes happening in the last session of the day, when riders tend to let their guard down. As the school comes to a close, I deliberately dial things back and enjoy circulating the track I’ve come to know so well. In the end, I finished faster and smoother, never once scared myself, and didn’t do anything dumb (besides picking the wrong bike out of the lineup). Type 1 Fun all the way.