I used to race my own bike a long time ago when I was in my 20's. It was a 1976 Kawasaki Z1B that I raced for a couple of years in Production class in Tasmania in the late 70's (around 78 to 80 I guess). I don't think racing of unmodified production bikes straight off the showroom floor is a thing any more. But at the time it was the only class I could afford to get into because I lived in rented accommodation and didn't have the workshop facilities or tools necessary to build or modify a race bike. I bought the bike second hand but it was only a couple of years old so it was still a relatively current model at the time. There were a few other Z1s out there on the track which made it interesting and close racing. As I gained a bit of experience I managed to regularly beat all but one of the other Kawasaki Z1 riders.
The one bloke I couldn't beat had an identical bike to mine - same year, same colour scheme and only a few engine numbers difference. My bike was actually a bit faster than his. I could power past him on the straights, but he'd catch and pass me in the corners, always finishing ahead of me. He once asked me what I'd done to my bike to make it so fast on the straights, and I gave the honest answer that I'd done nothing to it. I reckon it was because it had done about 20,000k on the road before I bought it so was well run in and loosened up. The baffles were pretty much rusted out too so I guess it had a less restrictive exhaust. His bike had never been used on the road. He bought brand new specifically as a Proddy race bike so it had much fewer km on it than mine and intact exhaust baffles (mates watching from trackside told me my bike was obviously louder than his when we both went past on full throttle). Despite my advantage of a bit more straight-line speed, his lap times were significantly quicker than mine. At the time I put that down to the fact that he'd started racing a few years before me so he had a lot more experience. He was also a scrawny little bugger about 20kg lighter than me which would have given him an advantage.
At one stage in a race, my better top speed allowed me to catch up to him on the straight at Baskerville raceway (in Southern Tasmania) and I found myself right on his back wheel going into the fast left hand sweeper at the end of the straight. I figured I might learn something about his cornering technique if I followed his line and tried to keep up. As he carved a smooth line around the corner, I crunched and scraped the bejesus out of the guts of my bike, bucked and wobbled like the bike was trying to throw me off, and ran wide, right off the track and onto the grass. There was plenty of grass area so I didn't crash. I just did a bit of off-road riding and re-entered the track about 10 seconds behind where I'd been. But I learned a valuable lesson. Both of our bikes had the rear springs set on the highest pre-load to maximise cornering clearance, but with me be being heavier than him I was compressing the suspension a bit more. I found that a few mm lower ride height makes a lot of difference at full lean.
That bloke's name was Malcolm (Wally) Campbell, and I could never get anywhere near him on the race track. It was then that I realised I was not, and never would be a competitive motorcycle racer. I gave up racing soon after that and have only ever done non-competitive track days since then, just for a bit of fun. Of course, Wally Campbell went on to become an Australian motorcycle racing legend and also did a bit of racing on the international scene (World SBK and 500cc GP). I think he still does a bit of historic racing.
Me in my Z1 proddy racing days. Baskerville Raceway in Tasmania. Corner 8 coming onto the straight
