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When a contractor and an executive are willing to take their lives in their hands every weekend and pour thousands of dollars into a thrilling sport, they are the first to say they have an addiction.
Willow Glen residents Dante D'Ambruoso and Shawn Herrera finished their first year of professional motorcycle Grand Prix road racing in October 2003.
"It's always been a dream of mine to race," says 42-year-old D'Ambruoso, who started riding mini-bikes when he was 13.
"It's like jumping out of an airplane," he says. "It's exhilarating; you're holding your breath and breathing hard."
Herrera was also fascinated by motorcycles at a young age. From age 5 to 13 he rode dirt bikes. He stopped in his teenage years because his mother was "deathly afraid" of him having an accident, he says.
After he picked up the hobby again at age 30, someone told him he was good enough to race competitively. He joined the American Federation of Motorcyclists—the oldest and one of the most competitive clubs in the nation—three years ago and decided to compete for the first time in 2003.
"I finally found what I have a natural talent for," 33-year-old Herrera says.
Motorcycle racing leaves little margin for error, requires "finesse" and the willingness to take chances, he says.
What many people don't realize is that it takes a good understanding of math and science to race well, says Herrera, who studied engineering and is now a sales executive at a technology company. He adds that the sport demands a strong knowledge of geometric shapes for cornering and centrifugal force to produce a better rider.
Not only is intelligence required, but balance and courage are needed as well.
"You have to be a middle linebacker, a ballerina and a rocket scientist all in one," D'Ambruoso says.
Besides the mental exercise, riders also flirt with danger. Herrera took a spill in 2002 and broke his shoulder, cutting short his racing season with the club. Still knowing the risks, he refused to give it up the next year because "I don't know what I'd do with myself if I didn't have racing," Herrera says.
The danger of crashing at speeds up to 160 mph adds to the adrenaline, and he says he keeps his fingers crossed that nothing serious will happen.
D'Ambruoso says he is continually amazed when no one is hurt during a race in which 50 motorcyclists circle a track eight times. The space between riders is so tight they "could crash if they ran over a dime."
"I always think 'Wow, I got away with it again,'" he says.
Despite D'Ambruoso's and Herrera's luck, others have not been as fortunate. The 2001 World Champion Daijiro Kato was killed in a 2003 race, and D'Ambruoso says he's lost too many friends throughout his 30 years riding motorcycles.
Despite the dangerous chances, D'Ambruoso says trying to quit has been harder than quitting smoking.
"It's in your blood," he says about the sport.
Herrera adds that if racers had a choice between skipping a meal or a race, they would skip a meal.
"We're fortunate to be able to race at the national level," he says.
Most motorcycle racers crash once or twice a season, Herrera says. He adds the causes are often beyond the rider's control. It can happen when a racer bumps another rider, if the track is slick or if there is a mechanical failure.
And mechanical problems are common even in motorcycles that are "cream of the crop on the world level," Herrera says. The bikes used in this type of racing are not street legal. They have a 250cc-size engine and are not manufactured in the United States because of environmental concerns, he adds. These bikes are designed strictly for racing.
"They're not very green," D'Ambruoso says. The bikes are imported from overseas and reassembled in the United States.
Grand Prix road-race motorcycles are half the weight of regular street bikes, which can weigh up to 400 pounds. But Grand Prix bikes have a faster-operating engine that sounds like "a weedwacker from hell," D'Ambruoso says.
A brand new Grand Prix road-race motorcycle costs $50,000. Herrera bought his Italian Aprilia RSV 250 from the 1996 World Champion, who owned it for back-up use. D'Ambruoso paid $20,000 for his used Yamaha TZ 250.
Grand Prix motorcycles are expensive because factories only make a limited number per year, Herrera says.
Along with the money to purchase a bike and to replace a $350 set of tires after every race, Herrera says when suited up he wears $4,500 in protective gear, making the sport a costly endeavor. To help defray the expense of entry fees, tires, gas and travel, many racers look for sponsors. Willow Glen resident Rod Lake sponsors D'Ambruoso and many of the riders.
"If it weren't for him, 100 guys wouldn't be racing," D'Ambruoso says.
Lake, also a motorcycle enthusiast, invited D'Ambruoso to see the Daytona 500 and to be in the movie 3,000 Miles to Graceland. Lake's cousin is Kevin Costner.
Herrera, who has a sponsorship from GP Star tires and his own motorcycle-parts company, Motagear, says he puts a great deal of time, effort and money into his hobby. But winning a trophy makes the cost worth it, he adds.
"You go through a couple sets of tires, and if you can take a $10 trophy home, you're pretty happy," he says.
Cash prizes are rare and are usually under $1,000, but every time a racer places between first and fourth place, the racer's tire company gives the racer a discount.
Herrera earned third place overall in the 2003 season for the superbike—souped-up custom motorcycle—class.
And D'Ambruoso won trophies for placing second, third, fourth and sixth place at six different races in the Formula II—Grand Prix factory-built motorcycle—class. Overall he placed second in the Formula II class.
While D'Ambruoso likes winning, that's not why he rides.
"I ride for the purity of the experience," he says. "To be competitive with young kids is something."
Speeding around raceways at 160 mph, with men half his age, at famous raceways such as Laguna Seca and Sears Point—renamed Infineon Raceway—gives D'Ambruoso the excitement he craves.
He says living in California, especially in San Jose, puts him right in the middle of the best racing in the country, with raceways from Bakersfield to Sacramento.
"Northern California produces some of the best riders in the world," D'Ambruoso says.
Herrera says his neighbors probably wonder what the sound coming from his workshop is when he tunes up his bike. He adds that if people haven't watched a race, they tend to dismiss it. But once they see one, they are hooked, he says, adding that even his mother, who once prohibited him from racing, is now a fan.
But the biggest fans are the racers themselves.
"The camaraderie is unbelievable," D'Ambruoso says. "They'll give you the shirt off their back. Most of the best people I know are from motorcycle racing."
And, Herrera adds, before he found motorcycle racing, he felt like he was missing "the spice in life."
For more information about professional motorcycle racing, visit www.afmracing.org.
Grand Prix road-race motorcycles are half the weight of regular street bikes, which can weigh up to 400 pounds. But Grand Prix bikes have a faster-operating engine that sounds like 'a weedwacker from hell.'
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