The sense of dread began to sweep over us as we entered the first few curves of one of our favorite roads and noticed the familiar thin, black lines that squiggled across the pavement in every direction. Offering tenuous traction even in the best conditions, the pavement sealer used by California's road maintenance crews to fill cracks in the road surface can be downright gooey and slick when the temperature rises in the summer. Although the sealer lines don't make the road dangerous to ride for the most part (because the lines are so narrow, any loss of tire grip is only momentary before the tire comes back in contact with pavement), the constant little slips and slides can easily ruin any confidence in tire traction-and transform what was previously an incredibly fun road into one that is often better avoided.
Avoided at least until a good portion of time later, when the reason for sealing those pavement cracks is completed. More often than not we find that the dreaded pavement seal is an initial preparation for a complete repaving of that particular section of road. Thus instead of having to remember which bumps or broken-up tarmac to avoid (or trolling through at a much-reduced pace due to the pavement seal), we are suddenly greeted with a fresh layer of blacktop that looks extremely enticing as it winds its way through the canyon. So it's all good, everything's right with the universe, and it's time to rock, right?
Well, not necessarily. The asphalt used for common street paving often contains oils that need time to either get worn off with traffic or washed off by the first good rainfall before it will provide optimum traction. I experienced this firsthand back in 1991 riding on one of our favorite roads right after it had been repaved. As I gradually began ramping up the pace over the new pavement, my Yamaha FZR1000's rear tire suddenly lost traction and nearly spit me off. I saved it, but not until after running off the road and doing a bermshot off a hillside with the big FZR, to the amusement of my riding buddies.
Of course once the pavement gets bedded in and cleaned off, the new surface is usually heaven-sent. With most-if not all-of the minor surface irregularities smoothed out, new pavement usually transforms a good road into a great road. The newer, stickier tarmac means more confidence in all areas of riding, sending its fun factor through the roof.
That increased confidence brings with it a couple of caveats, however. On many of our favorite roads that have been repaved, we often find ourselves having to consciously reign things in a bit; the new pavement is so smooth and grippy and the road flowing so nicely that our corner speeds begin ramping up past the point of real-world prudence. No, we're not hanging off and dragging knees or mercilessly grinding footpegs down to nubs, but it's much too easy to get carried away with the superb capabilities of modern tires and chassis and use up that little bit of riding reserve you need to help bail you out of a bad situation.
Ironically, repaving has also robbed us of several sections of road that we used as suspension/chassis test areas. One road comprises a 12-mile string of 50-80 mph corners featuring a tough combination of bumps, pavement irregularities and drastic elevation changes that would give us an excellent readout of any motorcycle's handling performance. Since its repaving, nearly all of the bumps and chunky pavement are gone, and even the rolling hills and dips seem to be less intense than before. Another road that featured a three-mile section of curves laced with sharp midcorner bumps that allowed us to gauge tire and suspension compliance while leaned over at speed was completely smoothed over, rendering it useless for that task (don't worry, we have plenty of other roads that work just as well).
You'd think all would be good with repaving your favorite racetrack, and for the most part you'd be right. Smoother pavement usually means quicker lap times and more fun. But new pavement often subtly changes the character of the circuit as well; those little bumps and surface quirks that used to work to your advantage are gone, requiring another acclimation period to learn the next series of track secrets.
Back when I used to race my Yamaha TZ250 at Willow Springs in the early '90s, the track configuration allowed riders of the 250cc GP racebikes like mine to give machines with over four times the engine displacement fits during a race. Now the track is wider and considerably faster, negating much of the corner-speed advantage of the smaller bikes; the place is a much different animal than it was back then.
Don't get me wrong; I'm usually very happy when a favorite road or familiar racetrack gets repaved. But there's also a small part of me that likes to remember it the way it was.