Jean Turner | September 27, 2020
Cycle News Cross-Rutted
COLUMN
Remembering Ralph Hudson
Have you ever felt something blow past you at 100 mph? Have you ever seen someone go 200 mph? Imagine being taped wide open at 200 mph and then something blowing past you at another 100 mph. That was Ralph Hudson.
Reaching speeds north of 300 (on land) is an extraordinary feat on any number of wheels, and flat out mind-bending on two wheels. But this was a goal for Ralph. To not only break the 300-mph threshold, but to set the FIM World Record there, and be the fastest-ever conventional motorcycle (non-streamliner). It’s a lofty ambition for any racer, let alone one in their late 60s, but Ralph was on track to accomplish the seemingly impossible, and came so close he touched it a few times.
The land-speed community lost a legendary racer and a great friend in Ralph Hudson. Photo: Jean Turner
I was lucky enough to be in Bolivia in July of 2018 where Ralph came the closest to reaching his goal. At Cook’s Top Oil Land Speed Shootout on the Salar de Uyuni, he reached speeds north of 300 mph, he set another world record, and on the final day of the meet he recorded a one-way pass at an average of 304 mph on the mile, and an exit speed of 308, the fastest ever officially recorded. Impressive as it was, he fell short of an official FIM World Record, which requires two consecutive runs in opposite directions. It nearly all came together for Ralph that day—he had the speed, the machine, the crew and the track to do it, but when his turbo-charged GSX-R1000 finally let go that afternoon, his race effort was done, leaving him with the official FIM World Record at 297 mph.
That night at the Cristal Samaña salt hotel, we feasted and celebrated the close of another successful Bolivia event, and multiple records earned. Congratulatory messages were flooding in from the land-speed racing community back home who’d received word about Ralph’s new record and his 304-mph one-way pass. But Ralph wasn’t celebrating. In fact, he seemed to resent the congratulations.
“It was just… it’s great to have gone 300 and have it officially recognized, but, I didn’t do two runs with an average over 300 and get a record,” Ralph said. “To know that I have a bike that was capable of doing that but not putting the two runs together is very disappointing. Even though, I guess no one has gone faster on a natural surface, but you know… you set your goals and it’s disappointing if you don’t reach them.”
I was a little surprised by his sullen mood, but was also in awe. In that moment, Ralph’s character was clearer than ever. He had every right to hang his hat on the 304-mph pass—the world’s first over 300 mph—but he chose not to because it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t the official record, and it wasn’t what he set out to do. It seemed all but inevitable at this point that Ralph would reach his goal, and every “congratulations” he received that night only served to stoke the fire in his belly.
If conditions had been better, Ralph likely would have sailed to his 300-mph goal without an issue, but the Salar had a little too much moisture in 2018, presenting him with an uphill battle on the salt. “Last year the track was like white asphalt. I did a run at 289 and it was just so easy. It was just like riding to the store,” Ralph explained. “And then some of these runs were really, really difficult. I felt like I was in a rodeo or something. I looked at the data and the bike speed was 294 and the wheel speed was 318. So it was really slippery. The tires are slicks so… if we could run knobbies it would probably help,” he added with a laugh, as though 300-mph wheelspin was a laughing matter.
He continued to vent his frustrations about his day, describing conditions that still boggle my mind.
“Two hundred miles an hour is 300 feet per second, so that’s a football field every second at 200,” Ralph said. “So half again, that would be 450 feet per second at 300. You can’t see or react to anything unless it was maybe like a bus. It’s just a bit more difficult to keep the bike going straight than I expected. It was just so slippery.”
Even though it wasn’t the number he was seeking, Ralph came to accept his world record achievement, and even traveled to Andorra later that year for the FIM Awards Gala. He was thrilled and humbled to stand on the same stage with racers like Marc Marquez. His friends were quick to remind him that he was the only world champion on that stage who designed and built his own race bike.
But it wasn’t just Ralph the racer that I admired. Ralph Hudson earned the nickname, “Quiet Giant,” on account of his kind, humble nature off the track, belying his fearless badassery on the track. His quick wit and easy-going personality, made Ralph the kind of person you just enjoyed being around, whether it was at the races or at the bar. Even in moments of tension or frustration, he always gave you his full attention, engaging people with a rare brand of genuine kindness and humor that is hard to find anywhere, let alone in a racer on race day. If you were just dropping in to shake his hand at Bonneville, a fellow competitor who needed help with a mechanical issue, or an annoying reporter seeking an interview minutes before his run, it was never a burden for Ralph. Or if it was, you’d never know.
In January 2019 we had a little Bolivia reunion in Southern California where several of us, including Ralph, met up at Angel Stadium for Anaheim 1 Supercross. We were sipping our $20 beers in the stands and chatting in between heats when the announcer caught our ear. He was introducing “the fastest man on a motorcycle, here with us tonight.” We all stopped and looked at each other, dumbstruck. Our eyes got even bigger when the announcer started talking about a 1000cc turbo-charged motorcycle.
“Do they know you’re here?” I asked Ralph, thinking that perhaps our FIM steward friend had made a phone call to his Supercross buddies. We sat in stunned silence until we realized the announcer was introducing NHRA Drag Racing Champion Rickey Gadson, who was a special guest.
With all due respect to Mr. Gadsen, I wanted everyone in Angel Stadium to know that he was actually the second-fastest man in the stadium that night.
“You should go down there, Ralph,” I said. “Set those guys straight!”
“Should I?” Ralph played along. “Here, hold my beer!”
We laughed as we envisioned boosting Ralph out onto the stadium floor, and watching him dodge security and rush the stage, insisting that he is the fastest man on a motorcycle. Of course, to Ralph, laughing and drinking beer with his buddies in the stands was far better than being in a stadium spotlight.
That’s the Ralph I’m going to miss, the funny, modest, genuine soul who treated everyone like a friend. The racing community lost a giant, and everyone who knew him lost a friend when Ralph succumbed to his injuries from his crash at Bonneville Speed Week. Someday (probably soon) someone else will accomplish his goal of setting the World Record over 300 mph. When it does, I hope we can all raise a glass to the memory of our friend Ralph, who will be somewhere in the stands cheering. CN
