Remembering Marty Capadona

From: Rolland Waters

Marty's ride ended at the intersection with SE 193rd when a truck driver took a left hand turn in front of Marty. Marty is reported to have been able to get on the brakes (long skid mark) but hit the side of the truck and died instantly.

The King County Sheriff's office is investigating the accident. http://www.kingcountyjournal.com/sited/story/html/144619

There was a memorial service Wednesday October 1st at 2PM at Coulon Park in Renton, on the shore of Lake Washington.

Also a Memorial Ride in Renton Sunday afternoon, Oct. 5th.

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 06:06:13 -0700
From: Chris Denzler 

Marty was my best friend.

Sunday, October 5th, we'll have some sort of ride, rain or shine, to pay tribute to Marty, celebrate his life, and support his wife and two children in their time of mourning.

I will provide details later, but honestly I just can't pull it together enough to organize things at the moment. I will though, and I will be planning for the thousand or so motorcyclists and friends that Marty has known and touched, in his too-brief spin around the block of life. You will be emailed again by Wednesday, Oct 1st, with the specifics.

I want to share with all of you, a story I lived with Marty on one of our many road trips together. It's long and a little rough (like the Best Roads are) so squint your eyes a little bit and don't try too hard to focus while reading it.

                 - Chris

Marty and I learned one lesson from Boy Scouts before being kicked out for disciplinary problems. Always Be Prepared.

We headed east on I-90 around 1:00 PM Saturday. 280 miles to Spokane, cruise control locked on 80, full cooler, and a half a pack of cigarettes.

We were getting near Snoqualmie pass and I was lamenting our lack of female companionship. Just then, a small Mitsubishi 4 cylinder whipped by on our left at around 90 mph.

As the car passed the RSR Van and pulled back into our lane, Marty and I analyzed the noises it's engine was making.

Marty: "Sounds like a *mean* exhaust leak."

Chris: "I think it's a little worse than that."

The moment this exchange was finished, the Bishi puffed out a huge cloud of smoke, then flames appeared on the underside of the thing. Seconds later, it threw a rod through the oil pan and absolutely grenaded the engine. The RSR van was pelted by engine parts, some large, some small. Fortunately, they bounced off our grill or underneath the van as the Bishi was simultaneously coating us with crankcase oil.

The driver (a blonde female in our basic age bracket) pulled the car over to the side of I-90 and we pulled up behind. Instantly I realized the fire extinguisher was right next to my seat. I jumped out to put out the engine fire, closely followed by Marty. We got the hood open (fortunately it wasn't too hot to touch yet) and put the flames out with our race-spec extinguisher. I unhooked the battery as well, thinking that with that amount of fire damage, there could be an electrical short that might restart the fire.

"It's dead, Jim", we pronounced.

"Are you guys fire marshalls?", she said.

We exchanged pleasantries with Stephanie (who was having an absolutely *horrible* week) and she asked where we were headed. She had been on her way to Montana in her *ex-boyfriends* car to swap it for her own.

For some reason she deemed us non-threatening, and asked if she could ride with us to Spokane....

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(when last heard from, your protagonists had just packed the lovely Stephanie into the back seat of the RSR van and were still heading eastward....)

After yakking with Stephanie for 15 minutes or so, we took the Easton exit so she could call her ex-boyfriend to tell him about the fate of his little econobox and make plans for the rest of the trip. I called Wanda and explained that we may have an extra guest or two for dinner, and that we would be a little later than planned.

Stephanie decided that *I* should be the first one to explain the situation to the ex-boyfriend, Evan, then she would get on the phone afterwards. I think she wanted us to reassure him that she wasn't *beating* his car or anything like that. Yeah, right. I don't like to lie about anything in general, but this situation seemed like an exceptional circumstance. And she had already had an *awfully* bad week...

"Is this Evan?"

"Naw. Hang on."

"Ungh."

"Evan, my name is Chris. We just picked Stephanie up on I-90. The engine in her car totally exploded right in front of us. It's ok though, we managed to get the fire out before the whole car went up. I can't imagine how it happened."

"UnGH???"

I handed the phone to Stephanie, and Marty had coached her well. She immediately got Evan on the defensive, asking how the hell he could have let her drive that piece of SHIT all the way to Montana. We made arrangements to have Evan meet us in Spokane, so he could take her the rest of the way to Montana. We assured Stephanie that we were heading to the home of H. Marc Lewis, one of the coolest people on the planet, and that dinner would be waiting for us.

As we learned over the next few hours, Evan is one of those guys that should have a big "A" tatooed on his forehead, so he can be identified as an "Asshole" from a good distance. Evan didn't show up to meet her in Spokane, needless to say.

We counseled Stephanie on the RSR Philosophy of life, and after a time she realized her bad fortune of late was now on the upswing. We explained about the roadraces and gave her directions to the track, and she assured us that she would come by on Sunday if everything worked out. She wanted to be in the pit crew and wear white coveralls at first, but after 3 or 4 beers she had committed to wearing a bikini in the pits and being the RSR umbrella girl.

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(when last heard from, RSR were still heading east with Stephanie in tow.)

After a bit, conversation in the van died down. Many young adults were also heading east, toward the Metallica concert at the Gorge. Consequently, even at RSR nominal, we were being passed frequently in the mid-90s heat.

A Triumph TR7 passed in the left lane, two 18-something males in dad's car. As they passed, a tell-tale (and familiar) puff of smoke erupted from the tailpipe. Marty and I looked at each other with a sense of deja-vu.

Marty: "It's going down"

15 seconds later, it went down. The next blown engine victim, coasting to the side of the road. We pulled in front of the TR this time. The two guys were obviously not experienced in the art of "blowing up Dad's car" and were sort of running around like chicken's with their shaved heads cut off. Marty and I figured we could shoehorn them in and ride them up to the next exit so they could use the phone. They were indecisive. Marty offered the ride, or they could hang out there and hitchhike, since every third car on I-90 eastbound was going to Metallica. They were still indecisive. "You've got 5 seconds to decide if you want a ride or if you want to hitchhike", I said. They couldn't decide. We left. As we continued down the freeway, we passed an average of one broken cage full of MetallicaHeads every two miles.

The rest stop on the west side of Vantage was packed with overheated cars going to Metallica. Marty and I went to the bathroom, which was packed, so I yelled "Who's going to Metallica!" The restroom erupted with shouts and cheers of "WWOOOO-HHOOO!!!", at about 120 dB.

On the road, heading east. Stopped in Sprague for gas, and Stephanie called to confirm that Evan should in fact be getting his "A" tattoo very soon. Managed to lose one of the gas caps to the van. We discovered this after the races as Marty and I took hot laps in the van around the track (with a race official in the back seat) We were a little worried about spilling gas on the track even after the races but the unnamed official said "screw that, it's the last race of the year. Lets do those hairpins again!"

Finally we arrived at H. Marc's house. Marty and I stuffed ourselves with pizza while Stephanie showered. Phil volunteered (a little *too* quickly, I might add) to drive her the rest of the way to Superior, Montana. Phil arrived back late that night. He confirmed from circumstantial evidence the next morning that Evan, the ex-boyfriend, was in fact deserving of the big red "A".

Stephanie never did show up at the races. She did manage to leave us with her blanket and phone number, however.

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Sunday morning, Race day. (oh yeah, there was racing this weekend too.) I woke at 6:00 and showered and started some very high-test coffee.

I lost myself in an MV Agusta article for far too long, as Marc and Wanda once again hustled up the Rock and Roll breakfast. At 7:15 I woke Marty up, and he was grateful for the extra sleep. Normally I wake him up really early just out of spite, but he needed the sleep badly this time.

It seems the 6 pieces of pizza Marty had wolfed down in 15.7 seconds (hand timed) the night before had not set well. He wound up with a solid 2 hours of sleep with breaks in between for...aerobic exercise.

We had a late start for the track, and I still needed to have a tire changed and complete my race prepping. I missed practice and decided to use the BEARS race (British European American Race Series) for practice. I got a really late start for the warmup lap, so I jetted around by myself, got to the grid, and lined myself up behind the back row so I wouldn't be tempted to try and break in my brand new front slick by throwing the bike on it's side in turn two. According to plan, I got a horrible start and was last at the end of the straight. A couple laps to break in the tire, and I started picking off a bike here and there. After 3 laps or so I caught my brother Gus on his 1100 Guzzi and shadowed him for awhile to watch his lines. He had a little power on me but I had better drives and cornering speed.

Every now and then I'd show Gus a wheel, and he'd lean it in a little harder, and chatter the Guzzi to the outside of the track, taking up my passing line. Eventually, I got tired of hanging around behind him and passed, but never could catch Marty and Ron Radko, who looked to be mixing it up pretty well quite a ways ahead of me. I realized later I'd gone out for the wrong race...I was actually signed up for Formula Thunder instead of BEARS, and the only reason the officials had not chased me off the track was because I was so late getting out for the warmup lap.

Marty's finish netted him 2nd in BEARS for the 1998 season.

Marty also diced with Radko in Formula Thunder, eventually getting past for 3rd. That 3rd place got him 2nd in Formula Thunder for the 1998 season.

The afternoon had both RSR riders out for 650 Twins. Marty had already clinched the season championship in that class by virtue of Cedric Smith not showing up. So no team riding was in order, and we agreed that if I could get past him I should go for it.

I got a better start and passed up to 3rd place on the brakes into turn 2, behind Ken Botham and Marty. Tyler Sandell was right behind us. I followed Marty for a couple laps and got past between the hairpins and took off. I never looked back because I thought Marty and Tyler were right there. I couldn't catch Botham but I had a great race by myself, riding the F1 harder than I had ever before, chastizing myself in those corners where I knew I was going too slow, and sliding the bike around a bit, which I hadn't done much on the F1 before. I hadn't ridden the F1 since the middle of June at Bremerton, so it took a bit of reacquanting. I finally broke some of the mental barriers that had me riding it like the TL1000 last year and started using more brakes and cornering speed. It was fun, I got 2nd, Marty got another 3rd and he wrapped up another championship for Rocket Science Racing. Best of all, we didn't crash. Very few people did the whole weekend. We were sad to hear that Paul D was one of the unfortunate few to get hurt.

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After the races, Marty and I caravanned together with Trippy over to Tim's. All 3 of us were pretty well fragged by that time. 100 degree trackside temperatures will do that to you. How Tim managed to go race, host the party and stay vertical I cannot understand.

As would be expected, we found the keg and clustered around it. At 8:00 PM, I thought I was done for sure. It seemed like 2AM. I made a quick call to Mom to let her know we were ok, and briefly thought about melting into a couch.

I think it may have been the sight of AndreaR's party dress that perked me back up. Or maybe MiG's...I forget. In any case I got the proverbial "second wind" and the next thing I knew it was dark and I was involved in a deep disjointed conversation with Randall and everybody was gone.

(there were other things that happened in the meantime, but remember, only *some* of it is printable.)

Around about 1AM, as Randall and I were putting the finishing touches on a truly righteous buzz, a bike pulled up. It was SwtP with the young Holly on pillion. (WetLeather JailBait of Choice?) BB and I hustled them up some leftover pig and I recall digging in again for seconds or thirds myself.

Morning comes quickly with a whining pug 6 inches from your head. Wait, it's still the middle of the night. I tried reasoning with the pug, but it could not be convinced to stop it's snuffly whining. I reasoned with myself...there are 5 of us in the living room and 1 whining pug. There are only 2 of Tim and Andrea in their bedroom. Insert one whining pug in bedroom and shut door behind it. Mission accomplished. Fall asleep in chair.

Morning comes quickly with an absurd hangover and 2 hours of sleep. Yes indeed, it is morning this time...

After breakfast, Marty and I hit the road. We managed to run into people on the way back at every stop. SwtP and WLJBoC at Sprague, then Havoc and Wendy and Andrea at Moses Lake.

I got an excellent tit flash from Andrea on I-90 as they passed...that really 'perked' me up. Marty missed it completely, too. That greatly increased my enjoyment of the event.

Many many thanks to Marc, Wanda, Phil, Tim, the Andreas, Martin, Carol, oh the list just goes on and on and I would forget someone if I tried to put too fine a point on it. How about: "Everybody. You Rock!"

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Marty and I cruised I-90 homeward at somewhat less than RSR nominal. In fact, terrifyingly close to the posted speed limit. Despite our drained conditions, somehow we didn't want the weekend to end. We didn't talk too much, didn't listen to music.

We got into the traffic jam outside Cle Elum. That picked the mood up somewhat so we slapped Bowie on the CD and I choked down a half a beer for medicinal purposes. A mile or two and 30 minutes or so up the road we spotted a dead van by the side of the road and a truck parked in front of it.

There stood two fairly pretty women with a quickly lettered sign saying "Cables?" with a little heart next to it. Naturally, RSR is prepared with fully functional jumper cables, so we pulled over in front of them.

As soon as we pulled over, another van pulled in front of us and began backing toward us. I attempted to wave the opportunist off, to let him know that we had the matter under control and needed none of his help.

Just as I noticed the Ducati sticker on the back of the van, it stopped and Rolland jumped out. What the hell? There were a few hugs and some backslapping as Rolland explained that he was really just passing through on his way home from Ellensburg. We filled him in on the party and he regretted missing it.

An impromptu tailgate party by the side of I-90 followed as we waited for the stranded travelers to finish with the cables so we could get on our way. The male to female ratio of their group was far too high to be of much interest to us, so they took off while we chatted with Rolland. He had an idea for a backroad detour around the traffic, and an excellent map, so we headed for the next exit at Cle Elum.

A mile up the road, the stranded travelers once again had a dead battery, so I jetted up the shoulder in the van, gave them the cables and my name and number and asked if they could get them back to me in a week or so. Naturally offers of cash were refused. We did ask if they had any beer.

Rescue number 3 was when Marty quipped, "The heck with RSR, we should start 'The Rocket Foundation'". We giggled as we envisioned the slogans. Phil's classic..."Saving lives. One lap at a time."

We merged back onto I-90 with Rolland in tow and finally exited at Cle Elum to examine his map.

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We examined Rolland's map and struck out from South Cle Elum on back roads toward Easton. We made several wrong turns before we collectively realized that Rolland was trying to read the map and drive at the same time. In a flash the concept grabbed hold in our collective conciousness, and the map was transferrred to Marty's lap so he could navigate and I could drive, while Rolland followed.

Several wrong turns later, we found the road. It is called WestSide road and is highly recommended as an alternative route. There was absolutely no traffic. The sun was bright, the wind was strong from the south and scattered freshly fallen yellowing leaves in our path. The temperature had dropped and there was a crispness in the air, the very first of the weekend.

In time, we rejoined the freeway to find much less traffic. Marty handed the map back to Rolland at 70mph and Rolland literally disappeared off into the sunset, as we continued near the speed limit.

When I finally entered my driveway and stumbled up the walk, my neighbors called across the street to me. "Hungry?" they asked. "Tired", I bleated. I was so tired, I could not even make it up the stairs to shower first.

I laid in bed for just a moment before I fell asleep. The images of the weekend pushed their way repeatedly, sequentially into my conciousness, begging me to watch them in rapid sucession before sleep came. One of the last I saw was me driving through the poplar leaves into my driveway.

They weren't there when we began the trek eastward. We had departed at the end of summer, and returned at the beginning of fall.

                                      - Chris 

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Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 08:29:04 -0700
From: Randall Mietzner 

I am very saddened by this, I guess I'll share this, when he messed up at Spokane, didn't tighten something in the front brake, went out and it locked up. Broke his collarbone, he made the ambulance stop at the RSR pit area. He got his sunglasses and a marg. for the rest of his ride - The guy had CLASS....

Rest in Peace, Friend Randall

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:00:25 -0700
From: Brett Parker

I think there's still a photo on micapeak somewhere of me passing him on the outside in turn 9 at SIR, early on in his racing career.

Times under the TWL Awning.

And the time he asked his wife to take me to the emergency room when I broke my collarbone at SIR in 1998.

Damn.....

--Brett

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:02:49 -0700
From: Terry Powell 

I thought about Marty this past weekend. Watching the last AMA 250 race on Speed, I flashed back to a trackday at SIR in 1996. Kory had 'thrown the keys' to his 250 at me for a little orientation. I did around 10 laps and came back in. Someone asked me how I liked it just as Marty walked over and put his hand on the front tire. He looked up with one of those zen like grins. He knew I hadn't even come close to riding the bike. Saved me from embarrassing myself with some sort of bs that everyone else would have easily recognized. That's the impression I always had of Marty, quite, no bs but smiling. I think I'll stick with that one today.

--Terry

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:11:34 -0700
From: Niko Kontoudios

At the Capadona home late last night, while remembering Marty - shooting star.
Later still, while I was leaving - another shooting star.

You bet brother.
Will do.
dios

Date: Friday, September 26, 2003 10:27 AM
From: Christian (Squido) Owens

I'm a wreck.

I've been staring at my computer for the last 2 hours with just enough presence of mind to call around and try to figure out what the hell happened.

I read Chris's race report from '98 and thought of my last road trip with Marty a little more than a year ago. Marty had figured that he could take time off to go to Laguna. I also got the last minute reprieve and since we were both on tight schedules we decided to travel together.

5 days of disorganization and a devil may care attitude. It was like most road trips, unpublishable for the general audience lest the guilty loose even the thinnest shred of deniability. But I will say that trading porn for beer somewhere North of Roseburg on the return trip was easily the tamest thing that happened on that trip.

Last Tuesday I was sitting with Marty in Goat's living room. We were both having beers when Marty looked down at our feet. We were wearing the same moccasins. He gave me that 'what the fuck?' smile in recognition of that small bit of synergy.

I said goodbye that night, but I didn't know I said Goodbye.

I will always remember his smile. Or maybe more accurately his mischievous grin. He was always getting away with something.

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:28:56 -0700
From: Randall Mietzner 

At Spokne Racceway Park, Tim K. and I rode over, this was before Tim started racing 4?5 years ago? Anyway, Tim wanted to show off his '52 Triumph T-Bird and he had me ride his Triumph Tiger w/Top Box as a escort ( stuff in the top box, just in case). Lunch time, Tim let Chris Denzler ride the T-Bird to Longhorn BBQ, I forget what TIm rode, Hmarc came along,, I was on the Tiger, Marty rode on the back. At Longhorn I think we all ended up getting the Buffet which is $11.50, when Marty saw the amount he just handed it to his best friend/racing partner, not a word said. As we left, I dragged the centerstand and missed the 1st to 2nd shift, so impressive, me nervous? with roadracer of Marty's calibre on the back? nah, emabarassed, yes. When we got off the Tiger in the back of th epits, Marty simply said, "That's not your bike. is it?"

Randall

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:35:01 -0700
From: Ed Guzman

marty was about the 3rd person i met when i moved up here almost 6 years ago now. he's certainly one of the most memorable...

two quick anecdotes: i'll always and forever remember the roadtrip chris, marty and i took to go pick up this bike from brad turner in SFO:

http://www.micapeak.com/Phil/wr15.htm

i'll spare everyone the obvious stories about the beer, etc. what i'll always remember was the laughter. you see, i'd been working like a dog at the new job, and with my family 1200 miles away, i'd lost a lot of my sense of humor. unbeknownst to him, marty almost single handedly brought it back. the patter, the jokes and wisecracks... but the crowning moment came on the way home.

marty was driving and i was sitting in the back when i noticed it got cold in the van. (it was winter, in a storm no less.) i looked over at the water gauge and noticed it wasn't registering, i.e. we had lost our coolant. marty nursed the van to the next rest area where a hose let go in a big way just as we pulled into a parking spot.

amidst a huuuge cloud of steam our 3 heroes emerged from the van and marty, in that patented way of his annouces to all and sundry, "we're here!"... classic marty.

but it would be far too shortsighted to simply remember "marty the party"... for marty's also one of the nicest, most generous guys i've ever met. second anecdote...

two days before the very first WL track day i discovered the swingarm on my SS was cracked. i was, as you might imagine, pretty bummed. having a beer over at chris' place, marty didn't even blink: '"dude, just borrow mine!". it's probably part of the racer ethos. i don't know, i'm not a racer. but then that's what made his kind and generous offer so wonderful to me. marty had never even seen me ride. he just gave.

*that* was marty.

if there ever was anyone who deserved the description of "larger than life", it's marty... i know my life is just that much richer for having had the privilege of his company. thanks dude..

thank you for everything. and next time we meet? i've got the first round...

fast track and godspeed.

Ed Guzman, CB #4 -  DoD#1182 - TCA#86-23284 - AMA#598062

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 10:35:45 -0700
From: John Spoonemore 

Something tells me I missed meeting a hell of an individual, and I feel that much emptier for it.

Judging from the anecdotes, the outreach that many of "us" have expressed, I am stricken at his passing, and sorry that I had not the opportunity to meet him

In the words of another....Fast Track, and Godspeed indeed, Mr. Capadona.

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 13:22:56 -0700
From: Tim Keane 

When I first met him, Marty was one of my few racing heroes. One of those rare guys who can win championships while seeming to not take anything seriously. I aspired to emulate his smooth graceful riding style on the track and his carefree attitude off of it.

Then as I got to know him better he impressed me even more, as I saw him being a great father and husband and friend. Generous and always smiling, he helped me learn how to race and more importantly to learn how to enjoy racing. His ability to balance all the joys of life, ride like a pro, party like a rock star, and then make dinner for his kids was unique. He was one of the smartest, funniest, nicest and just generally all-around best people I have known. To say that he will be missed is the hugest of understatements. I feel privileged to be able to say that Marty was my friend and teammate, and the mark he left on my life is indelible.

Godspeed, my friend.

-tim

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 13:28:11 -0700
From: Scott Avery

It's difficult to know where to begin.... Life and racing won't be the same without Marty in it. I cried last night and then I hoped that this would all be a bad dream that I'd wake up from in the morning.

I remember when I started racing. I'd watch how Marty and Chris would interact, how they would handle the race day ups and downs, how people would flow to and from them. I used to hope that Ron and I would end up like that someday. Two good friends, cagey veterans of racing, who knew what they were doing and could have fun at it.

Marty always made the most of life, he embraced it full on. I'm a better person for having known him. He always had a warm smile and a wry wit to keep me on my toes. I'm proud to call him my friend.

I miss him, very very much.

Scott

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 14:04:42 -0700
From: Rolland Waters

Twice in recent memory I've been woken up to really bad news.

Two years ago it was a call from the west coast about bad news on the east coast.
This morning it was a call from the east coast about bad news on the west coast.

Normally when I get bad news I don't so much blow it off as just accept it in balance with the good. This can be hard to do, but it gets easier if you practice not getting completely giddy when all the cookies end up on your side of the plate. It also helps to be lucky. Not only do you not get as much bad news, but the bad news you do get is usually tempered by the knowledge that it could have been a lot worse.

Somehow, I've managed to make it more than 40 years without losing a close friend in my age group. That isn't to say there hasn't been a certifiable tragedy or two, but the list of near-misses is far longer than the tragedies.

But sometimes luck runs out. Two years ago, in a country large enough that most of us on this coast were at least two steps removed from 9/11, I knew not one but two people to die on AA Flight 11.

Why then, is the hole in my heart bigger now than it was then? The answer is obvious to those who knew Marty -- and probably even to those who only got to meet him once. I've "only" known Marty for a decade, but every time I saw him his good nature and keen sense of balance was right up front.

Win, lose or crash, Marty knew that was deal both in life and in racing. He was happy when he won; he was happy when you won. But he didn't beat himself up for breaking his collar bone after not putting his brake calipers back on right; he didn't even beat Jimmy up for running me off the track.

Shoot, Marty was happy just to see me race, and when I hung up my numbers, he respected that too. I can't imagine what life is going to be like for those who've known him since forever, and especially for Maura and their kids. And Chris too.

Oh shit, Chris. I'm so sorry.

Rolland

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 15:02:30 -0700
From: jenner 

Oh no... What awful news on a Friday.

Since I'm not a racer, I only crossed paths with Marty a couple times. I think we exchanged only a few words. He seemed very friendly and kind. The real impression I have of Marty is by the quality of people who did call him friend. Two degrees of separation is not much of a personal loss for me, though I am saddened, but to my friends...

Take care. If you need anything...

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 17:13:36 -0700
From: Andrea Rainey

Marty always had a big grin and a hug for me, accompanied by something along the lines of, "Hello gorgeous!"

One race weekend, he slept on our couch (unless Goat got there first) while "The Kid," a young racer whom Marty was mentoring in more ways than one, slept directly on the living room rug. Old age and treachery...

I remember one year designated-driving him and a bunch of _extremely_ wasted racerpeople around Seattle in the RSR van to celebrate Marty's birthday. That van was a piece of shit.

Andrea Rainey
www.HouseofMarley.com
http://members.ebay.com/aboutme/raineya/
Extraordinary Apparel for the Fashionable Pug [TM]

Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 23:26:43 -0700
From: Rachel Herold

I don't think Marty even knew who I was. But he was one of two racers that I watched and tried to learn from. I never got started with racing so I didn't ever get to try and practice what I was trying to learn about that; but I never forgot what he taught me off of the track. I guess he taught the same thing to many many people. There aren't many people I admire, many that I like, but few that I admire. Marty was one.

Rachel

Date: Sat, 27 Sep 2003 16:02:19 -0700
From: Glenn Minch

The news about Marty has caused much sadness and, probably, a review of what mortality means for many people. Marty had genuine charisma. I knew him only casually but I will remember him for those times we did meet and for his writings as a friendly and inventive person with a sharp wit. I didn't see much of Marty on the track except on track days when he'd pass me and I could hang on for a turn or so. Marty was smooth.

Glenn Minch

Date: Sun, 28 Sep 2003 17:33:36 -0700
From: Gooz

i decided i needed to spend the day with my best friend. the kids decided they didn't want to go and that was ok with me. i didn't want to force them like my parents would've, so we farmed them out to some of their church friends and off susan went.

i'd thought about riding but i wanted to be able to reach over and hold susan's hand now and again so we drove my car. we headed out to ravensdale then turned north onto hobart-issaquah road. as we drove i could feel my heart getting heavier as i scanned the road for signs. there were a few spots that caused me to catch my breath.

then, just after hobart and just about 1/4 mile before Hwy 18, i found the spot where marty breathed his last...

we drove past and turned around. then we came back one more time and i found a spot not too far away to park and we walked back. the telltale ashes from the flares were still intact, the orange paint outlining various things still bright. i'd been down that way 1000 times myself over the years. just coming off 18 and past the light towards hobart, the road begins to swoop and bend. a smile will come to your face as it's a breath of fresh air to a biker who's just droned over tiger mountain or survived the stifling traffic of issaquah.

as i stood there i envisioned marty winding up the throttle to enjoy that little stretch. i usually do. it's a gentle uphill righthander that snakes under some beautiful old trees and as you top the rise you see the next turn and hill beckoning. i don't know what was going through marty's mind at the last. i hope it wasn't anything like the day in day out toil and strife we use our bikes to get us away from sometimes... i hope it was how beautiful the day was or what a great family he has.

as we stood there with the traffic zooming by, oblivious to the significance of that particular place and time, i felt something brush the back of my leg. i looked down to find a mylar balloon and flowers that someone had already left in memoriam. as a gentle breeze came up, susan held me and the tears streamed down my face as i began to weep...

friends, i'm sorry. i can't finish this. i'd planned to write about the wonderful day susan and i had driving up to la conner for lunch and antiquing but i just can't right now.

--
Ed Guzman, CB #4 -  DoD#1182 - TCA#86-23284 - AMA#598062
=><= =><= =><= =><= =><= =><= =><= =><= =><= =><=

Date: Mon, 29 Sep 2003 21:02:22 -0700
From: Michael Bateman

I have been trying to come up with words to describe my thoughts and feelings at Marty's passing. I have failed. I have managed to get in quite a few good crys while attempting it though. This similarly fails miserably but will have to do. Growing up in the funeral business you'd think I'd have some experience, and I do. A lot in fact. However, nothing has prepared me for this. Marty's passing has affected me like no other ever has except my grandfather.

I met Chris and Marty at the track of course, many years ago (I really can't totally separate those two guys in my mind or memory). I can't remember exactly when we became friends, but I liked them from the day I first met them. Each so different from each other yet the same, antagonistic to each other yet supportive. They were of course legends already at the time, but you'd never know it from the way they treated pretty much everyone else. Nonjudgemental, open, happy to let you be who you are and like you (or not like you) for who you are and not anything else. Be yourself dude - we're fine with it. Here have some of this (or refuse it - your choice no offence taken either way). Get really shitty and we'll put up with it fine (though we'll make good hearted fun of you if we're not similarly shitty at the time and you may wake up with something dramatically wrong with you). Be an a temporary prick, be sensitive, be friendly - whatever.

Both Chris and Marty were (and are) open, friendly and generous to a fault. Somehow over the years the pair became among my closest friends from the track. Some of my fondest memories in recent years involve one or both of them. Several years ago I spent a couple of weeks on and around my birthday "living like rock stars" with Chris, Marty and others. Most of it is (as is typical) completely unprintable and not a small amount of it is at least somewhat unbelievable. Doesn't matter.

I've done some thinking about it today and Marty (and Chris too of course) are a large part of the continued development of my self-image and my ability to be the person I want to be. I've grown in your presence. Thanks for everything guys.

I have come to depend on exchanging some small words of some sort with Marty in the morning at the races. Always friendly even in the face of adversity (or a horrific hangover, or...)

I will sorely miss Marty's presence, wit, charm, generosity, sense of adventure, ability to roll with everything thrown at him, wry humor, quick tongue, and everything else as words just cannot do justice. The world is a much poorer place now.

Godspeed my friend. And thank you. I will cherish my memories forever until I join you.

Bateman

Date: Tue, 30 Sep 2003 12:16:07 -0400
From: Robert.Hess

Carl, I'm a friend of Marty and Maura's from college. Here are some pix from our days in spring break in Florida and college. My deepest condolences to Maura, Alexa and Griff. My sadness is with them at this time. Please post these if you like.

Marty_86.jpg
AMC_Spirit_road_trip.jpg
fl_spring_bk.jpg
grad_celebration_cinti_86.jpg
leaving_from_FL.jpg
return_to_cinti.jpg

I've talked to several of Marty's friends back east and we are all just shocked and saddened .. and wish we could be there to support the family.

As our friend Harv told me last night, "I haven't talked to Marty in a while, but with close friends like that, it doesn't matter." Marty taught me about having fun, and NEVER taking anything too seriously except your family and friends.

God Bless,

Bob Hess
Robert J. Hess

Date: Wed, 1 Oct 2003 17:31:36 -0700
From: H Marc Lewis

Today, just before 2:00pm, in 75 degree sunshine, I went for a ride south of Spokane in honor of Marty, whose memorial service I couldn't attend. As I passed the place where just last weekend, while leading Wanda's son Ryan on his first street ride (on Wanda's Ducati Monster), we came upon a large buck in our lane, I "woke up".

I'd guess the deer had just been hit moments before. It appeared to have a broken back, and had its head raised, blood dripping from its mouth, and a fear-striken look in its eyes. Seeing it again today in memory's eye caused me to dwell for a moment on how much luck, good or bad, plays into our lives. Particularly as motorcyclists. I know too many riders who've hit deer/animals that jumped out in front of them. I know too many riders who've hit cars/trucks who pulled abruptly in front of them.

I had one of those "moments", kind of like a few incredibly clear seconds of Enlightenment, where I realized that, in spite of the constant danger, in spite of the occasional bad luck, I have no intention of giving up motorcycling. Though I can, and sometimes do, worry about my safety, it all disappears when I get on the bike and up to speed.

Somehow I feel more in control of my destiny, and my life, when I'm riding than when I'm sitting at home, or in front of a computer sending email. I certainly feel more alive then.

I hate that Marty died. I'm angry about it. Though I didn't know him 1/100th as well as Chris did, or as well as I know dozens of you, my life seems different now. I'm not sure why that is. I've thought about it every day since it happened.

But I know what I'm going to do now. In my own way, I'm going to try to be a better person. I'm going to try not to let life's obstacles get to me, I'm going to try to have a smile and a kind word for everyone. And when the party starts, I'm going to let loose a little more and have a little more fun.

I'm also going to go for a long ride this coming Sunday. Might even stop in Renton for an afternoon beverage at a little place I know. I'm sure Marty would approve...

--
H. Marc Lewis
http://www.micapeak.com/
http://www.FJR1300.info/

Date: Wed, 1 Oct 2003 18:01:53 -0700
From: Michael Pierce

It's taken me a few days to get my head around yet another loss to the motorcycling family I care so very much for.

I didn't know Marty. I regret that I never met him. I've read Chris' memorial and the memorial comments of all those who've posted their thoughts. It's too late now but, I wish I'd had a chance to get to know Marty. He obviously had an amazing affect on the lives of hundreds of people.

I'm so very saddened by this loss to the WetLeather family and I'm mad as hell that a terrific guy has been taken from us.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his wife, his children and to Chris.

Godspeed Marty, you've touched more people than you ever knew.

I'll ride from now on with you in mind.

Michael Pierce
Nashville

Date: Wed, 1 Oct 2003 21:54:49 -0700
From: Gooz

HMarc:
<snip>
>I had one of those "moments", kind of like a few incredibly clear seconds of
>Enlightenment, where I realized that, in spite of the constant danger, in
>spite of the occasional bad luck, I have no intention of giving up
>motorcycling.  Though I can, and sometimes do, worry about my safety, it all
>disappears when I get on the bike and up to speed.

i, like many of our WL brothers and sisters, had the sad task of going to say good-bye to Marty today. for those who did not get to go, it was held outdoors at Coulon Park a few blocks from the Capadona's on the shore of lake washington. the sun was warm and bright. the lake was beautiful with the sun sparkling on the waves and singing birds filled the trees.

music by Yes and VanMorrison bookended a memorial that was sad and somber as well as joyful and celebratory with a homily by the family's pastor and words of rememberance by family, friends and by Marty's brother in all but fact, Chris Denzler.

i'm here to witness that Chris' words were inspirational, respectful with a good measure of irreverence added in. and while he spoke from _his_ heart, i took pride and solace in how he represented.

among the speakers was a man whose name escapes me at this writing (forgive me!) but who though he was not a biker, not only acknowledged Marty's avocation and passion, he praised him for it. the sentiment was along the lines of: "it would be easy to say that Marty shouldn't have been riding and that that was why he was taken from us. and while Marty probably would not have chosen that as his means to pass on, he was doing what he loved as he had all of his life. he was living life to it's fullest."

the Wizard of Oz said, "the measure of a man is not how much he loves, but by how much he is loved by others"... today the pavillion was overflowing with Marty's loved ones, friends and neighbors.

it was a fine measure indeed.

respectfully submitted,

--
Ed Guzman, CB #4 -  DoD#1182 - TCA#86-23284 - AMA#598062
=><= =><= =><= In Memory of WMRRA# 48 =><= =><= =><=

Date: Fri, 3 Oct 2003 12:19:57 -0700
From: Peter Krogh

Well this just sucks.

I didn't know Marty very well, although I was always peripherally aware of him after I started racing in 1994. Actually, it would be hard to remain unaware of him and Chris after a few years of hanging out at SIR/PIR ("Jesus Christ, is that a jet those guys have over there?" "No, it's a rocket. Want a margarita?")

About three and a half years ago I left Seattle for San Francisco due to a massive change in marital status. I went to work for a very earnest, serious professional services firm where nobody had much by way of a sense of humor. Although they COULD code like madmen.

Several months after my move, one of the two founders decided that we needed a Seattle office, and who should he hire but Marty! When I first heard we were hiring a guy in Seattle named "Marty Capadona," I told the founder, "You're out of your fucking MIND. You don't want that guy." I seem to recall having to explain that that was HUMOR. ("Thank God," I thought. "Now we'll have someone I can engage in a little ball-breaking with. Although I hope he doesn't try to tempt me too hard with the internal combustion thing...")

I was not to be disappointed. Soon after Marty joined us, another employee, a woman named "Ritu," decided to leave due to pregnancy and sent her goodbye email from another employee's computer. The other employee, "Marc", had been fired the week earlier. Marty sent the email equivalent of a stuff pass on the inside of T-2 in Seattle. Cool! Doesn't make sense? Here's the thread (start at the bottom):

I'm sad the company didn't last long enough for us to become better friends. The Seattle guys got hit by the first round of layoffs, and the rest of us were gone a year later.

I will see you later, Marty,

/Peter Krogh
ex-WMRRA #39

----- Original Message -----
From: Marty Capadona
To: 
Cc: 
Sent: Friday, October 20, 2000 11:19 AM
Subject: RE: Thank you

Don't worry Peter - your turn will come.  It'll be refreshing to wear
those maternity clothes in public, eh?


----- Original Message -----
From: Peter Krogh 
To: 
Cc: 
Sent: Friday, October 20, 2000 11:19 AM
Subject: RE: Thank you

Marc,

This was such a bold step. For a man to carry a pregnancy to full term
is both miraculous and courageous. Especially when you can't even keep a
job.

Congratulations again,
Peter

-----Original Message-----
From: Marc Schaper
Sent: Friday, October 20, 2000 11:14 AM
To: all>
 Subject: Thank you

All... Thank you so much for the cake.   I also wanted to thank
everybody for
being so supportive during my pregnancy.  You guys have been great.  I
will be in touch, and please do not hesitate to contact me through email
or phone. Take care and keep in touch.
Fondly,
Ritu

Date: Mon, 6 Oct 2003 13:46:18 -0700
From: Chris Denzler 
Subject: Memorial ride for Marty

Thanks to all of you that showed up. Some I didn't know, and don't know how to pass on my thanks. Please pass this on.

We had cops and criminals, Christians and Pagans, Harleys, Ducatis, and rice. Yesterday none of that mattered.

The ride went awesome, people smiled and waved at us, some pulled over to let us pass them.

Thanks to you all, yesterday we created some Good News in a world too often filled with the bad.

The Giant's Causeway donated $300 of the profits to the Capadona family. They will be getting *my* business from now on.

Going through some paperwork, Lisa ran across a WMRRA medical form that Marty had filled out. We are required to carry one in our leathers while on the racetrack. Nothing remarkable about finding an extra med form lying around and it almost got tossed in the trash.

Under the section titled "List any surgeries you may have had", it said:

1989 - Left shoulder reconstruction
1991 - Sex change male -> female
1994 - Change back

That was Marty! :-)

          - Chris