Life Begins at 200 (mph)
By Matt Calkins of The Press-Enterprise - Apr 7, 2010

It was just a year and a half ago that Connie Beavers was airlifted to a hospital after breaking 12 ribs and puncturing a lung in a motorcycle crash at El Mirage dry lake bed in the Mojave desert.

And it was just under two years ago that her boyfriend, Nick Nicolaides, broke both wrists and his right ankle racing against Connie at Irwindale Speedway.

But after dusting themselves off, the couple took a schlep down to the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah last August, where Connie set a land speed record on her 1350cc Suzuki going more than 209 mph and Nick, though not a record for the type of bike he was on, managed to top 220.  

(Photo above:  Riverside's Connie Beavers, 70, and 80-year-old Nick Nicolaides (right), test the speed of their motorcycles. She set a land speed record in August)

She said setting the mark provided the biggest high of her life. He said he'd like to get up to 300 mph one day.

She's 70 years old. He's 80.

Neither of them plays bridge.

"I think everyone should get into something that inspires them to stay active," Nicolaides said. "It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's satisfying and gives them a little high."

Connie and Nick would be considered "cool" if they were doing this at 25. But to be able to rocket down a salt flat at more than one-quarter the speed of sound and still collect social security? That's borderline hypothermic.

The pair spends about four to five hours each day fine-tuning their bikes, and when they do step outside of the garage, can be found "testing" the machines up and down their street at night or perhaps disco dancing like they did last New Year's.

They even have a Nintendo Wii.

What's that saying again? Oh yeah -- life begins at 70.

"Well, at least it's not over with at 70," Nicolaides said.

Nick, who's originally from the San Fernando Valley, has three kids and has been married twice. Connie, a Los Angeles native, has six kids and lost her husband of 29 years to cancer in 1998.

She began running a small carbon fiberglass composite shop following his death and met Nick when she needed some machine work done about seven and a half years ago.

They hit it off and moved in together four months later.

What? You expected these two to take it slow?

"We'd both pretty much been around the block," said Connie, who's hung a picture of her great grandchild just a few feet from the land-speed-record certificate. "Though a couple of my kids did say 'Mom, he's a lot older than you. You can't move in with him so fast.' "

It was a little weird for Chris Nicolaides to hear about his old man, er, really old man getting his kicks kick-starting a motorcycle and flying down drag strips and salt flats. Especially considering how quiet Nick had been about his racing past with his children growing up.

It wasn't until Chris was in junior high that he found out his dad used to compete at an array of Southern California tracks before eventually traveling to Europe and frequenting racing venues in England and Ireland.

"Then I got married," said Nick, who has brought along Chris to be his crew chief. "And I kind of took a 50-year break."

The break ended when Nick told Connie about his passion for racing and she responded by buying him a gift certificate for road racing lessons the next Christmas. Not too much time passed before she wanted to try it herself.

One of Connie's daughters, Tami Castillo, is married to a motorcycle rider. And even he thinks Nick and Connie are nuts.

True, Connie used to buy a new car every year when she was younger -- once getting a ticket for going 125 mph on a cross-country road trip and another time splitting a Jaguar in two when a telephone pole got in its way. But growing up, the only thing her children ever saw her leave in the dust was a piece of furniture or two.

"You're seeing this thing come out of a parent that you never thought they had," Castillo said. "And you never want to think about something bad happening and pretty soon, you really want to cheer with them."

To set a record in Bonneville, a rider must make two runs (the records need to be backed up) and in Connie's case, it took more than three miles before the desired speed was finally reached. When she backed it up the next day, she said she fell to her knees and thanked God.

Last Thursday, in a garage where model WWII war planes that Connie made are hanging, the couple showed off the early workings of a streamliner they hope to get up to 350 mph one day.

"There's no reason we can't do it," Nick said.

Of course, this may take a little time. But they've got their whole lives in front of them.