| 1999 Race Reports |
 |  |  |
March 14, 1999
Cuba, Illinois
5th of 10 in Big B class
This was the first race on the schedule for 1999 and I was anxious to try out my new
KTM 300EXC under race conditions. It's a long drive up to Cuba; over 3 hours
northwest of St. Louis. I went with my riding buddy, Matt Sellers, who I had met
earlier in the year at St. Joe State Park in Missouri. He rides the same kind of bike,
only it's a few years older. As we drove north, we started noticing some snow on the
ground. Not a good sign. If we had been smart, we would have turned the truck
around right then. Cuba was a cool 40 degrees and windy, so standing around
before the race was uncomfortable at best. The setup area was in the middle of an
open field with no shelter at all. Matt and I looked over the starting area and walked a
short way down the trail, and shivered back to the truck. There appeared to be a little
traction, but after the race I wound have to say the key words here were little (as in
none) and there (as in somewhere other than where I am currently spinning my back
tire). In some places the ground was still frozen. Back in '96 I raced several times on
frozen ground and it was pure torture. Guys end up pushing, pulling, dragging,
tugging, kicking, and especially cursing their bikes up all but the smallest hills.
When the race started, I found out just how lousy my stock Bridgestone tires were in
the slick stuff. The front end just went wherever it felt like, and the rear spun way too
much. Of course, no tire would have helped me get through all that snot with ease,
but the Bridgestone's were designed for hard-packed terrain. Bad, bad tires! A
couple of the hills were barely passable in the first few laps, and downright
impossible near the end. Fortunately the race was shortened to 1.5 hours (they're
usually 2 hrs.), which was still about an hour too long. I pretty sure that I pushed the
bike at least as much as I rode it. The course itself was only a couple miles long but
it took forever to get around. On the last lap, I was tired and just didn't have the energy
to push the bike up one of the last hills. I took a slight shortcut, which is a no-no, but
then I spent about 15 minutes struggling up another hill on an "alternate route" (i.e.
waaaay off the marked course). O.K., I flat-out cheated. But cheating can always be
justified when you feel like you're breathing the last air of your life, so I blamed it on
the sadistic promoters who should have cancelled the darned race to begin with.
While I pushed the bike up the last hill, it seemed to be overheating, which tends to
happen when you're averaging 5mph in the woods and the engine is revving to the
moon. I finished my lap, saw the checkered flag, and then collapsed at the truck. Matt
was already there, ready to go home. I'm sure he wished he hadn't come. Our bikes
were a solid shade of black Illinois mud. We stuck around to see the results, and my
5th place was good enough for a trophy. I didn't deserve it because I cut the course,
but sure as hell earned it. Matt finished in the middle of the C class. It was a long
ride home.
Damage report: Big gash in the seat cover from dragging the bike down a hill for a
second attempt at conquering.
March 21, 1999
Belleville, Illinois
7th of 12 in Open B
This day turned out to be a great day for racing. I had never seen such a huge turnout
for this type of event. I walked the course beforehand with a guy named Jeff Smith,
who was parked next to me. Later on throughout the year I would run into Jeff at
various races. The club grounds where the race was held is an old strip mine, so
there were lots of short, steep hills. My friends Curtis and Resmi, along with their
friend Sue from Indianapolis and Curtis' brother Mark came out to watch. Matt raced
the C class (novice), but because of the large number of riders, they ran the C class
and Trailriders (beginners) in a separate race after ours was done. I had a decent
start but got hung up in a bottleneck on the first lap. After that, I rode a good race for
awhile. The tight woods suit my riding style, so I was riding well and feeling good. At
one point I took a shortcut up a hill and cut off a faster rider and he started yelling at
me. Apparently Curtis and company were nearby and saw the whole thing, but I didn't
notice them, and barely remembered the guy yelling at me until they reminded me of
it. When I'm racing I tend to tune out most of the noise except that of the engine, the
smack of my body hitting trees, and of course the voices in my head telling me to
ignore the pain and get my slow ass moving faster. Resmi took some pictures of me
racing and gave them to me later. So far those are the only photos I have of my racing
exploits.
In the last half-hour of the race, I suddenly found myself on the ground feeling woozy
and with a headache, not knowing or remembering why I was lying next to the trail
with my bike on its side several yards away. Apparently I crashed going down a steep
hill and hit my head pretty hard, knocking myself out. For a minute or two I couldn't
see straight, but then my senses kicked in and I realized that I couldn't see right
because one of my contact lenses was gone. Some club members eventually found
me and helped get me on my feet and off the trail. One of the guys drove me in his
jeep back to the ambulance, where the EMT's checked me out and suggested I go to
a hospital (I didn't). I figured as long as I could remember my name and still walk, I
probably wasn't hurt too bad. Curtis and the gang were amazed at my story and
appearance afterwards. My face was scratched up, my right eye was turning black
and blue, my tongue was bloody from where I bit off a chunk of it, and my elbow was
so sore that I couldn't push the bike up the ramp and into the truck. They all still talk
about how much fun they had watching the race that day. Even with the crash I
finished mid-pack but probably could have finished in the top 5 if I had completed the
race. Check out these pictures.
Damage Report: Bent handlebars and triple clamps; helmet cracked (it did its
job...rest in peace, old friend).
April 11, 1999
Steelville, MO
13th of 24 in Open B
Another great day for racing...perfect weather and trail conditions. Matt and I both
raced the Open B class, so I figured it would be a good test to see how close our
riding skills really were. We had ridden a few times down at St. Joe State Park, and
he seemed to be very close to my speed, but possibly just a bit faster in the rocks.
This race was the first in the Missouri Hare Scrambles Series, and the turnout was
large. Way bigger than any of the D-17 (Illinois) hare scrambles I ever raced. On the
pre-run (almost every Missouri race allows riders to take a practice lap before the
race begins) I noticed some play in the steering head, apparently because I didn't get
it tightened down enough when I replaced the triple clamps after the Belleville
debacle. After a quick adjustment I was ready to go.
The start of the race was almost a disaster when a rider on my right side somehow
got hooked up on me. I'm not sure how he did it because he was just out of my sight,
but I think our handlebars got tangled. His bike kept pulling me to the right, and then
suddenly we got separated. I glanced behind me, and I'll never forget the vision of the
poor guy's motorcycle doing cartwheels. That easily could have been me. Needless
to say his day was done, and I hope he didn't get hurt too badly. Those starts can be
tricky when 25 guys are all gunning for the same corner. I caught up to Matt after a
minute or two and then passed him while he slowed down and pulled to the side for
some reason. The rest of the race was fairly uneventful...just a typical rocky Missouri
race. There was a tricky off-camber section (basically riding parallel to the contour of
a hill) in a place with a natural spring making it wet and slippery. In another place the
promoter strategically routed the trail through a manure pile...nice touch. The laps
were about 12 miles long, so I was able to do three in 2 hours, and was about 90
seconds short of getting in a fourth lap. In a hare scramble, you get to keep doing
laps until the time expires, so if I had been 90 seconds faster then I would have
completed 4 laps (and probably run out of gas near the end). The Missouri series
uses an electronic scoring system. It's pretty cool...they stick a bar code to your
helmet and scan it as you stop at the main gate. The race results are put on the
Internet, so I was able to see all the lap times. Pretty slick.
Matt ended up having a problem with his front fender. All the bolts fell out, so it was
just flopping around, which is why he was slowing down as I passed him. He went
back to his truck to fix it and lost a lot of time, but still got in three laps. When I got
home, I was very disappointed to see the rear brake rotor totally warped beyond
repair. A rock must have wedged its way between the rotor and the spokes. My
disappointment turned to disgust after taking off the rotor and finding a piece of the
hub broken off. Many $$'s....
Damage Report: Bent rear brake rotor and cracked rear hub.
Cuba, Illinois
5th of 10 in Big B class
This was the first race on the schedule for 1999 and I was anxious to try out my new
KTM 300EXC under race conditions. It's a long drive up to Cuba; over 3 hours
northwest of St. Louis. I went with my riding buddy, Matt Sellers, who I had met
earlier in the year at St. Joe State Park in Missouri. He rides the same kind of bike,
only it's a few years older. As we drove north, we started noticing some snow on the
ground. Not a good sign. If we had been smart, we would have turned the truck
around right then. Cuba was a cool 40 degrees and windy, so standing around
before the race was uncomfortable at best. The setup area was in the middle of an
open field with no shelter at all. Matt and I looked over the starting area and walked a
short way down the trail, and shivered back to the truck. There appeared to be a little
traction, but after the race I wound have to say the key words here were little (as in
none) and there (as in somewhere other than where I am currently spinning my back
tire). In some places the ground was still frozen. Back in '96 I raced several times on
frozen ground and it was pure torture. Guys end up pushing, pulling, dragging,
tugging, kicking, and especially cursing their bikes up all but the smallest hills.
When the race started, I found out just how lousy my stock Bridgestone tires were in
the slick stuff. The front end just went wherever it felt like, and the rear spun way too
much. Of course, no tire would have helped me get through all that snot with ease,
but the Bridgestone's were designed for hard-packed terrain. Bad, bad tires! A
couple of the hills were barely passable in the first few laps, and downright
impossible near the end. Fortunately the race was shortened to 1.5 hours (they're
usually 2 hrs.), which was still about an hour too long. I pretty sure that I pushed the
bike at least as much as I rode it. The course itself was only a couple miles long but
it took forever to get around. On the last lap, I was tired and just didn't have the energy
to push the bike up one of the last hills. I took a slight shortcut, which is a no-no, but
then I spent about 15 minutes struggling up another hill on an "alternate route" (i.e.
waaaay off the marked course). O.K., I flat-out cheated. But cheating can always be
justified when you feel like you're breathing the last air of your life, so I blamed it on
the sadistic promoters who should have cancelled the darned race to begin with.
While I pushed the bike up the last hill, it seemed to be overheating, which tends to
happen when you're averaging 5mph in the woods and the engine is revving to the
moon. I finished my lap, saw the checkered flag, and then collapsed at the truck. Matt
was already there, ready to go home. I'm sure he wished he hadn't come. Our bikes
were a solid shade of black Illinois mud. We stuck around to see the results, and my
5th place was good enough for a trophy. I didn't deserve it because I cut the course,
but sure as hell earned it. Matt finished in the middle of the C class. It was a long
ride home.
Damage report: Big gash in the seat cover from dragging the bike down a hill for a
second attempt at conquering.
March 21, 1999
Belleville, Illinois
7th of 12 in Open B
This day turned out to be a great day for racing. I had never seen such a huge turnout
for this type of event. I walked the course beforehand with a guy named Jeff Smith,
who was parked next to me. Later on throughout the year I would run into Jeff at
various races. The club grounds where the race was held is an old strip mine, so
there were lots of short, steep hills. My friends Curtis and Resmi, along with their
friend Sue from Indianapolis and Curtis' brother Mark came out to watch. Matt raced
the C class (novice), but because of the large number of riders, they ran the C class
and Trailriders (beginners) in a separate race after ours was done. I had a decent
start but got hung up in a bottleneck on the first lap. After that, I rode a good race for
awhile. The tight woods suit my riding style, so I was riding well and feeling good. At
one point I took a shortcut up a hill and cut off a faster rider and he started yelling at
me. Apparently Curtis and company were nearby and saw the whole thing, but I didn't
notice them, and barely remembered the guy yelling at me until they reminded me of
it. When I'm racing I tend to tune out most of the noise except that of the engine, the
smack of my body hitting trees, and of course the voices in my head telling me to
ignore the pain and get my slow ass moving faster. Resmi took some pictures of me
racing and gave them to me later. So far those are the only photos I have of my racing
exploits.
In the last half-hour of the race, I suddenly found myself on the ground feeling woozy
and with a headache, not knowing or remembering why I was lying next to the trail
with my bike on its side several yards away. Apparently I crashed going down a steep
hill and hit my head pretty hard, knocking myself out. For a minute or two I couldn't
see straight, but then my senses kicked in and I realized that I couldn't see right
because one of my contact lenses was gone. Some club members eventually found
me and helped get me on my feet and off the trail. One of the guys drove me in his
jeep back to the ambulance, where the EMT's checked me out and suggested I go to
a hospital (I didn't). I figured as long as I could remember my name and still walk, I
probably wasn't hurt too bad. Curtis and the gang were amazed at my story and
appearance afterwards. My face was scratched up, my right eye was turning black
and blue, my tongue was bloody from where I bit off a chunk of it, and my elbow was
so sore that I couldn't push the bike up the ramp and into the truck. They all still talk
about how much fun they had watching the race that day. Even with the crash I
finished mid-pack but probably could have finished in the top 5 if I had completed the
race. Check out these pictures.
Damage Report: Bent handlebars and triple clamps; helmet cracked (it did its
job...rest in peace, old friend).
April 11, 1999
Steelville, MO
13th of 24 in Open B
Another great day for racing...perfect weather and trail conditions. Matt and I both
raced the Open B class, so I figured it would be a good test to see how close our
riding skills really were. We had ridden a few times down at St. Joe State Park, and
he seemed to be very close to my speed, but possibly just a bit faster in the rocks.
This race was the first in the Missouri Hare Scrambles Series, and the turnout was
large. Way bigger than any of the D-17 (Illinois) hare scrambles I ever raced. On the
pre-run (almost every Missouri race allows riders to take a practice lap before the
race begins) I noticed some play in the steering head, apparently because I didn't get
it tightened down enough when I replaced the triple clamps after the Belleville
debacle. After a quick adjustment I was ready to go.
The start of the race was almost a disaster when a rider on my right side somehow
got hooked up on me. I'm not sure how he did it because he was just out of my sight,
but I think our handlebars got tangled. His bike kept pulling me to the right, and then
suddenly we got separated. I glanced behind me, and I'll never forget the vision of the
poor guy's motorcycle doing cartwheels. That easily could have been me. Needless
to say his day was done, and I hope he didn't get hurt too badly. Those starts can be
tricky when 25 guys are all gunning for the same corner. I caught up to Matt after a
minute or two and then passed him while he slowed down and pulled to the side for
some reason. The rest of the race was fairly uneventful...just a typical rocky Missouri
race. There was a tricky off-camber section (basically riding parallel to the contour of
a hill) in a place with a natural spring making it wet and slippery. In another place the
promoter strategically routed the trail through a manure pile...nice touch. The laps
were about 12 miles long, so I was able to do three in 2 hours, and was about 90
seconds short of getting in a fourth lap. In a hare scramble, you get to keep doing
laps until the time expires, so if I had been 90 seconds faster then I would have
completed 4 laps (and probably run out of gas near the end). The Missouri series
uses an electronic scoring system. It's pretty cool...they stick a bar code to your
helmet and scan it as you stop at the main gate. The race results are put on the
Internet, so I was able to see all the lap times. Pretty slick.
Matt ended up having a problem with his front fender. All the bolts fell out, so it was
just flopping around, which is why he was slowing down as I passed him. He went
back to his truck to fix it and lost a lot of time, but still got in three laps. When I got
home, I was very disappointed to see the rear brake rotor totally warped beyond
repair. A rock must have wedged its way between the rotor and the spokes. My
disappointment turned to disgust after taking off the rotor and finding a piece of the
hub broken off. Many $$'s....
Damage Report: Bent rear brake rotor and cracked rear hub.
Cuba, Illinois
Belleville, Illinois
Steelville, Missouri
Belleville, Illinois
Steelville, Missouri
