| 2000 Race Reports |
August 13, 2000
Roselawn, Indiana
DNF
In a way, this enduro reminded me of White City last year. Problems from the start,
and then I got hurt. At Roselawn, the bike fired up on the first kick, then died after
about three seconds, and then refused to start. Naturally, this occurred ten minutes
before I was scheduled to start the race. A quick change of the spark plug produced
no better results, and fuel was reaching the carb, so I was stumped. The guys
parked next to me rode KTM's and offered another plug, and even installed it for me
while I continued cursing. My starting time came and went, and as I talked with the
guys helping me out, a dreadful thought came to my mind: Could I have forgotten to
remove the two paper towels stuffed into the intake side of the carb while the air filter
was being cleaned and oiled the day before? That would explain my problems, but
oh what a bonehead mistake that would be! I opened the airbox door, peeled back
the air filter, and holy sh#@, there were the two paper towels blocking all airflow into
the carb. By this time I was about 10 minutes late for the start, which put me out of
trophy contention before I traveled a foot down the trail.
So now I'm basically trail riding, figuring I'd catch up to Ryan Baker (the Bourbonnais
guy I rode with at this race in April) and his buddy Jeff (also from the Kankakee area)
somewhere down the trail (we all rode on the same minute). After the first 8-mile
section through the nudist woods there was a long break back at the setup area
before heading out on the road, and it was there I discovered my steering head was
loose. I pulled out of the staging area about 5 minutes late and made up 4 minutes
by the next check. As I passed through the check I could make out Ryan and Jeff
heading the opposite direction down a dirt road, which seemed strange, especially
after it took me about 10 more minutes to get to where they were at. I caught up to
them on a paved road section, told them my story, let them laugh at me for awhile,
and then asked them why they were so far ahead of me. Answer: they were 8
minutes early to the last check. In an enduro, early means very bad, and a little
quick-in-the-head math equals 37 dropped points right there!! Who's laughing now,
speedy?!? My airbox incident cost me about 20 points total (two checks before the
first reset), so I was still beating them. Now we were all trail riding.
I kept Ryan and Jeff on time (or at least not early) for the next few sections, but we
were all getting beat up from being some of the earliest riders to go through the trails.
At Roselawn, the club guys take machetes and hack a patch wide enough to walk
through, and that's your trail. Jeff was the fastest of our group, so he lead for awhile,
and then we traded off. Just before the gas stop, Ryan got hung up and I got around
him, but then at the gas stop we didn't see him and figured he had problems. Jeff
and I took off with me leading, and in the next section I smacked my arm against a
tree. I had to slow down and let Jeff by, and limped along in first gear for what
seemed like 5 miles before the next road section. After that I rode back to my truck
with a very sore, very swollen arm. I had it X-rayed back in St. Louis but it was not
broken. The DNF was disappointing, though.
August 27, 2000
Sedalia, Missouri
5th of 9 in Open B
These Missouri races tend to get repetitive after awhile. Always rocky, usually dry, and
definitely hot. Sedalia is about 3 hours from home, but at least Matt came along so
the ride didn't seem as long. Even though it was pouring rain when I left, Sedalia was
dry as a bone. Matt has a pop-up awning that is great for providing a shady place to
sit while waiting for the race to start. For the second time in a row, we parked next to a
guy named Lars who rides the 250 B class and drives an old Honda or Acura or
some little car with a trailer (and has a Colorado license plate). The practice lap was
not too bad, but I could tell the heat was going to be a problem. I forgot to put on my
elbow guards, so naturally I bumped my sore arm against a little twig of a tree, and it
was hurting again. At the starting line, I was lined up next to Pizza Man. I'm not sure
what his real first name is, but that's what he goes by. It's even listed that way on the
scoring system. He's a nice guy, owns a pizza joint called Shakespeare's Pizza
(hence the name, Pizza Man). He noticed that my chest protector wasn't fastened and
got me hooked up. Thanks, Pizza Man.
At the start, the regular fast guy in the Open B class, Cookie Monster, jumped into the
lead, followed by Matt, Pizza Man, me, and another guy. Cookie Monster leads in the
point standings, mostly because he's fast and goes to every race. His last name is
hard to spell and pronounce (kinda like mine), but it sort of sounds like Cookie
Monster, so that's what they call him. Maybe someday I'll race enough Missouri
events to get a nickname. Something easy to remember, like "That Guy Who
Crashes Alot."
Anyway, I settled in the dust and eventually worked my way past Pizza Man, and then
caught up to Matt after he got hung up on a log. Later on I crashed on my sore arm
and Pizza Man got around me again. That's about when I started running out of
energy. I hadn't worked out much since Roselawn, and on the last lap I was just
trying to finish. Towards the end, I could hear what sounded like Matt from behind, but
I figured there was no way he could have caught me. I'm in much better shape than
him, right? Wrong. Two hundred yards from the finish line he came roaring by me
and took 4th place by a couple of seconds. I learned a valuable lesson, but it still
pissed me off that I lost bragging rights. Our buddy Lars got second in the 250 B
class. Matt and I were both shut out of the trophies and went home, dead tired and
blowing out dust boogers the whole way.
Roselawn, Indiana
DNF
In a way, this enduro reminded me of White City last year. Problems from the start,
and then I got hurt. At Roselawn, the bike fired up on the first kick, then died after
about three seconds, and then refused to start. Naturally, this occurred ten minutes
before I was scheduled to start the race. A quick change of the spark plug produced
no better results, and fuel was reaching the carb, so I was stumped. The guys
parked next to me rode KTM's and offered another plug, and even installed it for me
while I continued cursing. My starting time came and went, and as I talked with the
guys helping me out, a dreadful thought came to my mind: Could I have forgotten to
remove the two paper towels stuffed into the intake side of the carb while the air filter
was being cleaned and oiled the day before? That would explain my problems, but
oh what a bonehead mistake that would be! I opened the airbox door, peeled back
the air filter, and holy sh#@, there were the two paper towels blocking all airflow into
the carb. By this time I was about 10 minutes late for the start, which put me out of
trophy contention before I traveled a foot down the trail.
So now I'm basically trail riding, figuring I'd catch up to Ryan Baker (the Bourbonnais
guy I rode with at this race in April) and his buddy Jeff (also from the Kankakee area)
somewhere down the trail (we all rode on the same minute). After the first 8-mile
section through the nudist woods there was a long break back at the setup area
before heading out on the road, and it was there I discovered my steering head was
loose. I pulled out of the staging area about 5 minutes late and made up 4 minutes
by the next check. As I passed through the check I could make out Ryan and Jeff
heading the opposite direction down a dirt road, which seemed strange, especially
after it took me about 10 more minutes to get to where they were at. I caught up to
them on a paved road section, told them my story, let them laugh at me for awhile,
and then asked them why they were so far ahead of me. Answer: they were 8
minutes early to the last check. In an enduro, early means very bad, and a little
quick-in-the-head math equals 37 dropped points right there!! Who's laughing now,
speedy?!? My airbox incident cost me about 20 points total (two checks before the
first reset), so I was still beating them. Now we were all trail riding.
I kept Ryan and Jeff on time (or at least not early) for the next few sections, but we
were all getting beat up from being some of the earliest riders to go through the trails.
At Roselawn, the club guys take machetes and hack a patch wide enough to walk
through, and that's your trail. Jeff was the fastest of our group, so he lead for awhile,
and then we traded off. Just before the gas stop, Ryan got hung up and I got around
him, but then at the gas stop we didn't see him and figured he had problems. Jeff
and I took off with me leading, and in the next section I smacked my arm against a
tree. I had to slow down and let Jeff by, and limped along in first gear for what
seemed like 5 miles before the next road section. After that I rode back to my truck
with a very sore, very swollen arm. I had it X-rayed back in St. Louis but it was not
broken. The DNF was disappointing, though.
August 27, 2000
Sedalia, Missouri
5th of 9 in Open B
These Missouri races tend to get repetitive after awhile. Always rocky, usually dry, and
definitely hot. Sedalia is about 3 hours from home, but at least Matt came along so
the ride didn't seem as long. Even though it was pouring rain when I left, Sedalia was
dry as a bone. Matt has a pop-up awning that is great for providing a shady place to
sit while waiting for the race to start. For the second time in a row, we parked next to a
guy named Lars who rides the 250 B class and drives an old Honda or Acura or
some little car with a trailer (and has a Colorado license plate). The practice lap was
not too bad, but I could tell the heat was going to be a problem. I forgot to put on my
elbow guards, so naturally I bumped my sore arm against a little twig of a tree, and it
was hurting again. At the starting line, I was lined up next to Pizza Man. I'm not sure
what his real first name is, but that's what he goes by. It's even listed that way on the
scoring system. He's a nice guy, owns a pizza joint called Shakespeare's Pizza
(hence the name, Pizza Man). He noticed that my chest protector wasn't fastened and
got me hooked up. Thanks, Pizza Man.
At the start, the regular fast guy in the Open B class, Cookie Monster, jumped into the
lead, followed by Matt, Pizza Man, me, and another guy. Cookie Monster leads in the
point standings, mostly because he's fast and goes to every race. His last name is
hard to spell and pronounce (kinda like mine), but it sort of sounds like Cookie
Monster, so that's what they call him. Maybe someday I'll race enough Missouri
events to get a nickname. Something easy to remember, like "That Guy Who
Crashes Alot."
Anyway, I settled in the dust and eventually worked my way past Pizza Man, and then
caught up to Matt after he got hung up on a log. Later on I crashed on my sore arm
and Pizza Man got around me again. That's about when I started running out of
energy. I hadn't worked out much since Roselawn, and on the last lap I was just
trying to finish. Towards the end, I could hear what sounded like Matt from behind, but
I figured there was no way he could have caught me. I'm in much better shape than
him, right? Wrong. Two hundred yards from the finish line he came roaring by me
and took 4th place by a couple of seconds. I learned a valuable lesson, but it still
pissed me off that I lost bragging rights. Our buddy Lars got second in the 250 B
class. Matt and I were both shut out of the trophies and went home, dead tired and
blowing out dust boogers the whole way.
Roselawn, Indiana
Sedalia, Missouri
Sedalia, Missouri
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