| 2001 Race Reports |
 |  |  |
June 10, 2001
Crab Orchard, Illinois
DNF
The Little Egypt guys really know how to put on a race. Lay out one of the longest
loops an Illinois hare scramble has ever seen, and make it tight. Add a few sections
of grass track, keep the rain away, and you've got an incredible course.
But to enjoy all that the course has to offer, you have to ride smart. I made a silly
mistake that ended my day early and set me back a few bucks, but I'll get to that later.
Before the race I walked a small portion of the 12-mile course and got back to the
staging area just in time to see the emergency helicopter land in a grassy area
smack in the center of 200 or so parked cars and trucks. They don't land those things
in real life the way they do in Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. This one came in low
and slow and right over about 10 pop-up canopies, which are not exactly designed for
the 100 mph winds kicked up by a 30-foot propeller.
Only three bikes raced in the Open B class, and at the start the other two guys
jumped out ahead and I never saw them again. Was I really that slow? The results
would later show that the class winner placed 9th overall, out of 130 bikes. So a Pro
rider decided to race the Open B class...bet that was a satisfying victory, friggin'
sandbagger. The first lap was fairly uneventful as I tried to remember how to ride in
tight woods. Crab Orchard is an old strip mine, so there are some steep ridges,
often in series, that we climbed and descended over and over again. With 12 miles
of tight woods, lap times were fairly long. I completed my first lap in about 40 minutes
and was halfway into the second lap when I slowed down for a gully, applied the front
brake as the front wheel dipped into the gully at an angle. The wheel came to a quick
stop at the bottom of the gully, causing the motorcycle and I to do an Olympic-style
somersault (judges score: 2.35 with no style points). As the back end of the bike
began its "death flip" I had visions of White City in 1999. Only this time it was all in
slow motion. While lying on my back in the bottom of the gully, I had time to give the
back end of the bike a swift kick that deflected it away from my rib cage. Bodily harm
averted...the gods were smiling down on me. I picked up the bike and began to start
the engine, but the brake lever assembly had rotated down around the handlebars.
As I smacked it back up into position, I saw that the clamp holding the brake
assembly to the bars was missing. The brake assembly was still attached to the
bars (barely), but the lever was pretty much useless. I finished my lap with no front
brake, riding a nice C-class pace. At the scoring tent, the white flag was out and I
actually considered finishing the race, but then decided not to risk getting hurt on
some of the steep downhills.
Back at the truck, I discovered that the throttle housing had also broken during my 2
mph crash. I called it a day, drove home and searched for motorcycle parts on the
internet.
June 24, 2001
Marshfield, Missouri
3rd of 11 in Open B Class
The KaTooMer bike maintenance (or lack thereof) program struck again. On
Saturday, after spending an unbelievable amount of time tweaking the brake lever
clamp and new throttle to fit properly, I discovered during a tire change that my rear
wheel bearings were failing badly. Naturally I had no 6005 bearings in my extensive
inventory of useless bike parts, so I figured what the hell, I could get one last race on
the bad bearings and then replace them. When I arrived at Matt's place at about 7:00
a.m., he took a half-second look at the wobbly wheel and described the disastrous
consequences of riding on bad bearings. So rather than risk destroying my
fancy-dancy Talon hub, we pulled out the old bearings and put in Matt's two spares.
One minor problem, though: the Talon hub uses three bearings. I carefully evaluated
the alternatives, which consisted of: a) put in two new bearings and leave in a crappy
one; and b) ride on bad bearings and buy a new $250 hub. Took me about half a
second to figure that one out, and 30 minutes later we were ready to go.
So I had already been a pain in Matt's ass first thing in the morning, but that would
only increase as the day went on. The drive to Marshfield is long, but I figured we
would shave some time by cutting off 15 or 20 miles on 2-lane roads to the race site.
O.K., so the map sucked. We got there, alright? Too late to do a practice lap, but hey,
how much does practice really help anyway? At least the line for signup was short.
The word from the riders who did the practice lap was that the course was very tight, a
bit damp, and full of logs. Perfect. Off the start I was about 5th and quickly moved into
4th, with Matt somewhere behind. I followed the guy in front of me for several miles
before he bobbled and I got around. After that, I didn't have much company for the
next couple of laps, except for an occasional pass by a faster B rider in one of the
classes behind me. The first few miles of the course were extremely tight and
muddy, actually rivaling the Roselawn enduro. Many of the logs were a foot or more
in diameter and at an angle to the trail. On the second lap I came around a corner
and saw one of those logs too late and did a nice get-off. Somewhere in that lap,
some tree branches grabbed at my goggles hard enough to rip out my brand new
roll-off's, leaving a long streamer trail of roll-off tape. I finally took off the goggles on
the third lap.
I never did see the lead guys in the Pro class pass me, which usually happens about
2/3 of the way into the race. I did see an unfortunate rider in the women's class drop
her bike down a ravine. With the exception of my single crash, I rode fairly well and
completed 4 laps. Matt did three laps and already had his bike loaded up before I got
back to the truck. He wanted to go home right away but I made him wait until the
results were posted. With my third place finish, I earned a trophy and made him wait
another half-hour through the protest period, then made him wait some more while
the trophies were distributed. Man, was I ever a pain in the ass.
Crab Orchard, Illinois
DNF
The Little Egypt guys really know how to put on a race. Lay out one of the longest
loops an Illinois hare scramble has ever seen, and make it tight. Add a few sections
of grass track, keep the rain away, and you've got an incredible course.
But to enjoy all that the course has to offer, you have to ride smart. I made a silly
mistake that ended my day early and set me back a few bucks, but I'll get to that later.
Before the race I walked a small portion of the 12-mile course and got back to the
staging area just in time to see the emergency helicopter land in a grassy area
smack in the center of 200 or so parked cars and trucks. They don't land those things
in real life the way they do in Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. This one came in low
and slow and right over about 10 pop-up canopies, which are not exactly designed for
the 100 mph winds kicked up by a 30-foot propeller.
Only three bikes raced in the Open B class, and at the start the other two guys
jumped out ahead and I never saw them again. Was I really that slow? The results
would later show that the class winner placed 9th overall, out of 130 bikes. So a Pro
rider decided to race the Open B class...bet that was a satisfying victory, friggin'
sandbagger. The first lap was fairly uneventful as I tried to remember how to ride in
tight woods. Crab Orchard is an old strip mine, so there are some steep ridges,
often in series, that we climbed and descended over and over again. With 12 miles
of tight woods, lap times were fairly long. I completed my first lap in about 40 minutes
and was halfway into the second lap when I slowed down for a gully, applied the front
brake as the front wheel dipped into the gully at an angle. The wheel came to a quick
stop at the bottom of the gully, causing the motorcycle and I to do an Olympic-style
somersault (judges score: 2.35 with no style points). As the back end of the bike
began its "death flip" I had visions of White City in 1999. Only this time it was all in
slow motion. While lying on my back in the bottom of the gully, I had time to give the
back end of the bike a swift kick that deflected it away from my rib cage. Bodily harm
averted...the gods were smiling down on me. I picked up the bike and began to start
the engine, but the brake lever assembly had rotated down around the handlebars.
As I smacked it back up into position, I saw that the clamp holding the brake
assembly to the bars was missing. The brake assembly was still attached to the
bars (barely), but the lever was pretty much useless. I finished my lap with no front
brake, riding a nice C-class pace. At the scoring tent, the white flag was out and I
actually considered finishing the race, but then decided not to risk getting hurt on
some of the steep downhills.
Back at the truck, I discovered that the throttle housing had also broken during my 2
mph crash. I called it a day, drove home and searched for motorcycle parts on the
internet.
June 24, 2001
Marshfield, Missouri
3rd of 11 in Open B Class
The KaTooMer bike maintenance (or lack thereof) program struck again. On
Saturday, after spending an unbelievable amount of time tweaking the brake lever
clamp and new throttle to fit properly, I discovered during a tire change that my rear
wheel bearings were failing badly. Naturally I had no 6005 bearings in my extensive
inventory of useless bike parts, so I figured what the hell, I could get one last race on
the bad bearings and then replace them. When I arrived at Matt's place at about 7:00
a.m., he took a half-second look at the wobbly wheel and described the disastrous
consequences of riding on bad bearings. So rather than risk destroying my
fancy-dancy Talon hub, we pulled out the old bearings and put in Matt's two spares.
One minor problem, though: the Talon hub uses three bearings. I carefully evaluated
the alternatives, which consisted of: a) put in two new bearings and leave in a crappy
one; and b) ride on bad bearings and buy a new $250 hub. Took me about half a
second to figure that one out, and 30 minutes later we were ready to go.
So I had already been a pain in Matt's ass first thing in the morning, but that would
only increase as the day went on. The drive to Marshfield is long, but I figured we
would shave some time by cutting off 15 or 20 miles on 2-lane roads to the race site.
O.K., so the map sucked. We got there, alright? Too late to do a practice lap, but hey,
how much does practice really help anyway? At least the line for signup was short.
The word from the riders who did the practice lap was that the course was very tight, a
bit damp, and full of logs. Perfect. Off the start I was about 5th and quickly moved into
4th, with Matt somewhere behind. I followed the guy in front of me for several miles
before he bobbled and I got around. After that, I didn't have much company for the
next couple of laps, except for an occasional pass by a faster B rider in one of the
classes behind me. The first few miles of the course were extremely tight and
muddy, actually rivaling the Roselawn enduro. Many of the logs were a foot or more
in diameter and at an angle to the trail. On the second lap I came around a corner
and saw one of those logs too late and did a nice get-off. Somewhere in that lap,
some tree branches grabbed at my goggles hard enough to rip out my brand new
roll-off's, leaving a long streamer trail of roll-off tape. I finally took off the goggles on
the third lap.
I never did see the lead guys in the Pro class pass me, which usually happens about
2/3 of the way into the race. I did see an unfortunate rider in the women's class drop
her bike down a ravine. With the exception of my single crash, I rode fairly well and
completed 4 laps. Matt did three laps and already had his bike loaded up before I got
back to the truck. He wanted to go home right away but I made him wait until the
results were posted. With my third place finish, I earned a trophy and made him wait
another half-hour through the protest period, then made him wait some more while
the trophies were distributed. Man, was I ever a pain in the ass.
Crab Orchard, Illinois
Marshfield, Missouri
Marshfield, Missouri