| 2002 Race Reports |
March 24, 2002
Finger Lakes State Park
Columbia, Missouri
2nd of 14 in Open B (18th overall)
Finger Lakes in March is pretty predictable: mud, and lots of it. But after a warm,
sunny Saturday spent outside digging what my neighbors would later describe as "a
moat thingie" around the house (actually, was installing underground drainage for my
gutter downspouts, whatever...homeowner stuff), I was cautiously optimistic about trail
conditions. All optimism failed on the drive to Columbia. Over the phone, Matt
wussed out on me (again) but I stopped by his place anyway for a quick weather
update. The internet meteorologist said wet and cold. Not good.
Just north of Columbia, weather predictions came true as a steady mist followed me
into the park and stayed for the whole race. At the entrance to the staging area, I
overheard the club guys mention something about an ATV racer with a broken leg,
confirmed later by Pizza Man who greeted me while in the midst of working the race.
He said the trail conditions had been pretty good until I got there, and I should expect
some slick, nasty hills. After signing up, I walked a bit of the course and was shocked
to see evidence of dirt (more like clay) that appeared semi-dry in areas where the sun
had reached the ground. But the mist continued and within a half-hour everything was
damp. By that time the ATV's were finishing their race and I stopped to watch some
tired, mud-coated 4-wheelers and riders cross a creek. One guy on a Honda 250R
blew out his entire silencer core just after the crossing, and it landed in the mud,
smoking, while the ATV continued on with a noise level approaching that of Lambert
Field at 8:00 a.m. on a weekday. Nice guy that I am, I picked it up and carried it with
cold fingers back to the staging area, where by miraculous luck I happened to walk
right past the guy and handed him his silencer core. As I would later discover during
the race, I needed every ounce of positive karma that came from that good deed.
I decided to warm up with a practice lap and found the course to be challenging but
very doable, with only a few potential bottleneck sections but no bottomless mud.
Afterwards, I discovered that the bolts to the left radiator had fallen out and it was only
being held on by the plastic shrouds. Since I had left in the morning thinking Matt
would be coming along, I didn't pack any spare parts but improvised with the old
standby: safety wire and duct tape. On the starting line, I repeated the previous week's
3-kick performance and began dead last on the motocross track. Again, a temporary
tear-off kept my vision in decent shape and I passed a few guys on the track before
heading into the woods. The first lap showed a few signs of riders having difficulty
with the course, but I rode well and moved toward the front of our class.
At the beginning of the second lap, the course was decomposing into a snot-slick rut,
and I managed to slide out just after the scoring trailer. The right handlebar dragged
in the slop just enough to jam a bunch of mud between the end of the throttle tube and
the handguard, so there was basically no return-spring action - hold it open and it
stayed open. Just before the MX track I attempted one of my classic "shortcuts" to get
around a couple guys and ended up headed straight for a tree. It was one of those
instances where there was a split second to realize there was no saving the bike and
to prepare for much pain. I smacked the tree head on but bailed ever so gracefully,
tuck-and-roll scoring 9.7 out of 10 (point deductions for artistic interpretation and use
of the F-word multiple times). I got up just in time to get passed by the guy in my class
with "Davey" painted on the back of his helmet. Kind of cool, but I prefer to avoid any
distinguishing attributes so that maybe the guy drafting behind me thinks I'm in
another class and doesn't try too hard to get around. That's why I wear an all-black
helmet and apply lots of duct tape on my bike, because it really helps me blend in.
Still on lap 2, at the exit of the MX track was a short, steep uphill leading to a
30-foot-long plateau, and then an abrupt 40-foot drop-off down to an open area. This
is where I attempted to entertain the fans, who were braving the cold wind, steady
mist, and mud to watch us climb the short hill and skate down the long hill. I flew up
the hill in third gear, caught some air at the plateau, heard a "Whoa, boy!" from one of
the spectators and had just enough time left to scrub some speed before sliding
down the other side. Still in third gear at the bottom of the hill, I kept the throttle pinned
and attempted to bunny-hop a narrow gully in the middle of the open area. The front
wheel cleared easily, but the spot where I crossed the gully was a bit deeper than I
expected. The back wheel dropped down, smacked the opposite side of the gully and
the rebound catapulted my ass high into the air. So high, in fact, that I performed a
half-handstand on the handlebars and my face was almost within kissing distance of
the front fender, all while traveling at about 30mph. To the fans, this stunt may have
resembled Carey Hart's Kiss of Death, except the bike was horizontal and wheels
firmly planted to the ground. I was fully prepared for pain, but somehow the bike
stayed under me and I continued riding. From now on, I'll leave these tricks to
Pastrana.
I caught back up to Davey and passed him for good, but on the third lap the hills were
in really bad shape. The toughest climb, by virtue of length alone, began with a
deteriorating creek crossing and a well-greased, rocky hill that the ATV's had
completely destroyed. The hot line from the first lap was getting slicker with every
bike, but I was able to use enough momentum to scale the hill each time. Alternate
routes were developing around many of the hills, and they all got harder as the race
wore on. The worst was a climb that was spaced between a couple of lakes, with only
about three lines to choose from. By the time I made my fourth and final pass through
this section, a stuck rider was blocking the line I had used three times before, so I
took the most-used line that had just opened up, but strayed about a foot to the edge
of the well traveled rut down the center, and the less-used dirt gave just enough
traction to barely get me up the hill. By this time fatigue was a big factor, and I limped
to the finish, quickly changed clothes and sat in my warm truck for about an hour.
Double-A Ron took the overall, after busting out a huge lead and riding safely to the
win. The fast guys didn't even seem affected by the mud. Shaw lapped me about
3/4ths of the way into my 3rd lap and was just flying. The next guys didn't catch me
until I was almost to the scoring trailer. I finished second, behind Keith Kibort who
finished strong in the Open B series last year and has continued to ride very well this
year. Another year, another Columbia mud debacle.
April 14, 2002
Steelville, Missouri
6th of 22 in Open B
Ever stopped for gas on the way to a race, looked in the back of your truck or trailer
and saw a noticeable void that should have been occupied by a crucial piece of
equipment or gear? If it's happened to you, then you know the sick feeling. I pulled
into the Mobil gas station in Steelville at about 9:00 a.m., stretched my stiff legs with a
stroll around the backside of the truck, and the unthinkable question hit me like a bad
episode of MacGyver: why is there so much empty space in the back of my truck? The
answer was pretty simple: I didn't pack the Rubbermaid container that holds my
helmet, gloves, goggles, and Camelbak. I'm sure MacGyver could have built me
everything I needed out of plywood, Bazooka gum and the shirt off my back, but I
certainly didn't have the skills. So I checked my watch, did some math and figured that
if I turned around and drove like hell, I could make it home, grab the box, and get back
to the race site just before signup ended. Which is exactly what I did.
Steve Weible was about 2 minutes from pulling the plug on the scanner when I
showed up at the signup table. At that point I was sort of in a semi-haze, just trying to
get the bike and gear unloaded, get dressed, warm up the bike and get to the starting
line in time. With beautiful weather, all the fair-weather racers came out of the
woodwork to ride what was billed as the last race to be held at this location. After 20
consecutive years of holding hare scrambles here, the MHSC will give other clubs the
opportunity to be on the schedule in 2003.
In the four years I've been racing at Steelville, the course has changed very little. The
only deviation that stood out this year was routing the trail around the manure pile,
instead of straight through it. You would think that after 4 years of racing the same
course, I would at some point figure out how to ride it. But once again, I would only be
able to muster a top-third finish in my class. With so much racing on the same path,
the trails get choppier every year. My legs were not in shape to stand up 90% of the
time, which seems to be the only way to ride fast there. On the first lap I got behind
Dave Gerbes ("Davey") and Keith Kibort and followed them for awhile. On a long
uphill, I tried an aggressive pass on Dave and found myself heading for a rock about
the size of a truck tire. I cut to the inside of the rock and basically shoved Dave out of
the way (sorry). He passed me back later on (and much more courteously), after I
stalled out in a tight, rocky section. At some point I got back around him, but then at
the end of the second lap, Dave caught his second wind as he flew by me in the pit
area like I was standing still. After that I never saw him again. So I went from 3rd near
the end of lap 2, to 6th at the end of my third and final lap. With riders in our class
spaced so closely, the fall I took on the last lap probably cost me a couple places. On
one of the many off-camber climbs, I got a bit sideways and hit a tree, and the bike
end up pointed down the hill. It took some time to get started and get back on the trail.
A small mistake, but costly.
Even though my results were disappointing, I had fun and rode safely. I'll miss
Steelville...sort of.
Finger Lakes State Park
Columbia, Missouri
2nd of 14 in Open B (18th overall)
Finger Lakes in March is pretty predictable: mud, and lots of it. But after a warm,
sunny Saturday spent outside digging what my neighbors would later describe as "a
moat thingie" around the house (actually, was installing underground drainage for my
gutter downspouts, whatever...homeowner stuff), I was cautiously optimistic about trail
conditions. All optimism failed on the drive to Columbia. Over the phone, Matt
wussed out on me (again) but I stopped by his place anyway for a quick weather
update. The internet meteorologist said wet and cold. Not good.
Just north of Columbia, weather predictions came true as a steady mist followed me
into the park and stayed for the whole race. At the entrance to the staging area, I
overheard the club guys mention something about an ATV racer with a broken leg,
confirmed later by Pizza Man who greeted me while in the midst of working the race.
He said the trail conditions had been pretty good until I got there, and I should expect
some slick, nasty hills. After signing up, I walked a bit of the course and was shocked
to see evidence of dirt (more like clay) that appeared semi-dry in areas where the sun
had reached the ground. But the mist continued and within a half-hour everything was
damp. By that time the ATV's were finishing their race and I stopped to watch some
tired, mud-coated 4-wheelers and riders cross a creek. One guy on a Honda 250R
blew out his entire silencer core just after the crossing, and it landed in the mud,
smoking, while the ATV continued on with a noise level approaching that of Lambert
Field at 8:00 a.m. on a weekday. Nice guy that I am, I picked it up and carried it with
cold fingers back to the staging area, where by miraculous luck I happened to walk
right past the guy and handed him his silencer core. As I would later discover during
the race, I needed every ounce of positive karma that came from that good deed.
I decided to warm up with a practice lap and found the course to be challenging but
very doable, with only a few potential bottleneck sections but no bottomless mud.
Afterwards, I discovered that the bolts to the left radiator had fallen out and it was only
being held on by the plastic shrouds. Since I had left in the morning thinking Matt
would be coming along, I didn't pack any spare parts but improvised with the old
standby: safety wire and duct tape. On the starting line, I repeated the previous week's
3-kick performance and began dead last on the motocross track. Again, a temporary
tear-off kept my vision in decent shape and I passed a few guys on the track before
heading into the woods. The first lap showed a few signs of riders having difficulty
with the course, but I rode well and moved toward the front of our class.
At the beginning of the second lap, the course was decomposing into a snot-slick rut,
and I managed to slide out just after the scoring trailer. The right handlebar dragged
in the slop just enough to jam a bunch of mud between the end of the throttle tube and
the handguard, so there was basically no return-spring action - hold it open and it
stayed open. Just before the MX track I attempted one of my classic "shortcuts" to get
around a couple guys and ended up headed straight for a tree. It was one of those
instances where there was a split second to realize there was no saving the bike and
to prepare for much pain. I smacked the tree head on but bailed ever so gracefully,
tuck-and-roll scoring 9.7 out of 10 (point deductions for artistic interpretation and use
of the F-word multiple times). I got up just in time to get passed by the guy in my class
with "Davey" painted on the back of his helmet. Kind of cool, but I prefer to avoid any
distinguishing attributes so that maybe the guy drafting behind me thinks I'm in
another class and doesn't try too hard to get around. That's why I wear an all-black
helmet and apply lots of duct tape on my bike, because it really helps me blend in.
Still on lap 2, at the exit of the MX track was a short, steep uphill leading to a
30-foot-long plateau, and then an abrupt 40-foot drop-off down to an open area. This
is where I attempted to entertain the fans, who were braving the cold wind, steady
mist, and mud to watch us climb the short hill and skate down the long hill. I flew up
the hill in third gear, caught some air at the plateau, heard a "Whoa, boy!" from one of
the spectators and had just enough time left to scrub some speed before sliding
down the other side. Still in third gear at the bottom of the hill, I kept the throttle pinned
and attempted to bunny-hop a narrow gully in the middle of the open area. The front
wheel cleared easily, but the spot where I crossed the gully was a bit deeper than I
expected. The back wheel dropped down, smacked the opposite side of the gully and
the rebound catapulted my ass high into the air. So high, in fact, that I performed a
half-handstand on the handlebars and my face was almost within kissing distance of
the front fender, all while traveling at about 30mph. To the fans, this stunt may have
resembled Carey Hart's Kiss of Death, except the bike was horizontal and wheels
firmly planted to the ground. I was fully prepared for pain, but somehow the bike
stayed under me and I continued riding. From now on, I'll leave these tricks to
Pastrana.
I caught back up to Davey and passed him for good, but on the third lap the hills were
in really bad shape. The toughest climb, by virtue of length alone, began with a
deteriorating creek crossing and a well-greased, rocky hill that the ATV's had
completely destroyed. The hot line from the first lap was getting slicker with every
bike, but I was able to use enough momentum to scale the hill each time. Alternate
routes were developing around many of the hills, and they all got harder as the race
wore on. The worst was a climb that was spaced between a couple of lakes, with only
about three lines to choose from. By the time I made my fourth and final pass through
this section, a stuck rider was blocking the line I had used three times before, so I
took the most-used line that had just opened up, but strayed about a foot to the edge
of the well traveled rut down the center, and the less-used dirt gave just enough
traction to barely get me up the hill. By this time fatigue was a big factor, and I limped
to the finish, quickly changed clothes and sat in my warm truck for about an hour.
Double-A Ron took the overall, after busting out a huge lead and riding safely to the
win. The fast guys didn't even seem affected by the mud. Shaw lapped me about
3/4ths of the way into my 3rd lap and was just flying. The next guys didn't catch me
until I was almost to the scoring trailer. I finished second, behind Keith Kibort who
finished strong in the Open B series last year and has continued to ride very well this
year. Another year, another Columbia mud debacle.
April 14, 2002
Steelville, Missouri
6th of 22 in Open B
Ever stopped for gas on the way to a race, looked in the back of your truck or trailer
and saw a noticeable void that should have been occupied by a crucial piece of
equipment or gear? If it's happened to you, then you know the sick feeling. I pulled
into the Mobil gas station in Steelville at about 9:00 a.m., stretched my stiff legs with a
stroll around the backside of the truck, and the unthinkable question hit me like a bad
episode of MacGyver: why is there so much empty space in the back of my truck? The
answer was pretty simple: I didn't pack the Rubbermaid container that holds my
helmet, gloves, goggles, and Camelbak. I'm sure MacGyver could have built me
everything I needed out of plywood, Bazooka gum and the shirt off my back, but I
certainly didn't have the skills. So I checked my watch, did some math and figured that
if I turned around and drove like hell, I could make it home, grab the box, and get back
to the race site just before signup ended. Which is exactly what I did.
Steve Weible was about 2 minutes from pulling the plug on the scanner when I
showed up at the signup table. At that point I was sort of in a semi-haze, just trying to
get the bike and gear unloaded, get dressed, warm up the bike and get to the starting
line in time. With beautiful weather, all the fair-weather racers came out of the
woodwork to ride what was billed as the last race to be held at this location. After 20
consecutive years of holding hare scrambles here, the MHSC will give other clubs the
opportunity to be on the schedule in 2003.
In the four years I've been racing at Steelville, the course has changed very little. The
only deviation that stood out this year was routing the trail around the manure pile,
instead of straight through it. You would think that after 4 years of racing the same
course, I would at some point figure out how to ride it. But once again, I would only be
able to muster a top-third finish in my class. With so much racing on the same path,
the trails get choppier every year. My legs were not in shape to stand up 90% of the
time, which seems to be the only way to ride fast there. On the first lap I got behind
Dave Gerbes ("Davey") and Keith Kibort and followed them for awhile. On a long
uphill, I tried an aggressive pass on Dave and found myself heading for a rock about
the size of a truck tire. I cut to the inside of the rock and basically shoved Dave out of
the way (sorry). He passed me back later on (and much more courteously), after I
stalled out in a tight, rocky section. At some point I got back around him, but then at
the end of the second lap, Dave caught his second wind as he flew by me in the pit
area like I was standing still. After that I never saw him again. So I went from 3rd near
the end of lap 2, to 6th at the end of my third and final lap. With riders in our class
spaced so closely, the fall I took on the last lap probably cost me a couple places. On
one of the many off-camber climbs, I got a bit sideways and hit a tree, and the bike
end up pointed down the hill. It took some time to get started and get back on the trail.
A small mistake, but costly.
Even though my results were disappointing, I had fun and rode safely. I'll miss
Steelville...sort of.
Columbia, Missouri
Steelville, Missouri
Steelville, Missouri
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