| 2002 Race Reports |
 |  |  |
White City, Illinois
DNF
With bike maintenance, and maybe life in general, sometimes I don't see the big
picture. I'll drill down to the minutia of trying to get the clutch lever to stop flopping
around the pivot bolt, all the while failing to notice the engine has virtually no
compression. Actually, I knew the bike was kicking over a little too easily at Eugene,
but it still fired up, so where's the problem with that? When I hooked up with my buddy
Jeff Smith at Flat River in late-September, the old bike wouldn't start (I knew there was
a reason to have two bikes!) and the subsequent engine tear-down produced the
culprit: ring-end gap of approximately 0.090". No, that's not a misprint and yes, it was
just a smidgen above the recommended gap of 0.020". Also, one of the hose
connections at the bottom of the right-side radiator was severely kinked, which
explained the coolant loss after Eugene. So I had ridden Eugene on a bike with
virtually no compression and a radiator leak, and somehow finished 20th overall. Any
bike that can survive my harsh riding style and 8th grade shop class mechanical
ability is tougher than Brett Favre with a handful of painkillers.
When I put the finishing touches on the top-end job at about 9:00 p.m. the night before
the White City enduro, I noticed that one of the cylinder head bolts wouldn't tighten
down to torque specs*. I thought, what the heck, it's snug enough and there's 5 other
bolts to hold down the head and I want to race tomorrow! To hell with the head bolt!
With the garage doors closed so as not to annoy the neighbors any more than usual,
the bike fired up. Sunday morning at 6:30 a.m., the bike fired up again. With mostly dry
weather the past month, never was there a better opportunity to finish the White City
enduro for the first time ever.
*note to '99 KTM riders: do NOT tighten the head bolts to the KTM owner's manual
specs of 35 N-m. Wrong, wrong, wrong!! The '02 owner's manual shows 18
N-m....now that's more like it.
Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see an 18-mph average on the route
sheet. As usual, the total miles were high enough that finishing would require 6 hours
in the saddle. That is just a long freakin' time. Naturally I didn't bother to bring an
18-mph roll chart, so I took my 24-mph chart and modified it accordingly. The result
was a 12-foot long, 3-inch wide chicken-scratch-filled paper that looked more like a
chart from a seismograph than a roll chart for an enduro. No fancy-dancy computers
for this guy. I was on minute 20, which would be far enough back for the earlier riders
to blaze a nicely defined trail. The good news this year was that the gas stops were
both at the club grounds, meaning that I wouldn't have to beg someone to take out my
gas jug to some remote location.
Three of us began on the 20th row, and I let one of the guys lead for the first 5 miles
or so. The route started in the club grounds, which, when dry, are some of the best
trails I've ever ridden. The lead guy let me pass when I started to get my groove on,
and soon Jeff Fredette, freshly back from the ISDE in the Czech Republic, caught up
to me as he always does. Watching him is ride is seeing grace in motion...he really
makes it look easy. We left the club grounds after about 8.5 miles and headed out to
the remote trails on the Mount Olive side of I-55. The 18-mph average kept speeds
down on the road sections, and I had time to stop for a snack and witness Fredette
showing perfect form while on his knees, balancing his bike in a ditch while taking a
leak. All those years of experience, paying off yet again for the crafty veteran.
The club grounds were like a 4-lane highway compared to the outlying trails in the
next 20 miles, with mostly first and second gear stuff. The dirt was just perfect, slightly
damp with plenty of traction, and easy to ride smoothly in. After each reset, the tighter
it got, the quicker Fredette caught up to me. I was enjoying myself and counting down
the miles to my first-ever finish of this old-school enduro, imagining the satisfaction of
riding 100 miles in a day...WHAM...thump...what the hell??!? Is that my bike on the
ground 20 feet ahead of me? Why am I sitting on the ground with a sore ass? Oh
yeah, tree. Big tree. Should have ducked a little lower. In a daze, I walked up the trail to
my bike as a couple of guys asked if I was O.K. and I gave them the thumbs up, even
though I couldn't see straight. The bike was on its side, engine still running and back
wheel spinning in second gear. I pulled in the clutch, righted the bike and continued
onward in a slight haze. A few minutes my later my head cleared and I was back...I
was sooo back. Trees be damned, I was going to finish.
During most of the race I had been detecting a slight aroma of antifreeze, and during
one of the road sections after my tree encounter, I stopped to look at the cylinder
head. I didn't like what I saw. Coolant was seeping out the head bolt that had been
stripped, although it didn't appear that I was losing much. Even so, I didn't want to risk
overheating, especially when I could be many miles from the club grounds if and
when it happened. The last road section before the gas stop led back to the club
grounds, and just before checking into the woods I took one last look at the cylinder
head. A couple more miles (and another pass by Fredette) and I was back at my
truck, giving one last thought to continuing. I didn't...beaten again. But it was a great
day. For the club, the turnout was very disappointing, with only 55 guys riding.
Apparently the previous two years scared away many. But I will be back. And I will
finish.
October 27, 2002
Knob Noster, Misouri
1st of 8 in Open B
Fifteen races, and it all came down to this.
Actually, only a few class winners were determined at the 16th and final round of the
2002 Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship. Most notably, the overall champion
would be crowned on this day, with the battle between Steve Leivan and Brandon
Forrester culminating with a final showdown. The highly competitive Vet class winner
would also be determined, with Kevin Ruckdeschell in the driver's seat, and the
Junior class also came down to the wire.
Throughout the year, the MHSC has been testing a new scoring method in which
plastic cards, about the size of a credit card, are placed under helmet visors. A PVC
pipe contraption rigged up to the scoring trailer detects the cards as riders pass
through. The cards take the place of bar code stickers, so there's no manual
scanning involved. As I found out while attempting to run the scanner at Smithville
Lake, there is a certain technique to its operation, which can lead to scoring errors.
With the cards, it's all automatic. A sampling of riders had been using the cards in
past races, but today everyone would get a plastic card duct-taped to the underside of
their helmet visors. What happens if your visor gets ripped off your helmet, you ask?
"Better go back and find it," said Tom Eidam.
After I signed up and received my card, I walked down to the big creek to check out the
water level. The Knob Noster area had apparently been dry for some time, as the
creek was fairly low and easily passable, unlike last year when it was just high
enough to make for an uncomfortable crossing. I suited up with an extra jersey and
shivered in the 45-degree air, hoping my bike would start after its second engine
tear-down in two weeks. It came to life after a few good kicks and I began my practice
lap.
What I found on the trails was pure joy. The course was nearly identical to White City
the previous week, with twisty trails on loamy ground with very few rocks. Most of the
woods could be ridden at a very fast pace in second and third gear, except for two
drop-downs into small, narrow creek beds that were first gear and a lot of clutch. The
first creek bed run was relatively short, but the second run was longer and tougher
and ended with a rock garden, just to remind everyone that we were still in Missouri.
Anyone caught behind a slower rider would have no choice but to follow. The 9-mile
course had a few wide-open areas and a small track laid out in an open field, but no
major obstacles. Today, everyone could ride at an aggressive pace.
Back at the truck, once again I smelled antifreeze on the bike, but this time it was just
the radiator bleed bolt that I forgot to tighten. The heli-coil was doing its job in the
cylinder and the bike was running perfectly. My fingertips were cold, so I switched to
winter gloves and headed to the starting area to wait in the cold for our row to start.
The Open B class was about 7 rows back, which meant a total of around 15 minutes
on the line trying to shake off the chill and get a good view of the other classes
starting their races. On my left was Dwayne Parrish, riding a KTM 300MXC, and Pat
Welch was on my right with his big 520SX. When the board dropped, I had to two-kick
the bike and went into the first corner in the back of the pack. The trail wandered in
and around the pit area before crossing the big creek. I charged through the creek
and passed Pat, sending a nice cool splash of water his way, but he immediately
passed me back in the open area on the opposite side. My 300 was no match for his
big 4-stroke and with watered-up goggles I followed him in a train of riders that
included Dwayne and Marty Smith. Pat eventually let me by, but Dwayne and Marty
were riding strong. I had a chance to get by Marty on a tricky hill that had two lines to
the top, but I foolishly followed him while he spun out on some rocks at the top. We
both lost momentum but Marty recovered as I continued to spin, so I had to play
catch-up. Pat passed me in the long stretch of narrow creek bed after I got hung up on
a nasty tree root. The bike fell over upside-down and I had to drag it out of the way. At
the end of the first lap, Dwayne checked in first, followed by Marty and then me. Pat
and Wayne Hatfield were another 30 seconds back.
I was finally able to get around Marty near the end of lap two, where we crossed the
big creek for the second time. I learned from my previous mistake and took a different
line up the creek bank, which was just enough of an advantage to get around him and
focus on Dwayne. I took the lead just before the scoring trailer, but lurking behind me
was Wayne, who passed me somewhere in the third lap. By then, I was starting to
encounter traffic as we began lapping riders. Other than a few deep ruts in creek
banks, the trail held up very well for the entire race, so the fast guys kept going fast.
Just after the first woods check on the fourth lap, the AA's were already lapping me.
Steve Levian and Doug Stone had set a blistering pace, with Brandon Forrester close
behind. I got around Wayne somewhere in that fourth lap, but he was on my back tire
when we passed through the scoring trailer to start our fifth and final lap. I put just a
small amount of distance on him, but then got caught behind a slow rider in the long
stretch of narrow creek. After the long creek run, passing was still a challenge. I rode
hard for the last lap and could see Wayne behind me when I came through the last
section of grass track around the pits. Once again, I took the win, but the margin was
only 15 seconds. As the lap times showed, everyone was riding fast at Knob Noster.
The top 25 overall finishers included exactly one person who wasn't an A or AA rider.
Funny how perfect conditions can bring out the best in bikes and riders.
The overall winner was Steve Leivan, who also took home the series with his victory.
Doug Stone placed second while Brandon Forrester, poised to de-throne Leivan as
King of the MHSC, suffered a mechanical problem and finished as runner-up for the
series. The final standings will be permanently marked with controversy, as Forrester
was denied his request to work the Knob Noster race and earn work average points
that would have given him the overall championship. But congratulations are
well-deserved for Leivan, who came back from nasty off-season injuries to win the
series against some very tough odds. Congrats are also in order for K-Ruck, who
secured the Vet class series with his 4th place finish.
For me, the 2002 season brought the most success I've ever had, with 5 MHSC class
wins and the Open B series win. A milestone this year was three top-20 overall
finishes in the MHSC, which left me tied for 49th overall in the series. The only real
disappointment was not finishing that friggin' White City enduro for the 4th year in a
row. People ask me where the speed came from this year, but there's no magic to it. I
kept the mistakes to a minimum, added some new aggression to my riding style (as
Adam Ashcroft can attest to), and built up a pretty good resistance to the summer
heat. But the real success this year was no visits to my friendly doctor, who probably
wonders why I don't come around anymore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
See you next year....
DNF
With bike maintenance, and maybe life in general, sometimes I don't see the big
picture. I'll drill down to the minutia of trying to get the clutch lever to stop flopping
around the pivot bolt, all the while failing to notice the engine has virtually no
compression. Actually, I knew the bike was kicking over a little too easily at Eugene,
but it still fired up, so where's the problem with that? When I hooked up with my buddy
Jeff Smith at Flat River in late-September, the old bike wouldn't start (I knew there was
a reason to have two bikes!) and the subsequent engine tear-down produced the
culprit: ring-end gap of approximately 0.090". No, that's not a misprint and yes, it was
just a smidgen above the recommended gap of 0.020". Also, one of the hose
connections at the bottom of the right-side radiator was severely kinked, which
explained the coolant loss after Eugene. So I had ridden Eugene on a bike with
virtually no compression and a radiator leak, and somehow finished 20th overall. Any
bike that can survive my harsh riding style and 8th grade shop class mechanical
ability is tougher than Brett Favre with a handful of painkillers.
When I put the finishing touches on the top-end job at about 9:00 p.m. the night before
the White City enduro, I noticed that one of the cylinder head bolts wouldn't tighten
down to torque specs*. I thought, what the heck, it's snug enough and there's 5 other
bolts to hold down the head and I want to race tomorrow! To hell with the head bolt!
With the garage doors closed so as not to annoy the neighbors any more than usual,
the bike fired up. Sunday morning at 6:30 a.m., the bike fired up again. With mostly dry
weather the past month, never was there a better opportunity to finish the White City
enduro for the first time ever.
*note to '99 KTM riders: do NOT tighten the head bolts to the KTM owner's manual
specs of 35 N-m. Wrong, wrong, wrong!! The '02 owner's manual shows 18
N-m....now that's more like it.
Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see an 18-mph average on the route
sheet. As usual, the total miles were high enough that finishing would require 6 hours
in the saddle. That is just a long freakin' time. Naturally I didn't bother to bring an
18-mph roll chart, so I took my 24-mph chart and modified it accordingly. The result
was a 12-foot long, 3-inch wide chicken-scratch-filled paper that looked more like a
chart from a seismograph than a roll chart for an enduro. No fancy-dancy computers
for this guy. I was on minute 20, which would be far enough back for the earlier riders
to blaze a nicely defined trail. The good news this year was that the gas stops were
both at the club grounds, meaning that I wouldn't have to beg someone to take out my
gas jug to some remote location.
Three of us began on the 20th row, and I let one of the guys lead for the first 5 miles
or so. The route started in the club grounds, which, when dry, are some of the best
trails I've ever ridden. The lead guy let me pass when I started to get my groove on,
and soon Jeff Fredette, freshly back from the ISDE in the Czech Republic, caught up
to me as he always does. Watching him is ride is seeing grace in motion...he really
makes it look easy. We left the club grounds after about 8.5 miles and headed out to
the remote trails on the Mount Olive side of I-55. The 18-mph average kept speeds
down on the road sections, and I had time to stop for a snack and witness Fredette
showing perfect form while on his knees, balancing his bike in a ditch while taking a
leak. All those years of experience, paying off yet again for the crafty veteran.
The club grounds were like a 4-lane highway compared to the outlying trails in the
next 20 miles, with mostly first and second gear stuff. The dirt was just perfect, slightly
damp with plenty of traction, and easy to ride smoothly in. After each reset, the tighter
it got, the quicker Fredette caught up to me. I was enjoying myself and counting down
the miles to my first-ever finish of this old-school enduro, imagining the satisfaction of
riding 100 miles in a day...WHAM...thump...what the hell??!? Is that my bike on the
ground 20 feet ahead of me? Why am I sitting on the ground with a sore ass? Oh
yeah, tree. Big tree. Should have ducked a little lower. In a daze, I walked up the trail to
my bike as a couple of guys asked if I was O.K. and I gave them the thumbs up, even
though I couldn't see straight. The bike was on its side, engine still running and back
wheel spinning in second gear. I pulled in the clutch, righted the bike and continued
onward in a slight haze. A few minutes my later my head cleared and I was back...I
was sooo back. Trees be damned, I was going to finish.
During most of the race I had been detecting a slight aroma of antifreeze, and during
one of the road sections after my tree encounter, I stopped to look at the cylinder
head. I didn't like what I saw. Coolant was seeping out the head bolt that had been
stripped, although it didn't appear that I was losing much. Even so, I didn't want to risk
overheating, especially when I could be many miles from the club grounds if and
when it happened. The last road section before the gas stop led back to the club
grounds, and just before checking into the woods I took one last look at the cylinder
head. A couple more miles (and another pass by Fredette) and I was back at my
truck, giving one last thought to continuing. I didn't...beaten again. But it was a great
day. For the club, the turnout was very disappointing, with only 55 guys riding.
Apparently the previous two years scared away many. But I will be back. And I will
finish.
October 27, 2002
Knob Noster, Misouri
1st of 8 in Open B
Fifteen races, and it all came down to this.
Actually, only a few class winners were determined at the 16th and final round of the
2002 Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship. Most notably, the overall champion
would be crowned on this day, with the battle between Steve Leivan and Brandon
Forrester culminating with a final showdown. The highly competitive Vet class winner
would also be determined, with Kevin Ruckdeschell in the driver's seat, and the
Junior class also came down to the wire.
Throughout the year, the MHSC has been testing a new scoring method in which
plastic cards, about the size of a credit card, are placed under helmet visors. A PVC
pipe contraption rigged up to the scoring trailer detects the cards as riders pass
through. The cards take the place of bar code stickers, so there's no manual
scanning involved. As I found out while attempting to run the scanner at Smithville
Lake, there is a certain technique to its operation, which can lead to scoring errors.
With the cards, it's all automatic. A sampling of riders had been using the cards in
past races, but today everyone would get a plastic card duct-taped to the underside of
their helmet visors. What happens if your visor gets ripped off your helmet, you ask?
"Better go back and find it," said Tom Eidam.
After I signed up and received my card, I walked down to the big creek to check out the
water level. The Knob Noster area had apparently been dry for some time, as the
creek was fairly low and easily passable, unlike last year when it was just high
enough to make for an uncomfortable crossing. I suited up with an extra jersey and
shivered in the 45-degree air, hoping my bike would start after its second engine
tear-down in two weeks. It came to life after a few good kicks and I began my practice
lap.
What I found on the trails was pure joy. The course was nearly identical to White City
the previous week, with twisty trails on loamy ground with very few rocks. Most of the
woods could be ridden at a very fast pace in second and third gear, except for two
drop-downs into small, narrow creek beds that were first gear and a lot of clutch. The
first creek bed run was relatively short, but the second run was longer and tougher
and ended with a rock garden, just to remind everyone that we were still in Missouri.
Anyone caught behind a slower rider would have no choice but to follow. The 9-mile
course had a few wide-open areas and a small track laid out in an open field, but no
major obstacles. Today, everyone could ride at an aggressive pace.
Back at the truck, once again I smelled antifreeze on the bike, but this time it was just
the radiator bleed bolt that I forgot to tighten. The heli-coil was doing its job in the
cylinder and the bike was running perfectly. My fingertips were cold, so I switched to
winter gloves and headed to the starting area to wait in the cold for our row to start.
The Open B class was about 7 rows back, which meant a total of around 15 minutes
on the line trying to shake off the chill and get a good view of the other classes
starting their races. On my left was Dwayne Parrish, riding a KTM 300MXC, and Pat
Welch was on my right with his big 520SX. When the board dropped, I had to two-kick
the bike and went into the first corner in the back of the pack. The trail wandered in
and around the pit area before crossing the big creek. I charged through the creek
and passed Pat, sending a nice cool splash of water his way, but he immediately
passed me back in the open area on the opposite side. My 300 was no match for his
big 4-stroke and with watered-up goggles I followed him in a train of riders that
included Dwayne and Marty Smith. Pat eventually let me by, but Dwayne and Marty
were riding strong. I had a chance to get by Marty on a tricky hill that had two lines to
the top, but I foolishly followed him while he spun out on some rocks at the top. We
both lost momentum but Marty recovered as I continued to spin, so I had to play
catch-up. Pat passed me in the long stretch of narrow creek bed after I got hung up on
a nasty tree root. The bike fell over upside-down and I had to drag it out of the way. At
the end of the first lap, Dwayne checked in first, followed by Marty and then me. Pat
and Wayne Hatfield were another 30 seconds back.
I was finally able to get around Marty near the end of lap two, where we crossed the
big creek for the second time. I learned from my previous mistake and took a different
line up the creek bank, which was just enough of an advantage to get around him and
focus on Dwayne. I took the lead just before the scoring trailer, but lurking behind me
was Wayne, who passed me somewhere in the third lap. By then, I was starting to
encounter traffic as we began lapping riders. Other than a few deep ruts in creek
banks, the trail held up very well for the entire race, so the fast guys kept going fast.
Just after the first woods check on the fourth lap, the AA's were already lapping me.
Steve Levian and Doug Stone had set a blistering pace, with Brandon Forrester close
behind. I got around Wayne somewhere in that fourth lap, but he was on my back tire
when we passed through the scoring trailer to start our fifth and final lap. I put just a
small amount of distance on him, but then got caught behind a slow rider in the long
stretch of narrow creek. After the long creek run, passing was still a challenge. I rode
hard for the last lap and could see Wayne behind me when I came through the last
section of grass track around the pits. Once again, I took the win, but the margin was
only 15 seconds. As the lap times showed, everyone was riding fast at Knob Noster.
The top 25 overall finishers included exactly one person who wasn't an A or AA rider.
Funny how perfect conditions can bring out the best in bikes and riders.
The overall winner was Steve Leivan, who also took home the series with his victory.
Doug Stone placed second while Brandon Forrester, poised to de-throne Leivan as
King of the MHSC, suffered a mechanical problem and finished as runner-up for the
series. The final standings will be permanently marked with controversy, as Forrester
was denied his request to work the Knob Noster race and earn work average points
that would have given him the overall championship. But congratulations are
well-deserved for Leivan, who came back from nasty off-season injuries to win the
series against some very tough odds. Congrats are also in order for K-Ruck, who
secured the Vet class series with his 4th place finish.
For me, the 2002 season brought the most success I've ever had, with 5 MHSC class
wins and the Open B series win. A milestone this year was three top-20 overall
finishes in the MHSC, which left me tied for 49th overall in the series. The only real
disappointment was not finishing that friggin' White City enduro for the 4th year in a
row. People ask me where the speed came from this year, but there's no magic to it. I
kept the mistakes to a minimum, added some new aggression to my riding style (as
Adam Ashcroft can attest to), and built up a pretty good resistance to the summer
heat. But the real success this year was no visits to my friendly doctor, who probably
wonders why I don't come around anymore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
See you next year....
White City, Illinois
Knob Noster, Missouri
Knob Noster, Missouri