| 2004 Race Reports |
June 6, 2004
Warrensburg, Missouri
10th of 15 in A Sportsman
In any given hare scramble, the final results rarely tell the full story of the many
individual battles that take place throughout the race. We all have stories to tell
afterwards, but every once in awhile there’s a long-lasting duel that becomes burned
into permanent memory. At Warrensburg, I had such a battle with #237 Elston Moore,
with whom I swapped positions about a half-dozen times.
Back in action for the first time since the White Rock enduro was #791 Matt Sellers,
who I picked up in Wentzville on the way to the race site. While heading west on I-70,
also know as John’s Least Favorite Interstate in All of America, an 18-wheeler honked
its horn as it passed us in the left lane. In my experience, vehicles honk at me for two
general reasons: a) they are unhappy about something, said honk often combined
with the universal hand signal of my #1 status; or b) something important is about to
fall out or off of my vehicle. Matt and I assumed the latter and looked for evidence of
gear attempting to free itself from the confines of my truck bed. Everything appeared to
be in order, so we continued on. Several minutes later I caught up to the horn-honking
truck and began to pass on the left. The driver rolled down his window and
announced himself as none other than #587 David Brewster. With this year’s top
candidate for Most Outstanding Statement of the Obvious, Brewster proclaimed, “I can’
t race today!”
At the race site, we checked in and did a practice lap. The course was beautiful, as
usual, with smooth, relatively dry singletrack and a few new trails I hadn't seen before.
Some of the familiar sections were present, including a couple passes through the
center of a tight, winding creek bed and the treacherous second crossing of the large
creek that flows through the property.
On the starting line, I noticed that the 15-second board was dropping almost in slow
motion as the AA and A classes left the line. Some riders immediately detected the
initial motion of the board dropping and got a good jump, while others were slower to
react. Naturally, I was a little slow to react when the board dropped for our class and
was headed for the first corner amidst a pack of riders. As we braked for the first turn,
#644 Carl Dobson's rear wheel slid out and he fell in front of me. For an instant I had
an opportunity to use his bike as launch pad, but instead fell down with him.
Observing this on the Open B starting line just behind us, #370 Ray Osia uttered
another potential candidate for Most Outstanding Statement of the Obvious: “That guy
can’t buy a good start.” My front tire was lodged between Carl’s rear tire and fender,
and I yanked on the handlebars a couple times to separate my bike from his. We both
gathered ourselves and headed into the woods, me in last place and Carl just ahead.
About a half-mile later we caught back up to our class.
The first creek crossing gave me my first opportunity to make up some ground, as
riders were struggling to make a sharp left turn up the opposite bank. I passed at
least one guy there and a few others later on, including Elston Moore who had
stopped briefly to fix a minor mechanical problem. Over the course of the first lap I
worked my way up to 10th place, just behind #364 Bob Searing. On the second lap I
passed #29 Steve Crews on a nasty climb up a short hill that was becoming a
bottleneck. But in the process of getting up the main line of that hill, which was
becoming a shiny, polished clay rut, a few riders got around me, one of who might
have been Elston. By the end of the lap he had turned on the speed and was nearly a
minute ahead of me in 9th place.
On the third lap I caught back up to Elston and passed him in one of the narrow creek
beds by cutting up and across one of the banks instead of following the contour of the
creek. I rode as hard as I could, but since I wasn't gaining more than a few seconds
on Elston, I could sense that a mistake-free ride from there on would be the only thing
keeping me in front of him. Mistake #1 happened near the end of the lap on a steep
drop-down to cross a small creek. On the other side were some nasty ruts that I tried
to avoid by cutting to the left. When the front wheel hit the silty creek bottom, I came to
an immediate stop and gave myself a bath in the creek. Elston passed by while I was
lifting my bike out of the water. A couple corners later I was surprised to see Elston on
the ground. I passed him again just as he was about to get going and completed the
third lap in 9th place.
Our battle was even more interesting on the fourth and final lap, when I came upon
two riders stuck at the top of a short but steep, sandy hill. The approach was a quick
right-hand turn, and I couldn't see the guys stuck at the top until I had already
committed myself to a deep rut at the base of the hill. I waited a few seconds for the
guys to move out of the way, but along came Elston and found an inside line around
all of us. I could see him in the distance as I finally made it up the hill and out into an
open area. Ever so slowly I reeled him in, a little at a time, until I was close enough to
pass. He and another rider were approaching the short hill of past bottlenecks when I
noticed a line about 20 yards in front of the sharp left turn where the established route
went up the hill. Elston and the other guy passed by this little shortcut but I seized the
moment and beat them both up the hill.
I stretched out a lead over Elston that was just enough that I couldn't hear his bike
behind me, but I knew he was back there just waiting for me to make a mistake. Near
the end of the race he got his chance. In the last mile or so I got bogged down by
some lapped riders and Elston caught back up. About a quarter-mile from the end
was a small creek crossing that had developed deep ruts. A few riders ahead of me
were taking turns going up what appeared to be the best alternate route and like a
fool I waited for my turn. Just as I was about to drop down into the creek and cross
over, Elston snuck in ahead of me and made, in his words, a sucker pass. But I’d had
too much fun to care. Call it the evening out of karma: I had already made two slightly
questionable passes on Elston. Once again, the competitiveness of the A Sportsman
class showed in the results, as the 7th through 10th place spots were only a handful
of seconds apart. And as usual, everyone rode fast at Warrensburg.
June 20, 2004
Marshfield, Missouri
4th of 11 in A Sportsman
Beware of the practice lap, for it can end your race before it starts. This I almost
learned the hard way at Round 6 of the Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship.
After arriving to beautiful weather for mid-June in Southwest Missouri, Matt and I went
out for our customary practice lap, where I tried to get around a guy and fell over in a
shallow creek. The silencer was gurgling underwater but by some miracle I kept the
engine running. I picked up the bike and saw a mini water cannon shooting out
behind me each time I revved the engine. With wet packing material inside the
silencer, the exhaust note changed dramatically. I caught up to Matt, who had taken off
ahead of me, and drowned out all evidence of his running motor as I passed by with
my ear-splittingly loud silencer. Eventually the packing material dried out and the
KX250 returned to its usual semi-noisy self. The first half of the course was fast, with
much of it following ATV trails. The second half was mostly singletrack, and like last
year’s Marshfield course, some was technically challenging and downright tight for
Missouri.
While riding to the starting line I was greeted by #149 Ryan Rohleder, winner of every
200C race he has entered this year and son of #259 John Rohleder who is
affectionately nicknamed Crazy Jesus by his fans, in part because of his
resemblance to the universally accepted portrayal of Jerusalem’s most famous
carpenter and also from a riding style that begs the question, “How would I ride if I
cared little of neither life nor limb?” I lined up on the inside of the A Sportsman row
next to #76 Gary Mittleberg, who along with the rest of my class left me standing while
I two-kicked the bike. I settled in behind #487 Tom Huber and followed the pack for
much of the first lap. Toward the end, I nearly strangled myself by getting a little too
close to a vine while trying to find a good line through a muddy gully and finished the
lap in 6th place.
As with last year, stapled to random trees were paper plates containing various notes
of encouragement, observation, and fact. The rockiest section of creek bed was
named in honor of the notably absent Doug Stone and some of the tighter trails were
identified as Spud Cut. One message confirmed, finally, what for years had been the
subject of rumor, speculation, and innuendo: Todd Corwin does, in fact, blow goats.
On the second lap, #35 Kevin Ruckdeschell caught up to me after taking a first lap
spill. He put on the pressure and I let him by in one of the grass tracks. Kevin put a
small gap on me in the tight trails but then got caught up in a minor bottleneck. I
followed him into the muddiest section of singletrack, where his pace slowed and I
shouted some words of encouragement. He responded by dumping the clutch and
roosting me with mud, then pulled over to let me lead for awhile. We checked through
the scoring trailer just a few seconds apart at the end of the lap.
Kevin stayed close behind on the third lap and then passed me again. I followed
closely as we entered the tight trails in the second half of the course and watched him
get slightly crossed up after clipping a rock. Somehow Kevin avoided bouncing off
about 10 large trees. Later on, he showed me a good line around a rock garden
because that’s the helpful guy he is. I had one opportunity to pass where most riders
were taking the long way around a log, but I didn't react in time to hop over the log and
continued to follow Kevin. When we reached the muddiest trails near the end of the
loop, we both went wide left to avoid the worst of the ruts. He went a little wider left
than I did, and I came out ahead where the alternate lines converged into the main
trail.
I completed the third lap in 4th place, where I would remain. Todd Corwin was about
a minute ahead of me in the 3rd spot, but I was only able to close the gap to about 45
seconds. All the while, I figured Kevin was close behind so I pushed as hard as I
could. In the tight trails, I came up on #122 Nick Bryant, last year’s 6th place finisher in
the Junior class and now a 200C competitor. The narrow course made it difficult to
pass. After following him for a short time, he disappeared around a corner and
suddenly came back into sight, hung up on a small log. I couldn't abort in time to
avoid him and smacked into his rear tire. Nick and his bike both went down. I felt bad
about knocking him down and worse about not stopping to help because I was too
preoccupied in keeping ahead of Kevin. As it turned out, Kevin whacked his knee on a
tree root that slowed his pace on the 4th lap and I finished several minutes ahead.
As is often the case, the tight trails at Marshfield were kind to me in the overall results,
as I broke into the top 20 for the first time this year. Slade Morlang edged out Gary
Mittleberg to win the A Sportsman class, while Steve Leivan took yet another overall
victory.
Warrensburg, Missouri
10th of 15 in A Sportsman
In any given hare scramble, the final results rarely tell the full story of the many
individual battles that take place throughout the race. We all have stories to tell
afterwards, but every once in awhile there’s a long-lasting duel that becomes burned
into permanent memory. At Warrensburg, I had such a battle with #237 Elston Moore,
with whom I swapped positions about a half-dozen times.
Back in action for the first time since the White Rock enduro was #791 Matt Sellers,
who I picked up in Wentzville on the way to the race site. While heading west on I-70,
also know as John’s Least Favorite Interstate in All of America, an 18-wheeler honked
its horn as it passed us in the left lane. In my experience, vehicles honk at me for two
general reasons: a) they are unhappy about something, said honk often combined
with the universal hand signal of my #1 status; or b) something important is about to
fall out or off of my vehicle. Matt and I assumed the latter and looked for evidence of
gear attempting to free itself from the confines of my truck bed. Everything appeared to
be in order, so we continued on. Several minutes later I caught up to the horn-honking
truck and began to pass on the left. The driver rolled down his window and
announced himself as none other than #587 David Brewster. With this year’s top
candidate for Most Outstanding Statement of the Obvious, Brewster proclaimed, “I can’
t race today!”
At the race site, we checked in and did a practice lap. The course was beautiful, as
usual, with smooth, relatively dry singletrack and a few new trails I hadn't seen before.
Some of the familiar sections were present, including a couple passes through the
center of a tight, winding creek bed and the treacherous second crossing of the large
creek that flows through the property.
On the starting line, I noticed that the 15-second board was dropping almost in slow
motion as the AA and A classes left the line. Some riders immediately detected the
initial motion of the board dropping and got a good jump, while others were slower to
react. Naturally, I was a little slow to react when the board dropped for our class and
was headed for the first corner amidst a pack of riders. As we braked for the first turn,
#644 Carl Dobson's rear wheel slid out and he fell in front of me. For an instant I had
an opportunity to use his bike as launch pad, but instead fell down with him.
Observing this on the Open B starting line just behind us, #370 Ray Osia uttered
another potential candidate for Most Outstanding Statement of the Obvious: “That guy
can’t buy a good start.” My front tire was lodged between Carl’s rear tire and fender,
and I yanked on the handlebars a couple times to separate my bike from his. We both
gathered ourselves and headed into the woods, me in last place and Carl just ahead.
About a half-mile later we caught back up to our class.
The first creek crossing gave me my first opportunity to make up some ground, as
riders were struggling to make a sharp left turn up the opposite bank. I passed at
least one guy there and a few others later on, including Elston Moore who had
stopped briefly to fix a minor mechanical problem. Over the course of the first lap I
worked my way up to 10th place, just behind #364 Bob Searing. On the second lap I
passed #29 Steve Crews on a nasty climb up a short hill that was becoming a
bottleneck. But in the process of getting up the main line of that hill, which was
becoming a shiny, polished clay rut, a few riders got around me, one of who might
have been Elston. By the end of the lap he had turned on the speed and was nearly a
minute ahead of me in 9th place.
On the third lap I caught back up to Elston and passed him in one of the narrow creek
beds by cutting up and across one of the banks instead of following the contour of the
creek. I rode as hard as I could, but since I wasn't gaining more than a few seconds
on Elston, I could sense that a mistake-free ride from there on would be the only thing
keeping me in front of him. Mistake #1 happened near the end of the lap on a steep
drop-down to cross a small creek. On the other side were some nasty ruts that I tried
to avoid by cutting to the left. When the front wheel hit the silty creek bottom, I came to
an immediate stop and gave myself a bath in the creek. Elston passed by while I was
lifting my bike out of the water. A couple corners later I was surprised to see Elston on
the ground. I passed him again just as he was about to get going and completed the
third lap in 9th place.
Our battle was even more interesting on the fourth and final lap, when I came upon
two riders stuck at the top of a short but steep, sandy hill. The approach was a quick
right-hand turn, and I couldn't see the guys stuck at the top until I had already
committed myself to a deep rut at the base of the hill. I waited a few seconds for the
guys to move out of the way, but along came Elston and found an inside line around
all of us. I could see him in the distance as I finally made it up the hill and out into an
open area. Ever so slowly I reeled him in, a little at a time, until I was close enough to
pass. He and another rider were approaching the short hill of past bottlenecks when I
noticed a line about 20 yards in front of the sharp left turn where the established route
went up the hill. Elston and the other guy passed by this little shortcut but I seized the
moment and beat them both up the hill.
I stretched out a lead over Elston that was just enough that I couldn't hear his bike
behind me, but I knew he was back there just waiting for me to make a mistake. Near
the end of the race he got his chance. In the last mile or so I got bogged down by
some lapped riders and Elston caught back up. About a quarter-mile from the end
was a small creek crossing that had developed deep ruts. A few riders ahead of me
were taking turns going up what appeared to be the best alternate route and like a
fool I waited for my turn. Just as I was about to drop down into the creek and cross
over, Elston snuck in ahead of me and made, in his words, a sucker pass. But I’d had
too much fun to care. Call it the evening out of karma: I had already made two slightly
questionable passes on Elston. Once again, the competitiveness of the A Sportsman
class showed in the results, as the 7th through 10th place spots were only a handful
of seconds apart. And as usual, everyone rode fast at Warrensburg.
June 20, 2004
Marshfield, Missouri
4th of 11 in A Sportsman
Beware of the practice lap, for it can end your race before it starts. This I almost
learned the hard way at Round 6 of the Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship.
After arriving to beautiful weather for mid-June in Southwest Missouri, Matt and I went
out for our customary practice lap, where I tried to get around a guy and fell over in a
shallow creek. The silencer was gurgling underwater but by some miracle I kept the
engine running. I picked up the bike and saw a mini water cannon shooting out
behind me each time I revved the engine. With wet packing material inside the
silencer, the exhaust note changed dramatically. I caught up to Matt, who had taken off
ahead of me, and drowned out all evidence of his running motor as I passed by with
my ear-splittingly loud silencer. Eventually the packing material dried out and the
KX250 returned to its usual semi-noisy self. The first half of the course was fast, with
much of it following ATV trails. The second half was mostly singletrack, and like last
year’s Marshfield course, some was technically challenging and downright tight for
Missouri.
While riding to the starting line I was greeted by #149 Ryan Rohleder, winner of every
200C race he has entered this year and son of #259 John Rohleder who is
affectionately nicknamed Crazy Jesus by his fans, in part because of his
resemblance to the universally accepted portrayal of Jerusalem’s most famous
carpenter and also from a riding style that begs the question, “How would I ride if I
cared little of neither life nor limb?” I lined up on the inside of the A Sportsman row
next to #76 Gary Mittleberg, who along with the rest of my class left me standing while
I two-kicked the bike. I settled in behind #487 Tom Huber and followed the pack for
much of the first lap. Toward the end, I nearly strangled myself by getting a little too
close to a vine while trying to find a good line through a muddy gully and finished the
lap in 6th place.
As with last year, stapled to random trees were paper plates containing various notes
of encouragement, observation, and fact. The rockiest section of creek bed was
named in honor of the notably absent Doug Stone and some of the tighter trails were
identified as Spud Cut. One message confirmed, finally, what for years had been the
subject of rumor, speculation, and innuendo: Todd Corwin does, in fact, blow goats.
On the second lap, #35 Kevin Ruckdeschell caught up to me after taking a first lap
spill. He put on the pressure and I let him by in one of the grass tracks. Kevin put a
small gap on me in the tight trails but then got caught up in a minor bottleneck. I
followed him into the muddiest section of singletrack, where his pace slowed and I
shouted some words of encouragement. He responded by dumping the clutch and
roosting me with mud, then pulled over to let me lead for awhile. We checked through
the scoring trailer just a few seconds apart at the end of the lap.
Kevin stayed close behind on the third lap and then passed me again. I followed
closely as we entered the tight trails in the second half of the course and watched him
get slightly crossed up after clipping a rock. Somehow Kevin avoided bouncing off
about 10 large trees. Later on, he showed me a good line around a rock garden
because that’s the helpful guy he is. I had one opportunity to pass where most riders
were taking the long way around a log, but I didn't react in time to hop over the log and
continued to follow Kevin. When we reached the muddiest trails near the end of the
loop, we both went wide left to avoid the worst of the ruts. He went a little wider left
than I did, and I came out ahead where the alternate lines converged into the main
trail.
I completed the third lap in 4th place, where I would remain. Todd Corwin was about
a minute ahead of me in the 3rd spot, but I was only able to close the gap to about 45
seconds. All the while, I figured Kevin was close behind so I pushed as hard as I
could. In the tight trails, I came up on #122 Nick Bryant, last year’s 6th place finisher in
the Junior class and now a 200C competitor. The narrow course made it difficult to
pass. After following him for a short time, he disappeared around a corner and
suddenly came back into sight, hung up on a small log. I couldn't abort in time to
avoid him and smacked into his rear tire. Nick and his bike both went down. I felt bad
about knocking him down and worse about not stopping to help because I was too
preoccupied in keeping ahead of Kevin. As it turned out, Kevin whacked his knee on a
tree root that slowed his pace on the 4th lap and I finished several minutes ahead.
As is often the case, the tight trails at Marshfield were kind to me in the overall results,
as I broke into the top 20 for the first time this year. Slade Morlang edged out Gary
Mittleberg to win the A Sportsman class, while Steve Leivan took yet another overall
victory.
Warrensburg, Missouri
Marshfield, Missouri
Marshfield, Missouri
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