| 2004 Race Reports |
 |  |  |
October 17, 2004
Smithville Lake, Missouri
7th of 17 in A Sportsman
In the battle for hare scramble supremacy in Missouri, the Smithville race brought an
end to another outstanding MHSC season. If there's a better course outside of
Newark and Warrensburg, it's yet to be found. Simply put, I just can't ride a lap at
Smithville without a smile on my face. It’s too good, especially when the weather is
beautiful and the course is in perfect shape.
Attendance was massive, thanks to Smithville’s proximity to Kansas and its Forward
Motion series racers. Around 260 guys and gals lined up in the starting area, which
was a multicolored sea of bikes and riders. Mr. Can’t-Buy-a-Good-Start made his
presence known with a three kick effort on the starting line. Even the four-strokes
were gone before I was. In the narrow woods just beyond the first turn, I caught up to
the rear of the pack in a group that included #53 Chili Roberts, #35 Kevin “I Can’t
Stand My KTM But That Won’t Keep Me From Buying Another” Ruckdeschell, and our
newest A Sportsman, 2004 Open B champion Dwayne Parish. A small pileup about a
mile into the course got me around Dwayne and Chili, and for this small piece of
good fortune I was rewarded with a bruise to my lower leg as I grazed a piece of a
motorcycle and/or rider on the way by. A mile or two later I found K-Ruck on his new
KTM 450 thumping quietly ahead of me. Considering the recentness of his switch
from smoker to stroker, Kevin was riding pretty well. At that point Chili had remounted
and was on my rear wheel. He didn't waste much time passing both me and Kevin
but we all stayed close together. The three of us, along with Dwayne Parish behind
me, checked into the scoring trailer just a few seconds apart at the end of the first lap.
To start the second lap, we blasted through more than a mile of grass track that, due
to the position of the starting area, wasn't part of the first lap. Chili and Kevin on their
four-strokes were untouchable here, and it was all I could do to hold off Dwayne. At
the woods re-entry point was one of the trickiest sections of the course, a quarter-
mile of rock-bottom creek/gully that was the only significant mud we encountered.
Some position-swapping occurred on this lap, where or when is no longer clear, but I
moved up five spots from 13th to 8th as I checked into the scoring trailer to finish lap
2. I do remember passing Kevin at the end of a small grass track and putting a filthy
block pass on Chili where my alternate line through an off-camber section converged
with his. Block passes generally involve two types of blocking: a) the other rider; and
b) from ears, the expletives shouted by the blocked rider. Since I didn't hear my own
name, specifically, in Chili’s outburst, I assumed he was simply giving his own self
some words of encouragement (arguably, the blocking out of reality could be
considered a third component of the block pass). He and #32 Matt Weis were only
seconds behind me to start the third lap. Soon enough, Chili got around me and I
tried to keep him in sight the rest of the race.
Near the middle of the course was the only significant bottleneck, a small gully
followed by a hill filled with sharp, flat rocks. The hill would have offered little
resistance if not for the gully, but many riders were passive through it and attacked
the hill without enough momentum. My second and third passes through this section
were slowed by riders stuck on the hill, and each time I lost a position. Chili pulled a
small gap on the third lap, while I put some distance on Matt. Still, we were close
enough that any small mistake would compromise our positions.
After checking through the scoring trailer for the third time, I brushed away mud on the
face of my watch and saw that I’d probably get in a fifth lap. Just beyond the spot of
prior bottlenecks, I caught up to #29 Steve Crews on his Kawasaki. In the same place
I’d passed K-Ruck, I got around Steve but he stayed close for the rest of the lap. His
“little” KDX was remarkably fast on the long grass track. Back in the woods, I was
soon riding mostly by myself. Despite the sheer size of the C and Beginner classes
(112 riders in total), lapped traffic was only an occasionally problem, with most of the
slower riders very accommodating.
On the fifth and final lap, although Matt Weis was only 9 seconds behind me, it was
enough gap that I still felt I was riding alone. Twelve seconds ahead of me was Chili,
who I hadn't seen since the third lap. To my surprise, he reappeared in the second
half of the last lap. I followed him with the intention of attempting a pass in the same
spot I’d passed K-Ruck and Steve Crews. The attempt failed, and I fully expected to
follow Chili to the end. And I almost did. In the last section of woods before a grass
track that ended the race, I kept on his back wheel and a distinct thought passed
through my mind: one small edge could get me around Chili, but it better come quick.
It did.
For reasons I would understand shortly, Chili appeared to be grabbing at his
goggles, which slowed him just enough for me to make a pass. Needless to say, he
was not particularly happy. I was sure he’d put his big Husky 450 on my back tire and
attempt a pass in the grass track. In response, I rode as hard as I’m capable and
held off Chili at the end. In racing, what goes around tends to come back around, as
I've both passed and been passed in the late moments of races (Sedalia '00,
Warrensburg ‘01, Marshfield ‘03, and Warrensburg ‘04). But I have to admit, it’s a lot
more fun to be the guy doing the passing. I stopped after the scoring trailer to get the
scoop on Chili’s problem near the end, and he showed me how the duct tape
holding his RFID card under his helmet visor came loose. If you’re curious, the
answer is yes, in terms of vision, a hanging RFID card is remarkably similar to riding
with your helmet on backwards.
Unbelievably, our class winner was not a guy named Slade. Kansas guy Troy Taff
took the win (and the highest overall finish by a non-MHSC regular), followed by
Slade and a hard-charging Elston Moore. Steve Leivan finished the season by taking
the overall win for the billionth time. Once again, the long drive was worth every mile,
as Tom Eidam and the Platte County Trail Riders Association put on another
fantastic race.
October 24, 2004
White City, Illinois
1st of 3 in Vet A (4th overall)
A race at White City is an exercise in smooth. More than the rock-free dirt, it’s the
technique necessary to go fast here that defines smooth. You don’t ride the course
so much as you finesse your way around it. Just when you think it’s time to shift into
third, it’s actually time to hit the brakes – hard – and slide around the next corner.
When things are going well, White City is magic. But when rhythm is lost, it can feel
like you forgot how to ride a motorcycle.
I rolled out of bed around 8:00, stretched my arms and decided I’d give White City a
go. That's the beauty of a race less than an hour from my home – late decisions don’t
matter so much. And without a practice lap, I had little reason to show up much
earlier than 10:00 for the noon race. With plenty of time to spare, after signup I took a
look at the course near the highway bridge and saw unofficial RocketRacing team
photographer Jeff Henderson working the junior class race. I walked across the
bridge to join Jeff on the other side of the creek, where he was helping young guys
get through a tricky section with the only rocks on the entire course (courtesy of the
Illinois Department of Transportation, often abbreviated as IDOT, or if you actually
have to live and drive in Illinois, IDIOT). Some made it, others gave it their best effort,
and a select few narrowly avoided a drop-kick into the creek by demanding, not
asking, “Help me!!!”
RocketRacing’s very own Jim Walker made the trip from Missouri, as did the Boyz
from Illinoiz, David and John Brewster. The familiar face of Lee Lankutis, hare
scramble coordinator for the Cahokia Creek Dirt Riders, appeared on the starting line
with the green starter’s flag. With a wave of the flag he set loose the A classes, about
15 of us heading for a small opening in the woods about 50 yards ahead. And
somewhere in the middle of that group of 15 was me, Mr. Just Bought an Average
Start, Finally. We all converged in the woods without incident and passed under the
highway bridge. The course layout was similar to past hare scrambles, where we
twisted through the woods for half a mile, crossed Cahokia Creek at the
northernmost edge of the property, then headed back to the highway bridge.
This year a new grass track was added on the west side of the creek in a picturesque
valley. Over the 1.7-mile track I caught and passed two of the several Husky bikes that
had started on the first row. Thanks to Jay Hall’s support of D-17 hare scrambles and
enduros, Hall’s Husky has sold a lot of bikes to off-roaders in Illinois, and many of
them were present on this day. On this first lap the front row guys had nothing but
damp grass to work with, the effects of which were demonstrated gracefully by one of
the Husky guys while laying down his bike in a gentle slide around a corner. The
grass track ended, mercifully, where the course dropped down into the creek. At the
opposite bank was a sandy exit that was already showing signs of breaking down
after only a handful of bikes had scaled it. The next few miles were the best of what
the Cahokia Creek club has to offer: smooth singletrack. It’s not the tightest stuff you’
ll ever encounter, but the corners come quicker than most Missouri-style courses.
With the soil still a bit slick from rain earlier in the week, I reacquainted myself with
third gear slides and riding at the edge of a fine line between control and fear.
A misread arrow let one of the Husky guys get back around me, but I re-passed him
when he took a bath in a creek crossing just before the scoring barrels. After
checking into the wrong scoring lane and hoping the A-class scorekeeper heard me
shout my number, I pulled off my goggles. The roll-off tape had broken almost
immediately after the start and by now the goggles were mostly useless. The second
lap was much more fun than the first, especially at the grass track where a few
corners were showing signs of berms. With the exception of one small creek
crossing, the muddy areas were relatively hard-packed. I finished the second lap
about the same as the first, just under 20 minutes.
On lap three I paid a small price for taking off my goggles when I caught up to an A
rider on a Honda four-stroke. I almost made a pass in some loamy whoops following
the first creek crossing but couldn't make it stick and continued to follow. Even though
the Honda guy’s pace was about the same as mine and I could have been content to
observe his line choices for a few more laps, my lack of goggles and his roost were
concerns. And sure as a John Kerry flip-flop, a chunk of mud flew off the Honda’s tire
and smacked against my eyeball. I blinked in time, fortunately, but it hurt. It also
blurred my vision for the rest of the race (and the rest of the day). I kept the guy in
sight on the grass track and for most of the lap, but never could get close enough to
pass.
With the Honda guy gone, I rode mostly by myself with only a lapper here and there to
keep me company. Somewhere in the second half of the fourth lap I apparently forgot
how to ride a dirt bike. I lost my balance in a slippery rut and wasted a ton of energy
trying to keep the bike on two wheels (I didn't). A minute later I crashed again, righted
the bike, rode about 100 feet and fell down a third time, all within about a quarter-
mile. But I wasn't finished. My final crash came directly in front of Lee Lankutis doing
some trail maintenance. A minute later I got my skills back and finished the lap
without incident. But the minute or two lost from crashing and regrouping might have
been the difference between me and two of the three guys with higher overall finishes.
The next three laps flew by quickly, and soon enough the race was over. My Vet A
class win earned me a $28 payback, enough to buy the last hot dog at the
concession stand and not quite a tank of gas for the ride home. Another awesome
Sunday.
Smithville Lake, Missouri
7th of 17 in A Sportsman
In the battle for hare scramble supremacy in Missouri, the Smithville race brought an
end to another outstanding MHSC season. If there's a better course outside of
Newark and Warrensburg, it's yet to be found. Simply put, I just can't ride a lap at
Smithville without a smile on my face. It’s too good, especially when the weather is
beautiful and the course is in perfect shape.
Attendance was massive, thanks to Smithville’s proximity to Kansas and its Forward
Motion series racers. Around 260 guys and gals lined up in the starting area, which
was a multicolored sea of bikes and riders. Mr. Can’t-Buy-a-Good-Start made his
presence known with a three kick effort on the starting line. Even the four-strokes
were gone before I was. In the narrow woods just beyond the first turn, I caught up to
the rear of the pack in a group that included #53 Chili Roberts, #35 Kevin “I Can’t
Stand My KTM But That Won’t Keep Me From Buying Another” Ruckdeschell, and our
newest A Sportsman, 2004 Open B champion Dwayne Parish. A small pileup about a
mile into the course got me around Dwayne and Chili, and for this small piece of
good fortune I was rewarded with a bruise to my lower leg as I grazed a piece of a
motorcycle and/or rider on the way by. A mile or two later I found K-Ruck on his new
KTM 450 thumping quietly ahead of me. Considering the recentness of his switch
from smoker to stroker, Kevin was riding pretty well. At that point Chili had remounted
and was on my rear wheel. He didn't waste much time passing both me and Kevin
but we all stayed close together. The three of us, along with Dwayne Parish behind
me, checked into the scoring trailer just a few seconds apart at the end of the first lap.
To start the second lap, we blasted through more than a mile of grass track that, due
to the position of the starting area, wasn't part of the first lap. Chili and Kevin on their
four-strokes were untouchable here, and it was all I could do to hold off Dwayne. At
the woods re-entry point was one of the trickiest sections of the course, a quarter-
mile of rock-bottom creek/gully that was the only significant mud we encountered.
Some position-swapping occurred on this lap, where or when is no longer clear, but I
moved up five spots from 13th to 8th as I checked into the scoring trailer to finish lap
2. I do remember passing Kevin at the end of a small grass track and putting a filthy
block pass on Chili where my alternate line through an off-camber section converged
with his. Block passes generally involve two types of blocking: a) the other rider; and
b) from ears, the expletives shouted by the blocked rider. Since I didn't hear my own
name, specifically, in Chili’s outburst, I assumed he was simply giving his own self
some words of encouragement (arguably, the blocking out of reality could be
considered a third component of the block pass). He and #32 Matt Weis were only
seconds behind me to start the third lap. Soon enough, Chili got around me and I
tried to keep him in sight the rest of the race.
Near the middle of the course was the only significant bottleneck, a small gully
followed by a hill filled with sharp, flat rocks. The hill would have offered little
resistance if not for the gully, but many riders were passive through it and attacked
the hill without enough momentum. My second and third passes through this section
were slowed by riders stuck on the hill, and each time I lost a position. Chili pulled a
small gap on the third lap, while I put some distance on Matt. Still, we were close
enough that any small mistake would compromise our positions.
After checking through the scoring trailer for the third time, I brushed away mud on the
face of my watch and saw that I’d probably get in a fifth lap. Just beyond the spot of
prior bottlenecks, I caught up to #29 Steve Crews on his Kawasaki. In the same place
I’d passed K-Ruck, I got around Steve but he stayed close for the rest of the lap. His
“little” KDX was remarkably fast on the long grass track. Back in the woods, I was
soon riding mostly by myself. Despite the sheer size of the C and Beginner classes
(112 riders in total), lapped traffic was only an occasionally problem, with most of the
slower riders very accommodating.
On the fifth and final lap, although Matt Weis was only 9 seconds behind me, it was
enough gap that I still felt I was riding alone. Twelve seconds ahead of me was Chili,
who I hadn't seen since the third lap. To my surprise, he reappeared in the second
half of the last lap. I followed him with the intention of attempting a pass in the same
spot I’d passed K-Ruck and Steve Crews. The attempt failed, and I fully expected to
follow Chili to the end. And I almost did. In the last section of woods before a grass
track that ended the race, I kept on his back wheel and a distinct thought passed
through my mind: one small edge could get me around Chili, but it better come quick.
It did.
For reasons I would understand shortly, Chili appeared to be grabbing at his
goggles, which slowed him just enough for me to make a pass. Needless to say, he
was not particularly happy. I was sure he’d put his big Husky 450 on my back tire and
attempt a pass in the grass track. In response, I rode as hard as I’m capable and
held off Chili at the end. In racing, what goes around tends to come back around, as
I've both passed and been passed in the late moments of races (Sedalia '00,
Warrensburg ‘01, Marshfield ‘03, and Warrensburg ‘04). But I have to admit, it’s a lot
more fun to be the guy doing the passing. I stopped after the scoring trailer to get the
scoop on Chili’s problem near the end, and he showed me how the duct tape
holding his RFID card under his helmet visor came loose. If you’re curious, the
answer is yes, in terms of vision, a hanging RFID card is remarkably similar to riding
with your helmet on backwards.
Unbelievably, our class winner was not a guy named Slade. Kansas guy Troy Taff
took the win (and the highest overall finish by a non-MHSC regular), followed by
Slade and a hard-charging Elston Moore. Steve Leivan finished the season by taking
the overall win for the billionth time. Once again, the long drive was worth every mile,
as Tom Eidam and the Platte County Trail Riders Association put on another
fantastic race.
October 24, 2004
White City, Illinois
1st of 3 in Vet A (4th overall)
A race at White City is an exercise in smooth. More than the rock-free dirt, it’s the
technique necessary to go fast here that defines smooth. You don’t ride the course
so much as you finesse your way around it. Just when you think it’s time to shift into
third, it’s actually time to hit the brakes – hard – and slide around the next corner.
When things are going well, White City is magic. But when rhythm is lost, it can feel
like you forgot how to ride a motorcycle.
I rolled out of bed around 8:00, stretched my arms and decided I’d give White City a
go. That's the beauty of a race less than an hour from my home – late decisions don’t
matter so much. And without a practice lap, I had little reason to show up much
earlier than 10:00 for the noon race. With plenty of time to spare, after signup I took a
look at the course near the highway bridge and saw unofficial RocketRacing team
photographer Jeff Henderson working the junior class race. I walked across the
bridge to join Jeff on the other side of the creek, where he was helping young guys
get through a tricky section with the only rocks on the entire course (courtesy of the
Illinois Department of Transportation, often abbreviated as IDOT, or if you actually
have to live and drive in Illinois, IDIOT). Some made it, others gave it their best effort,
and a select few narrowly avoided a drop-kick into the creek by demanding, not
asking, “Help me!!!”
RocketRacing’s very own Jim Walker made the trip from Missouri, as did the Boyz
from Illinoiz, David and John Brewster. The familiar face of Lee Lankutis, hare
scramble coordinator for the Cahokia Creek Dirt Riders, appeared on the starting line
with the green starter’s flag. With a wave of the flag he set loose the A classes, about
15 of us heading for a small opening in the woods about 50 yards ahead. And
somewhere in the middle of that group of 15 was me, Mr. Just Bought an Average
Start, Finally. We all converged in the woods without incident and passed under the
highway bridge. The course layout was similar to past hare scrambles, where we
twisted through the woods for half a mile, crossed Cahokia Creek at the
northernmost edge of the property, then headed back to the highway bridge.
This year a new grass track was added on the west side of the creek in a picturesque
valley. Over the 1.7-mile track I caught and passed two of the several Husky bikes that
had started on the first row. Thanks to Jay Hall’s support of D-17 hare scrambles and
enduros, Hall’s Husky has sold a lot of bikes to off-roaders in Illinois, and many of
them were present on this day. On this first lap the front row guys had nothing but
damp grass to work with, the effects of which were demonstrated gracefully by one of
the Husky guys while laying down his bike in a gentle slide around a corner. The
grass track ended, mercifully, where the course dropped down into the creek. At the
opposite bank was a sandy exit that was already showing signs of breaking down
after only a handful of bikes had scaled it. The next few miles were the best of what
the Cahokia Creek club has to offer: smooth singletrack. It’s not the tightest stuff you’
ll ever encounter, but the corners come quicker than most Missouri-style courses.
With the soil still a bit slick from rain earlier in the week, I reacquainted myself with
third gear slides and riding at the edge of a fine line between control and fear.
A misread arrow let one of the Husky guys get back around me, but I re-passed him
when he took a bath in a creek crossing just before the scoring barrels. After
checking into the wrong scoring lane and hoping the A-class scorekeeper heard me
shout my number, I pulled off my goggles. The roll-off tape had broken almost
immediately after the start and by now the goggles were mostly useless. The second
lap was much more fun than the first, especially at the grass track where a few
corners were showing signs of berms. With the exception of one small creek
crossing, the muddy areas were relatively hard-packed. I finished the second lap
about the same as the first, just under 20 minutes.
On lap three I paid a small price for taking off my goggles when I caught up to an A
rider on a Honda four-stroke. I almost made a pass in some loamy whoops following
the first creek crossing but couldn't make it stick and continued to follow. Even though
the Honda guy’s pace was about the same as mine and I could have been content to
observe his line choices for a few more laps, my lack of goggles and his roost were
concerns. And sure as a John Kerry flip-flop, a chunk of mud flew off the Honda’s tire
and smacked against my eyeball. I blinked in time, fortunately, but it hurt. It also
blurred my vision for the rest of the race (and the rest of the day). I kept the guy in
sight on the grass track and for most of the lap, but never could get close enough to
pass.
With the Honda guy gone, I rode mostly by myself with only a lapper here and there to
keep me company. Somewhere in the second half of the fourth lap I apparently forgot
how to ride a dirt bike. I lost my balance in a slippery rut and wasted a ton of energy
trying to keep the bike on two wheels (I didn't). A minute later I crashed again, righted
the bike, rode about 100 feet and fell down a third time, all within about a quarter-
mile. But I wasn't finished. My final crash came directly in front of Lee Lankutis doing
some trail maintenance. A minute later I got my skills back and finished the lap
without incident. But the minute or two lost from crashing and regrouping might have
been the difference between me and two of the three guys with higher overall finishes.
The next three laps flew by quickly, and soon enough the race was over. My Vet A
class win earned me a $28 payback, enough to buy the last hot dog at the
concession stand and not quite a tank of gas for the ride home. Another awesome
Sunday.
Smithville, Missouri
White City, Illinois
White City, Illinois