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Cuba, Illinois
5th of 10 in Big B class (trophy)
This was the first race on the schedule for 1999 and I was anxious to try out my new KTM 300EXC under
race conditions. It's a long drive up to Cuba; over 3 hours northwest of St. Louis. I went with my riding
buddy, Matt Sellers, who I had met earlier in the year at St. Joe State Park in Missouri. He rides the same
kind of bike, only it's a few years older. As we drove north, we started noticing some snow on the ground.
Not a good sign. If we had been smart, we would have turned the truck around right then. Cuba was a cool
40 degrees and windy, so standing around before the race was uncomfortable at best. The setup area was
in the middle of an open field with no shelter at all. Matt and I looked over the starting area and walked a
short way down the trail, and shivered back to the truck. There appeared to be a little traction, but after the
race I wound have to say the key words here were little (as in none) and there (as in somewhere other than
where I am currently spinning my back tire). In some places the ground was still frozen. Back in '96 I raced
several times on frozen ground and it was pure torture. Guys end up pushing, pulling, dragging, tugging,
kicking, and especially cursing their bikes up all but the smallest hills.
When the race started, I found out just how lousy my stock Bridgestone tires were in the slick stuff. The front
end just went wherever it felt like, and the rear spun way too much. Of course, no tire would have helped me
get through all that snot with ease, but the Bridgestone's were designed for hard-packed terrain. Bad, bad
tires! A couple of the hills were barely passable in the first few laps, and downright impossible near the
end. Fortunately the race was shortened to 1.5 hours (they're usually 2 hrs.), which was still about an hour
too long. I pretty sure that I pushed the bike at least as much as I rode it. The course itself was only a
couple miles long but it took forever to get around. On the last lap, I was tired and just didn't have the energy
to push the bike up one of the last hills. I took a slight shortcut, which is a no-no, but then I spent about 15
minutes struggling up another hill on an "alternate route" (i.e. waaaay off the marked course). O.K., I flat-out
cheated. But cheating can always be justified when you feel like you're breathing the last air of your life, so I
blamed it on the sadistic promoters who should have cancelled the darned race to begin with.
While I pushed the bike up the last hill, it seemed to be overheating, which tends to happen when you're
averaging 5mph in the woods and the engine is revving to the moon. I finished my lap, saw the checkered
flag, and then collapsed at the truck. Matt was already there, ready to go home. I'm sure he wished he
hadn't come. Our bikes were a solid shade of black Illinois mud. We stuck around to see the results, and
my 5th place was good enough for a trophy. I didn't deserve it because I cut the course, but sure as hell
earned it. Matt finished in the middle of the C class. It was a long ride home.
Damage report: Big gash in the seat cover from dragging the bike down a hill for a second attempt at
conquering.
March 21, 1999
Belleville, Illinois
7th of 12 in Open B
This day turned out to be a great day for racing. I had never seen such a huge turnout for this type of event. I
walked the course beforehand with a guy named Jeff Smith, who was parked next to me. Later on
throughout the year I would run into Jeff at various races. The club grounds where the race was held is an
old strip mine, so there were lots of short, steep hills. My friends Curtis and Resmi, along with their friend
Sue from Indianapolis and Curtis' brother Mark came out to watch. Matt raced the C class (novice), but
because of the large number of riders, they ran the C class and Trailriders (beginners) in a separate race
after ours was done. I had a decent start but got hung up in a bottleneck on the first lap. After that, I rode a
good race for awhile. The tight woods suit my riding style, so I was riding well and feeling good. At one
point I took a shortcut up a hill and cut off a faster rider and he started yelling at me. Apparently Curtis and
company were nearby and saw the whole thing, but I didn't notice them, and barely remembered the guy
yelling at me until they reminded me of it. When I'm racing I tend to tune out most of the noise except that of
the engine, the smack of my body hitting trees, and of course the voices in my head telling me to ignore the
pain and get my slow ass moving faster. Resmi took some pictures of me racing and gave them to me
later. So far those are the only photos I have of my racing exploits.
In the last half-hour of the race, I suddenly found myself on the ground feeling woozy and with a headache,
not knowing or remembering why I was lying next to the trail with my bike on its side several yards away.
Apparently I crashed going down a steep hill and hit my head pretty hard, knocking myself out. For a minute
or two I couldn't see straight, but then my senses kicked in and I realized that I couldn't see right because
one of my contact lenses was gone. Some club members eventually found me and helped get me on my
feet and off the trail. One of the guys drove me in his jeep back to the ambulance, where the EMT's checked
me out and suggested I go to a hospital (I didn't). I figured as long as I could remember my name and still
walk, I probably wasn't hurt too bad. Curtis and the gang were amazed at my story and appearance
afterwards. My face was scratched up, my right eye was turning black and blue, my tongue was bloody from
where I bit off a chunk of it, and my elbow was so sore that I couldn't push the bike up the ramp and into the
truck. They all still talk about how much fun they had watching the race that day. Even with the crash I
finished mid-pack but probably could have finished in the top 5 if I had completed the race. Check out these
pictures.
Damage Report: Bent handlebars and triple clamps; helmet cracked (it did its job...rest in peace, old friend).
April 11, 1999
Steelville, MO
13th of 24 in Open B
Another great day for racing...perfect weather and trail conditions. Matt and I both raced the Open B class,
so I figured it would be a good test to see how close our riding skills really were. We had ridden a few times
down at St. Joe State Park, and he seemed to be very close to my speed, but possibly just a bit faster in the
rocks. This race was the first in the Missouri Hare Scrambles Series, and the turnout was large. Way
bigger than any of the D-17 (Illinois) hare scrambles I ever raced. On the pre-run (almost every Missouri
race allows riders to take a practice lap before the race begins) I noticed some play in the steering head,
apparently because I didn't get it tightened down enough when I replaced the triple clamps after the
Belleville debacle. After a quick adjustment I was ready to go.
The start of the race was almost a disaster when a rider on my right side somehow got hooked up on me.
I'm not sure how he did it because he was just out of my sight, but I think our handlebars got tangled. His
bike kept pulling me to the right, and then suddenly we got separated. I glanced behind me, and I'll never
forget the vision of the poor guy's motorcycle doing cartwheels. That easily could have been me. Needless
to say his day was done, and I hope he didn't get hurt too badly. Those starts can be tricky when 25 guys
are all gunning for the same corner. I caught up to Matt after a minute or two and then passed him while he
slowed down and pulled to the side for some reason. The rest of the race was fairly uneventful...just a
typical rocky Missouri race. There was a tricky off-camber section (basically riding parallel to the contour of a
hill) in a place with a natural spring making it wet and slippery. In another place the promoter strategically
routed the trail through a manure pile...nice touch. The laps were about 12 miles long, so I was able to do
three in 2 hours, and was about 90 seconds short of getting in a fourth lap. In a hare scramble, you get to
keep doing laps until the time expires, so if I had been 90 seconds faster then I would have completed 4
laps (and probably run out of gas near the end). The Missouri series uses an electronic scoring system.
It's pretty cool...they stick a barcode to your helmet and scan it as you stop at the main gate. The race
results are put on the Internet, so I was able to see all the lap times. Pretty slick.
Matt ended up having a problem with his front fender. All the bolts fell out, so it was just flopping around,
which is why he was slowing down as I passed him. He went back to his truck to fix it and lost a lot of time,
but still got in three laps. When I got home, I was very disappointed to see the rear brake rotor totally warped
beyond repair. A rock must have wedged its way between the rotor and the spokes. My disappointment
turned to disgust after taking off the rotor and finding a piece of the hub broken off. Many $$'s....
Damage Report: Bent rear brake rotor and cracked rear hub.
