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St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
5th of 16 in Open B
Three years ago, the annual March of Dimes hare scramble was my first racing experience in Missouri.
Actually, up to that point I had never ridden anyplace where a rock bigger than a baseball was anything but a
novelty. Imagine my surprise. After that day, I nearly packed up my belongings and moved back to
Kankakee, Illinois. Since then I've improved my rock-riding skills to the point where I can somewhat tolerate
the constant beating and the never-ending wonder of how soon my tires will go flat from pinched tubes. But
that doesn't mean I enjoy it.
Besides a rough course, the other sure things at the March of Dimes race are heat (has never been below
90 degrees), blinding dust kicked up by the powdery-white sand, and park rangers enforcing rules to the
letter of the law. Ride too fast in the staging area, pay a fine. Drive your truck too fast coming in and out of the
park, pay a fine. Take a leak in the bushes, pay an even bigger fine. But hey, I'm not complaining. St. Joe
State Park is a great place and we should all feel fortunate to have it, so if that means following their rules
then it's an inconsequential price to pay. This year the motorcycle club was on probation because of last
year's 100-mile grand prix, which started late and finished even later (some guys rode for 6 hours!!). The
in-town start was nixed, as were the 16-mile laps and a 100-mile total course. Just a standard 2-hour hare
scramble, which was fine with me.
The course was set up so riders could take a full practice lap or do a shorter 3-mile loop. I did the shorter
loop that covered the most open, sandy, dusty part of the course. As it would turn out, this short loop was not
very representative of the entire 11-mile loop. Most of the course was 2nd and 3rd gear woods in nearly
perfect condition, thanks to a rain earlier in the week.
Matt and I lined up next to each other at the start, and at the first turn I was running mid-pack with Pizza Man a
couple spots ahead of me. I settled in on a decent pace and soon had one of the fast guys on my tail, trying
desperately to get around me. After he ran over my foot with his front wheel, I decided maybe it would be
good to let him pass. A couple miles down the trail, I followed a bunch of riders under some yellow tape and
off the course and had to turn around. Somehow I discovered our error sooner than the rest of the group and
gained a few places getting back on the trail. Pizza Man must have been part of that group, because he was
right behind me at the scoring trailer. In the fast sand, the big Pizza Thumper blew by me, even though I
could hardly see him in the dust (or figure out how the hell he could see anything going that fast). I finally
caught up to him just before the second check in the woods and got around as he spun out going up a hill.
After that, I cruised for two more laps, fell over once, got lapped by the top two "AA" riders, and finished my
race.
Even though the race was hot, I didn't lose much stamina and rode solid the whole way. A fully vented jersey
is something I should have tried years ago - major cooling, to the point that I never really felt hot (tired and
sore, however...jersey technology still needs some improvement in that area). Pizza Man finished one
position behind me, while Matt took 8th place. Nothing better than beating your friends and rivals, and
coming home with a healthy bike and body.
July 15, 2001
Tebbetts, Missouri
3rd of 15 in Open B
In the past two years, Tebbetts has not been kind to me. The race is always held in July, the month that most
of Missouri attempts to recreate life on the surface of the sun. Actually, that's pretty much the whole summer.
But Tebbetts can be brutal not only for the heat, but also for the fast, pounding course that combines open,
GNCC-type trails with lots of opportunities to get big air. Many of the jumps are naturally occurring in the
woods, which means a slight miscalculation can give you an upfront and personal encounter with a tree.
I vowed to make my third attempt at this race more successful than my previous two tries, both 8th place
finishes in the bottom third of my class (1999 race; 2000 race). This year the weather decided to lend its
cooperation with sunny skies and slightly cooler temperatures. Rain showers had passed through the area
a few days before and the course was in beautiful shape. Matt and I talked to the property owner before the
race, and he mentioned that an adjoining landowner was allowing the club to use 150 acres of woods on a
trial basis this year. On the practice lap I was pleasantly surprised to see narrow, virgin trails cut through the
new acreage. And the best part was that this 2-3 mile section replaced the ridiculously narrow motocross
track in the woods. Picture it: a 10-foot-wide track with doubles and a tabletop thrown in.
At the start, PizzaMan lined up next to me with his big KTM 4-stroke and jumped out ahead. Funny how that
electric starter works...the two-strokes actually fire up more quickly, but once the thumper gets going, it just
digs in and powers its way to the front. Matt also got a good jump on me, and heading into the woods I
assumed my familiar position in the middle of the pack. Shortly into the first lap, PizzaMan crashed ahead of
me and I passed him, but then he caught up and passed me in an open grass section. He goes amazingly
fast in the wide-open stuff with the big Pizza Thumper. About halfway into that same lap, I saw Matt standing
next to the trail with his bike on the ground, a victim of a tree confrontation (I believe the tree won that battle). I
continued on, slowly moving up in the pack and passing PizzaMan in the new woods section after he
dumped the bike, shearing some teeth off his front sprocket.
The course was basically run in reverse from the last two years, and I liked that layout much better. Even so,
the creek section in reverse was just as long and rocky as ever. Definitely a place to either make up some
time, or lose a lot of time. The previous week's rains caused a short section of the creek to rise wheel-high,
but that didn't stop guys from plowing through it in third gear.
I never did see Matt or PizzaMan during the rest of the race, but based on past experience I figured one (or
both) of them was close behind. Somewhere in the third lap, I was following a guy on a KTM who appeared
to be slower than me. I readied myself for a pass, taking a shorter route around a corner that involved
hopping over a small log that was almost parallel to the direction I was heading. We both exited the corner at
the same place and banged bars, so I let him go ahead. He took off and I never saw him again.
At the scoring gate, I heard what sounded like Matt cheering me on as I began my fourth and final lap. I could
only assume that his day had ended early. About halfway into the lap, my bike started sounding strange, and
then it suddenly became insanely loud. Imagine ten chain saws surrounding your head, all wound up and
ready to cut some serious wood. A couple miles later I stopped to check out what was going on and saw
that the silencer tube had broken off. Guess that silencer really does help quiet things down, because with
the exhaust blowing straight out the pipe, I surely was heard many miles away. I think it was advantage in a
couple of ways. The guys ahead of me got the crap scared out of them from the noise and quickly moved out
of my way, while the guys wanting to pass had to keep their distance for fear of partial hearing loss. Steve
Leivan, the overall winner, was the only brave soul who dared to pass me during that time (Steve's quote
after the race: "Huh?"). When I came through the final stretch before the finish, all eyes were on the loudest
bike in the land.
Matt told me I finished 5th or 6th, showed me his shattered rear fender and red marks all over his body (from
crash #3 on lap #1), so we packed up and drove home. That's the last time I trust him in tracking my results -
it was actually a 3rd place finish, and I could have picked up a trophy. But the feeling of finally conquering this
place was all the reward I needed. And my ears are still ringing.
