 |  |  |
Marshfield, Missouri
15th of 22 in Open B
The Marshfield round of the MHSC is a gem in the middle of the roughest rock region of
Missouri, the southwest part of the state near Springfield. As the crow would fly with a mild
hangover, the Marshfield course is about halfway in between Lebanon and Chadwick, both
remembered for past poundings of bike and body. While not totally free of the rocks I've
come to expect south of the Missouri River, this course did contain enough narrow singletrack
for me to forget, for very, very brief moments, that I was still riding in someone else's
Motherland.
Aside from a few mud holes and a couple hundred thousand little red ticks roaming the
parking area, I liked what I saw before the race. Not that I mind sharing my blood with thirsty
critters, but I'd rather have preserved all my bodily fluids for the race (note to self: next time
pack the Deep Woods Off). The course was in fine shape with no major obstacles other than
a huge terrace leading into the woods after a fast section of open pasture. Approaching it in
5th gear WFO, would have been a nice jump for Pastrana but not for a slow-reacting spode
like yours truly. On the practice lap I followed PizzaMan for awhile, until he decided to park
himself at the bottom of a water-filled gully. As much as I tried (very little, actually), I couldn't
resist my temptation to blast through the gully and spray him with muddy water. Hey, just
trying to keep you cool, buddy.
At the start of the race, I charged off the line fairly well, but shared the same fate as Matt, who
eloquently described after the race, "I got off to a good start, but everyone else just passed
me." I fought through the middle of the pack and passed 3 or 4 riders before settling in
behind a train of guys led by none other than PizzaMan himself. Kurt was riding about as well
as I've ever seen him, and despite a few attempts, I was unable to get around him before the
end of the first lap. More of the same on lap 2, but PizzaMan finally let me by and I continued
my charge. Somewhere near the end of that lap, a tiny, jagged rock worked its way down my
boot and became jammed on the top of my right foot. I kicked, twisted, and stomped, but
could not get the rock to move. To understand my pain, go into your garage, take off your
shoes and socks, put down your bike's kickstand, let it rest upon your 4th metatarsal (ride dirt
bikes long enough and you, too, will come to know all of the bones in your feet), and have a
friend sit on the bike. Feel good?
On lap 3, rock still jammed in my boot, my front end suddenly became virtually uncontrollable,
the victim of a pinch flat. Apparently a Michelin S12 with 16 psi and an extra layer of old tube
isn't enough to conquer the rocks. The official results show that I finished 15th, although a
scoring error put me ahead of Matt and possibly one other rider in our class. Not that it
mattered...Matt still retained bragging rights for the race. Congrats to Steve Leivan, who
returned to his winning ways by capturing his first overall win of the year.
June 16, 2002
St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
3rd of 14 in Open B
I have never ridden so fast, for so long, during a motorcycle race. And I have never seen so
many other people ride so fast, for so long. The course was advertised as 13.5 miles long,
and my lap times were around 35 minutes. For me, that's fast. Before the race I warned my
Arkansas neighbors that the practice loop (made up of the first 5 miles of the course) was
probably not representative of all that St. Joe had to offer. Although I was correct, it wasn't
because of the rock-beating I expected in the second half of the course. Instead, we were
pleasantly surprised by a couple miles of brand new trail, lots of wide-open sand, and about
as few rocks as I've ever seen at one of these races. Overall, the course was outstanding.
While the weather was remarkably balmy upon arrival, the dust was already kicking up during
the pee-wee race. My 300EXC had apparently got wind of its imminent departure from the
Stichnoth garage and punished me by refusing to start up for the practice lap (note to
readers: the bike is for sale). Fortunately, she didn't make me suffer for too long - after a
quick throttle cable adjustment, the problem was solved. The practice lap went off without a
hitch and the gods smiled on Flat River by dropping 5 minutes worth of rain just before the
race began. The promoters wasted no time in starting the AA's, and two minutes later my
race began with a dust-free run through the sand track.
My start was typically unimpressive, as the big 4-strokes powered their way through the sand
ahead of me. The wide trail narrowed to a small opening in the trees, where my new tinted
goggle lens turned day into dusk. My eyes adjusted in time for a steep uphill, followed by an
equally steep downhill where I stalled the engine while trying to get past a rider having trouble
with the descent. Dwayne Parish got by me there, but I got back around him with a block
pass that was way too aggressive so early in the race. But the train of riders that I had
followed during the first lap at Marshfield was still fresh in my mind, and I was determined to
lead, not follow.
But follow I did, as I gradually caught up to the class leaders. Once we finished the first 5
miles, the rest of the course we were seeing for the first time. We spent a mile or two blasting
through sand whoops at warp speed before settling back into the woods. A new section of
"virgin" trails was laid out for our enjoyment, and the old concrete structure was again made
part of the course. A few fast, rocky sections made me cringe each time my front tire took a
hard impact, but my new Bridgestone's held up just fine for the whole race. The best part was
riding across a levee, perfectly flat, straight, and wide open for a half-mile or so. The big
4-strokes were surely going 90 mph or more through that section. As the freaky, future serial
killer kid from the Mazda commercials would say, "Zoom, zoom." [I have a recurring dream
where that little monster drives over to my house in a Protégé and appears behind every door
I open, whispering those words with the same evil, boyish grin seen on TV's all over the world.
Then I duct-tape his mouth shut and he never speaks again. It is a beautiful dream.]
Lap two was more of the same, with me in second place, about 30 seconds behind the leader,
at the scoring trailer. My lap times slowed a bit after that, probably because I had the crap
scared out of me from a near-crash in the 5th gear sand whoops on lap 2. I settled into 3rd
place on laps 3 and 4, and that's where I finished. Brandon Forrester took the overall win,
with 4 other riders less than one minute behind.
