Scott Summers Wanna-Be
Image Courtesy of Gary Brady, GT Sports Photography
10 QUESTIONS WITH KURT "PIZZAMAN" MIRTSCHINGMHSC #188/RESTAURANTEUR
The name "Pizzaman" has been heard around the MHSC pits for quite a while now. How long have you been riding the series?
If being of the worker to making the nice burgers of meat restaurant, one is to go to the naming Burgerboy. Or of contrary picking the naming of Mexican will fall to the under Tacoguy name. We are of the Pizza restaurant is constructed to be. It will being naming Pizzaman therefore. What being of a question?
How long have you been riding the series?
Yeah, right…. In 1992 the Easter bunny gave me a brand new XR250R, so I was a racer. I had Real Motorcycle Boots and Matching Real Motorcycle Pants and Everything. Tebbets, 1993. I had no bloody clue what I was getting into. It was hot and snot-slick bubble gum muddy, I wasn’t in shape, I took a practice lap and raced 2 more, I carried no water. When I finally quit, dead last, my entire body seized like an over-revved 125 on straight gas, every single muscle in my pathetic being cramped in torturous pain, even the muscles that made my face wince. It was glorious, and I’ve been racing ever since. Do you like cigars?
Although I've never been there in person, I recently checked-out your company website at http://www.shakespeares.com. It appears you're quite a successful businessman! What's your business philosophy?
We let a 20-year-old pick the music. All we old geezers want to listen to is Duran Duran and the soundtrack to Easy Rider, over and over. I can’t stand the stuff they listen to, but we’re on the edge with it and it makes people think we’re hip, so who cares? I’m not there to listen to music. That, plus we make our pizza out of nothing but the best stuff we can find. If you order green peppers, for instance, you get big thick fresh full rings of green peppers that were cut that day. People like it. I guess that’s a plug for the pizza joint, but you asked for it. Other than that, work your tail off, and be fair to your employees. I guess that’s a business philosophy. Have you seen my cigars?
What's your philosophy on life in general? (Shakespearian quotes accepted!)
Work hard, play hard, and know when to do which. Family first, period. Sleep is a waste, do as little as possible. Kill your cable, just rent the video. If she’s not your best friend, don’t marry her. You’re not over the hill till you get a Laz-E-Boy. If you can finish Burkhart’s national, you can run 99% of the spodes out there into the ground, physically, even if you are twice their age, so ride, ride, ride. When you turn 40, do not fear the Great Long Doctor’s Scope… you need to do it, and they have really good candy. Floss. What’s a Shakespearian quote?
What's your best story concerning the Missouri Hare Scrambles Series?
Anyone who has ever raced even one race has 100 stories. The wildest one has to be Nasty Creek, ’95 or so, The Year The Creek Rose. It started pouring – and I mean a serious deluge – right after the riders’ meeting. It was raining so hard at the start that you almost couldn’t see the guy with the starting board. I won’t even go into what it was like trying to race in that kind of rain. After one lap, The Nasty Creek went from an 8” deep babbling brook to a 6-foot deep, 12-foot wide rushing bike-eater. Most all the racers were on the course on the other side of the creek from the pits. The race was called at that point, and the racers could either sit on the other side of the creek, or jump it. Most of us jumped it. If you pinned it in a high enough gear, you could skip over the top of the rushing water far enough to make it to the shallow part on the far bank. Some made it, some didn’t. One poor SOB must have thought it was only six inches deep, instead of six feet. He tried to drive across it slowly in first gear. He and his bike disappeared under the water. He popped up and swam to shore, but his bike was swept downstream, a rear fender popping up here, a handlebar there. Some gorilla with a rope around his waste finally pulled it out for him about 150 feet downstream. Nobody that was there that year will ever forget that spectacle. To leave the pits and go home, we had to cross the same creek at a different spot, and it wasn’t until 6 or 8 that night that the creek went down enough for most of us to get out. It was the longest trophy ceremony on record. I heard somebody sold a six-pack for $50. Where the hell is my cigar… ?
Motorcycle related or not, dead or alive, past or present, who would you most like to sit down at the bar with, share a few beers, and talk to one on one for the evening?
1: My best friend 2: Anybody who can laugh and talk dirt bikes 3: Anybody with a good idea about how to get rich.
Do you have a wife/girlfriend and/or children?
Karen Stix: wife, best friend, she who puts up with me and washes my socks. She’s 8 hours, 26 minutes older than me (exactly). Drennen Mirtsching: 14 year-old gorgeous daughter who is so much smarter than me that I secretly mortally fear her. Brighton Mirtsching: 10 year-old gorgeous daughter who will bend any man to her every whim when the time comes. They all hate cigars, but they put up with my riding.
When did you start riding motorcycles, what was your first bike, and how did you get it?
I’m not sure which was first… I think it was a 1973 Kawasaki FH250 2-stroke auto-oiler dual sport with fiberglass fenders, beautiful chrome blinkers that I curled forwards sliding down hill backwards at Fingerlakes, 5/8” travel in the rear and less in front. I found it in a for-sale ad, went to the guy’s house and got arrested test-riding it in a schoolyard next to his place. It got 20 mpsp (miles per spark plug) (before it fouled) (because I didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to put 10W-40 in the auto-oiler tank, that’s why). I delivered pizzas with that Kaw. Or maybe it was the ‘70 BSA 650 Thunderbolt that I drove 28 hours straight from Washington DC to Missouri, stopping only for gas, Dingdongs, and taco sauce; drafting semis, feet on the tank, hands behind my head, leaning on the sissy bar, sailing across the Indiana plains, the throttle clamped WFO with a Wonder Bread twisty tie. I still have that bike, but it doesn’t do too well in the dirt.
Have you ever crossed-over to other forms of racing, as in motocross, flat track, or others?
We’re allowed to do that? I didn’t think we were allowed to do that. Who’d want to do that? Reminds me of Caffeine-Free Diet Coke… what’s the point? Have you seen my cigar?
When you first got into riding, who were your dirt bike heroes, and have you got to meet any of them?
I’ve met Summers, Hatch, Watts, etc at the nationals, and that was neat, but mostly I just wonder if their blood is green or yellow, because it certainly isn’t red; these guys are Mutants Not Of This World to ride like that. As for heroes… at a past banquet Frank Levian read a letter that made the point that the real sportsman of the year isn’t one of the riders, but rather our wives/girlfriends/friends/whatever, who put up with our sillyness, who wash our gear and listen to our boring stories over and over, who worry about us getting hurt but don’t say so, and otherwise support us. These are the real sportsmen (sportspersons?) and my heroes, and I’ve met a bunch of them.
Here's your free-plug opportunity. Anything to add?
It is of the being great fortunate privileging responsibilities to those of us of the world that will to ride of the dirtiest motorcycles, and not of the always rights of civil basic. All of who those riding are known to should being the care-taking and responsible are. We are being wise not to forgetting some activities important: of overlooking of littering removal every all each even the other persons’ litter in land of sites for the racing for making the karma nice in landowners; the quietness state of to make the well-packed mufflers for to be of neighborhood calming; the nicely smiling faces of looking at others polite as riding will being occurring; and of all manner of to be great and kind and magnificent about riding of the dirtiest motorcycles as ambassadors to making the goodness of the dirtiest motorcycle sport in a world part of the now known knowledge of all; to be so be it of that the future thing to of all of sons and grand daughters forever to be privileged of doing one that might be able always to do the Dirtiest Riding at Combustion Internal to Road-Off. Cigar vendors are being calling greatly unto me.