2000 Race Reports
August 13, 2000
Roselawn, Indiana
In a way, this enduro reminded me of White City last year.  Problems from
the start, and then I got hurt.  At Roselawn, the bike fired up on the first
kick, then died after about three seconds, and then refused to start.  
Naturally, this occurred ten minutes before I was scheduled to start the
race.  A quick change of the spark plug produced no better results, and
fuel was reaching the carb, so I was stumped.  The guys parked next to
me rode KTM's and offered another plug, and even installed it for me
while I continued cursing.  My starting time came and went, and as I talked
with the guys helping me out, a dreadful thought came to my mind: Could I
have forgotten to remove the two paper towels stuffed into the intake side
of the carb while the air filter was being cleaned and oiled the day
before?  That would explain my problems, but oh what a bonehead
mistake that would be!  I opened the airbox door, peeled back the air
filter, and holy sh#@, there were the two paper towels blocking all airflow
into the carb.  By this time I was about 10 minutes late for the start, which
put me out of trophy contention before I traveled a foot down the trail.

So now I'm basically trail riding, figuring I'd catch up to Ryan Baker (the
Bourbonnais guy I rode with at this race in April) and his buddy Jeff (also
from the Kankakee area) somewhere down the trail (we all rode on the
same minute).  After the first 8-mile section through the nudist woods
there was a long break back at the setup area before heading out on the
road, and it was there I discovered my steering head was loose.  I pulled
out of the staging area about 5 minutes late and made up 4 minutes by
the next check.  As I passed through the check I could make out Ryan
and Jeff heading the opposite direction down a dirt road, which seemed
strange, especially after it took me about 10 more minutes to get to where
they were at.  I caught up to them on a paved road section, told them my
story, let them laugh at me for awhile, and then asked them why they were
so far ahead of me.  Answer:  they were 8 minutes early to the last check.  
In an enduro, early means very bad, and a little quick-in-the-head math
equals 37 dropped points right there!!  Who's laughing now, speedy?!?  
My airbox incident cost me about 20 points total (two checks before the
first reset), so I was still beating them.  Now we were all trail riding.

I kept Ryan and Jeff on time (or at least not early) for the next few
sections, but we were all getting beat up from being some of the earliest
riders to go through the trails.  At Roselawn, the club guys take machetes
and hack a patch wide enough to walk through, and that's your trail.  Jeff
was the fastest of our group, so he lead for awhile, and then we traded
off.  Just before the gas stop, Ryan got hung up and I got around him, but
then at the gas stop we didn't see him and figured he had problems.  Jeff
and I took off with me leading, and in the next section I smacked my arm
against a tree.  I had to slow down and let Jeff by, and limped along in first
gear for what seemed like 5 miles before the next road section.  After that
I rode back to my truck with a very sore, very swollen arm.  I had it
X-rayed back in St. Louis but it was not broken.  The DNF was
disappointing, though.

August 27, 2000
Sedalia, Missouri
5th of 9 in Open B
These Missouri races tend to get repetitive after awhile.  Always rocky,
usually dry, and definitely hot.  Sedalia is about 3 hours from home, but at
least Matt came along so the ride didn't seem as long.  Even though it
was pouring rain when I left, Sedalia was dry as a bone.  Matt has a
pop-up awning that is great for providing a shady place to sit while waiting
for the race to start.  For the second time in a row, we parked next to a
guy named Lars who rides the 250 B class and drives an old Honda or
Acura or some little car with a trailer (and has a Colorado license plate).  
The practice lap was not too bad, but I could tell the heat was going to be
a problem.  I forgot to put on my elbow guards, so naturally I bumped my
sore arm against a little twig of a tree, and it was hurting again.  At the
starting line, I was lined up next to Pizza Man.  I'm not sure what his real
first name is, but that's what he goes by.  It's even listed that way on the
scoring system.  He's a nice guy, owns a pizza joint called Shakespeare's
Pizza (hence the name, Pizza Man).  He noticed that my chest protector
wasn't fastened and got me hooked up.  Thanks, Pizza Man.

At the start, the regular fast guy in the Open B class, Cookie Monster,
jumped into the lead, followed by Matt, Pizza Man, me, and another guy.  
Cookie Monster leads in the point standings, mostly because he's fast
and goes to every race.  His last name is hard to spell and pronounce
(kinda like mine), but it sort of sounds like Cookie Monster, so that's what
they call him.  Maybe someday I'll race enough Missouri events to get a
nickname.  Something easy to remember, like "That Guy Who Crashes

Anyway, I settled in the dust and eventually worked my way past Pizza
Man, and then caught up to Matt after he got hung up on a log.  Later on I
crashed on my sore arm and Pizza Man got around me again.  That's
about when I started running out of energy.  I hadn't worked out much
since Roselawn, and on the last lap I was just trying to finish.  Towards
the end, I could hear what sounded like Matt from behind, but I figured
there was no way he could have caught me.  I'm in much better shape
than him, right?  Wrong.  Two hundred yards from the finish line he came
roaring by me and took 4th place by a couple of seconds.  I learned a
valuable lesson, but it still pissed me off that I lost bragging rights.  Our
buddy Lars got second in the 250 B class.  Matt and I were both shut out
of the trophies and went home, dead tired and blowing out dust boogers
the whole way.
Roselawn, Indiana
Sedalia, Missouri