2003 Race Reports
Missouri Mulekicker

Hell on Wheels
May 4, 2003
6th of 8 in Open A
2nd of 6 in Vet (MHSC)
Why can I ride 2 classes? Let me explain.

Diary of Events of 5/4/03:

6:10 a.m.
Wake-up call. Eat breakfast and check Intellicast radar summary on
internet. Shades of green, yellow, red, orange, and that was just my Lucky
6:48 a.m.
Begin loading bike and gear into truck. Revolutionary idea hits me like
Butterbean's gloves against Knoxville's head: why not bring two pairs of
goggles today? Begin search for missing pieces to spare goggle/roll-off
parts. Remember that one of the parts now needed may have been
discarded in the kitchen trashcan last week. Kitchen floor covered with 5
days worth of garbage.
7:12 a.m.
Missing goggle/roll-off part found on workbench in garage, in plain sight.
7:13 a.m.
Rain begins.
7:15 a.m.
Finish loading bike and gear. Having second thoughts about breaking out
brand new AXO boots for this race. Depart for Kahoka.
7:26 a.m.
I-64 appears more like a river than a highway. An H2 passes me pulling a
shirtless guy on a wakeboard. Actually, it was a Blazer pulling a trailer, but
who could tell.
9:17 a.m.
Welcome to Hannibal, referred to in the Rand-McNally Pointless Guide to
Completely Irrelevant Factoids as "City of 13 Speed Limit Changes." Still
9:28 a.m.
Rain ends.
9:30 a.m.
Rain begins again.
10:13 a.m.
Arrive at the Burkhart Farm; make a run for signup shed. Only MHSC
regular in sight is Tom Eidam at the signup table.
10:15 a.m.
The Illinois guys are laughing, having fun setting up in the rain. Mud is
their friend, their ally, their means by which to humble the Missouri
contingent, most of who are enjoying the comforts of their dry, heated
10:54 a.m.
Ray Osia, MHSC #370, stops by on his KTM to say hello. Ray is wearing
the orange vest of a course worker. Ray is working the race. Ray appears
to have made the smart choice today.
11:14 a.m.
Deposit gas jug at usual location next to the northwest part of the pit area,
along with a Ziplock-sealed set of spare goggles.
11:30 a.m.
P.A. announcement for riders' meeting.
11:31 a.m.
Another riders' meet announcement.
11:32 a.m.
I think Mike really wants to get the riders' meeting started.
11:37 a.m.
Riders' meeting uneventful. Course described as 8 miles long.
12:02 p.m.
Proceed to starting area in light drizzle. Open A class starts on 2nd row,
right behind the Pro's. Yeah, cool. Recognize familiar face of Lee
Lankutis, D-17 fast guy, a few bikes to my right. Will be the last time I see
him all day. He is still fast.
12:08 p.m.
Drizzle turns into downpour, complete with thunder and large bolts of
lightening. I visualize the headline in next month's Dirt Rider magazine:
Race Field Shockingly Fast at Kahoka National Hare Scramble.
Enduro jacket not waterproof around arms. Getting very wet very fast.
12:17 p.m.
Still waiting to start. Cold. Wet. Envious of guys with pit crews holding
large umbrellas over them. My ass, formerly the only dry part of my body,
is now wet as the rain trickles down my seat. Fred Andrews, top dog in the
pro class, arrives fashionably late and assumes the inside position.
12:19 p.m.
Pro class takes off, spreading high, arcing plumes of grass and mud, all in
my direction. My goggles are now completely saturated and virtually
useless before the race has even begun.
12:20 p.m.
We're off...covered in mud within the first 100 yards. Goggles cloud my
12:20:13 p.m.
Approximately 200 yards into the course, in the high-speed open area
next to the pits, I attempt to remove the tear-off I had carefully taped over
my roll-offs to shield them from a first-turn mud bath. What has proven to
be a very smart idea in the past turns into a stupid one as I pull off not
only the tear-off, but the goggles as well. No time or desire to stop and put
them back on. Goggles get tossed over the pit-row fence, which is the last
I'll ever see of them.
12:20:18 p.m.
Fast guy with bad start makes up time and passes me just before our
entry into the motocross track. Shotgun blast of mud flies into both of my
unprotected eyes. Somehow manage to navigate the mud/sawdust track,
but it is in the best shape it will be for the whole day and will only get
12:22 p.m.
Into the woods we go, and the ATV's have made some nice berms for us.
Spectators watching near the pits as I slip-slide around the turns and
head out into the first of several open fields.
12:23 p.m.
Open fields are already nasty, and I'm only about the 25th bike to pass
through. Back into the woods, the trails are muddy but passable. Front
brake virtually disappears. I blame it on those lousy Brembo's but in reality
the mud has already eaten away all that was left of the brake pads.
12:30 p.m.
Second pass through the motocross track, just a simple on-an-off
straightaway that takes us down a hill and back up, then into the woods.
Bike struggles to make it up the hill in the deep mud/sawdust.
12:41 p.m.
Third, and longest, pass through the motocross track. Not so bad, but I
have to remind myself we're only on the first lap and I got a head start on
most of the field by riding the Open A class.
12:53 p.m.
Kevin Ruckdeschell cheers me on near the end of the first lap. Kevin
decided not to break in his brand new 300EXC on the Kahoka course. A
wise man.
12:54 p.m.
Start of 2nd lap. Course in not-so-great shape now. At the far end of the
pits, a nice lady helps me put on the fresh set of goggles I had left next to
my gas jug. She suggests that I might not be wearing them 20 minutes
from now.
1:01 p.m.
Course is deteriorating rapidly, with wheel-deep ruts developing in many
places. Rain had subsided a bit on the first lap but is now pouring down
so hard that I can't see much of anything. That nice lady was correct -
goggles are now off.
1:13 p.m.
Course is getting interesting as water fills the gullies and low spots.  
Burkhart has done a good job of routing the course around the deepest
parts of the creeks.
1:22 p.m.
In a very narrow section of woods, I come up on a stuck rider on a
Yamaha and attempt to move around him, getting my own bike stuck in
the process. The Yamaha guy helps me out and I am now obligated to
help him out. Fortunately, a simple push on the back of his bike is all that
is required to un-stick his bike. Approximately 100 feet later, like a guided
missile unable to abort, I head straight down the center of a long, deep rut
and come to an abrupt halt. Luck is on my side, as I can see the next
checkpoint ahead. One of the course workers takes pity on me and helps
me extricate my bike from the rut. He asks me to tell the guys at the main
checkpoint that something needs to be done about the wooden bridge.
What wooden bridge? I have no recollection of any wooden bridge, but at
this point every trail is a little river in itself, so the bridge could have been
concealed by rushing water. I agree to relay the course worker's
message...I'm sure they'll get right on it.
1:40 p.m.
Motocross track is horrible. A couple of times the bike nearly comes to a
complete stop on the uphills, wheel spinning in 2nd gear, throttle wide
open. At the same time I'm cursing the truckloads of sawdust added to the
track, I have to admit that the track wouldn't be passable without it. But it
gives me a good excuse to try out creative new combinations of various
four-letter words.
1:51 p.m.
Second lap complete. Nice lady helps me fuel the bike and I dump my
worthless goggles next to the gas jug. As I head toward the big ravine just
past my makeshift pit area, I pause to check out the lines. I pick one just
to the left of the main line, which looked a bit nasty. As I start the descent
down into the ravine, I can hear a guy behind me coming up fast and
yelling to make his presence known. As I'm about halfway to the bottom,
he charges down the ravine, barely missing me on my right and takes the
main line at a speed I wouldn't have attempted even if the ground were
perfectly dry. By now the main line is full of water a couple feet across,
and there's no way to tell how deep the rut is. Had it been deep enough,
the rut would have stopped his bike and thrown him into the opposite side
of the ravine. Apparently that's a risk this guy was willing to take. He slams
into the bottom of the ravine with a huge splash of water, somehow stays
on the bike, and his momentum shoots him up the other side. By the time I
make it up the other side and out of the woods (a couple seconds later, at
most), the guy is already around the first turn of the grass-turned-mud
track about 200 yards ahead. Unreal, those pros. I attempt to go fast
using the same general lines as this guy and come ever-so-close to
burying the bike in a 2-foot rut in the middle of the field. Not sure how I
made it out of there.
2:07 p.m.
Bike seat is very slippery and I'm sliding backwards on even the smallest
of hills. Hard to keep it going straight, or going at all. Front and rear
brakes are pretty much gone, but the mud gives me enough natural
braking power to make due and besides, I could probably walk faster than
the speeds I'm attaining in the woods. The sound of the wheels passing
over the slop is like taking handfuls of mud and continuously squeezing it
out through your fingers. Most of the trails in the woods are now two ruts -
a deep one down the center where wheels have passed, and a shallow
one to the side, created from the boots of guys extending their legs for
2:10 p.m.
Good news: the rain has finally stopped.
2:25 p.m.
Long run through motocross track not so fun. Actually, it just plain sucks.
2:29 p.m.
Around an easy turn in a grass/mud field, ever-so-slightly off-camber, my
bike refuses to go straight. The back wheel spins in the heavy clay and
encourages me to do donuts. Around and around I go. But now is not the
time or place for that, and I urge the bike to behave.
2:33 p.m.
K-Ruck #94, still standing near the motocross track, shouts encouragingly
that I'm in second place. Had I been Kevin, I would have been long gone
at this point, somewhere warm and dry. But Kevin stuck around because
that's the kind of guy he is.
2:34 p.m.
Third lap complete. I stop to clean off my watch and it says I've been
riding for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. Decision time...to go again or not
to, that is the question. I decide to go again because I don't want to be a
quitter.  But I'd really like to quit.
2:35 p.m.
The big ravine just after the pits has a couple guys stuck at the bottom. I
take a wide alternate route to the left and somehow make it up the other
2:42 p.m.
First major challenge of this lap, and I stop the bike to evaluate my
options up a small hill with many deep, water-filled ruts. No good ways
around. The bike is turned off and steaming so much that I can barely see
the radiators. Chris Nesbitt comes by and tortures his engine getting
through this section. I decide I'm done torturing my bike and body and
search for a way out. I walk down the hill to a creek and see that there are
trails here and there. I go back to the bike, coast down the hill and drop
the bike down into the creek. After a few minutes it stops steaming, so I
fire it up and follow the unmarked trails. Eventually I find my way back to
the pits.
2:49 p.m.
Search begins for goggles thrown over the fence.
2:56 p.m.
Search for missing goggles ends, unsuccessfully.
3:17 p.m.
Bike loaded up; rain begins again. The positive side to riding in the rain is
that there's plenty of water to keep some of the mud from accumulating on
the bike. The negative part is that my enduro jacket didn't repel any mud
and now it weighs about 10 pounds. Another downside is that I am
saturated all the way down to my underwear. Looks like I'm goin'
commando for the ride home. While changing into dry clothes, occurs to
me this is the first time in many years I've been buck naked inside a
vehicle. Also occurs to me this wasn't what I had envisioned as my next
buck naked experience inside a vehicle
3:31 p.m.
Packed up and heading for home...to heck with the results. Heat turned all
the way up in the truck. Still shivering.
6:45 p.m.
Home. Warm. Dry. Shower. Underwear (finally). Sleeeeeep.
Kahoka, Missouri