My old race story:
In the late 70's my dad got me a summer job in a steel mill making union wages at $11.34 an hour. Super great coin for a kid in those days! I bought my first real bike, a 1978 Husky 390 OR. Previous to that I had a Penton Jackpiner and a Yamaha 175. They were clapped out and junk. I sold them both for $300. I had no trailer, nothing to haul my bike in except my dad's old Dodge Aspen. It had a fair sized trunk, and I would lift that old Husky up by myself and tuck the back wheel in the trunk, leaving most of the bike hanging out. I secured it with closeline! I was off to the Hare Scrambles!
There used to be a place called Grand Prix Raceway in Canal Fulton, Ohio. It was a woods course with tight single track, BIG hill climbs, and lots of mud holes. Mud, always lot's of serious mud!
There were always about 200 riders every weekend in all classes. It cost $8.00 to race. The start was a big field with a 100 yard long V-shaped 3ft deep ditch that you lined up behind. With 200 bikes, they would be 3 deep behind the ditch. I was sporting my new "Hi-Point" $120 boots...the kind with the shiney metal shin guards and the leather straps with the holes in them as "buckles".
The flag dropped and an insane 300 yard race with 200 bikes took place to a 20ft wide bottleneck dropping down a steep hill into the woods. It was mayhem at the turn! Unless you were in front, it was always a pile of metal and flesh and would take 5 mins to sort out!
This was in 1980 when the first "long travel" suspensions came out. The cat's ass was now the Husky 430 with 12" of suspension with Ohlins dual rear shocks. My bike had 8" of suspension, but I upgraded to the cool "Fox" shocks. I had just put on a then coolest rear tire a "Metzler".
The flag dropped and I popped the clutch in 2nd gear and jumped the ditch cleanly. I was shocked that I was clicking gears and no one was around me! I made it past the first turn of death and down an impossibly steep muddy hill with my shitty drum brakes.
I raced hard, my forearms got so pumped up my hands wouldn't work after an hour. It was a 6 mile course. Make as many laps as you can in 2 hours! I was my own pit guy. I had my 2 gallon metal can full of Castor Oil premix with my hat on it at a turn near the pits. I pitted myself. I drank a Pepsi with the pull-off tab, stretched out, took a 2 minute break until my hands began to work again, and went on!
It was always a brutal, muddy, hilly, swampy, tight woods course with drownings in 3 ft deep coffee colored slow moving streams. I kept racing as hard as I could until time was up.
They had an old barn where everyone gathered after the race to hear the results. I was sure that I finished and did ok, but not good! There was some guys on the 430's and KDX200's that were smoking!
I shit my pants when they said I finished 5th out of 200 riders and 1st in my class!
On the ride home, my legs and arms cramped up so bad, I was howling in pain!
That's my best race story! Not so good, but it is mine!
In the late 70's my dad got me a summer job in a steel mill making union wages at $11.34 an hour. Super great coin for a kid in those days! I bought my first real bike, a 1978 Husky 390 OR. Previous to that I had a Penton Jackpiner and a Yamaha 175. They were clapped out and junk. I sold them both for $300. I had no trailer, nothing to haul my bike in except my dad's old Dodge Aspen. It had a fair sized trunk, and I would lift that old Husky up by myself and tuck the back wheel in the trunk, leaving most of the bike hanging out. I secured it with closeline! I was off to the Hare Scrambles!
There used to be a place called Grand Prix Raceway in Canal Fulton, Ohio. It was a woods course with tight single track, BIG hill climbs, and lots of mud holes. Mud, always lot's of serious mud!
There were always about 200 riders every weekend in all classes. It cost $8.00 to race. The start was a big field with a 100 yard long V-shaped 3ft deep ditch that you lined up behind. With 200 bikes, they would be 3 deep behind the ditch. I was sporting my new "Hi-Point" $120 boots...the kind with the shiney metal shin guards and the leather straps with the holes in them as "buckles".
The flag dropped and an insane 300 yard race with 200 bikes took place to a 20ft wide bottleneck dropping down a steep hill into the woods. It was mayhem at the turn! Unless you were in front, it was always a pile of metal and flesh and would take 5 mins to sort out!
This was in 1980 when the first "long travel" suspensions came out. The cat's ass was now the Husky 430 with 12" of suspension with Ohlins dual rear shocks. My bike had 8" of suspension, but I upgraded to the cool "Fox" shocks. I had just put on a then coolest rear tire a "Metzler".
The flag dropped and I popped the clutch in 2nd gear and jumped the ditch cleanly. I was shocked that I was clicking gears and no one was around me! I made it past the first turn of death and down an impossibly steep muddy hill with my shitty drum brakes.
I raced hard, my forearms got so pumped up my hands wouldn't work after an hour. It was a 6 mile course. Make as many laps as you can in 2 hours! I was my own pit guy. I had my 2 gallon metal can full of Castor Oil premix with my hat on it at a turn near the pits. I pitted myself. I drank a Pepsi with the pull-off tab, stretched out, took a 2 minute break until my hands began to work again, and went on!
It was always a brutal, muddy, hilly, swampy, tight woods course with drownings in 3 ft deep coffee colored slow moving streams. I kept racing as hard as I could until time was up.
They had an old barn where everyone gathered after the race to hear the results. I was sure that I finished and did ok, but not good! There was some guys on the 430's and KDX200's that were smoking!
I shit my pants when they said I finished 5th out of 200 riders and 1st in my class!
On the ride home, my legs and arms cramped up so bad, I was howling in pain!
That's my best race story! Not so good, but it is mine!
Good story! Physically you were hurting on the way home...mentally you were on top of the world!
She took my first place! There were no transmitters in this race! I remember coming into the pits after the race, signs everywhere saying do not ride in the pits. I had to push my bike about 150 yards. I was too spent to push it! And sooo thirsty! I had no water on me. I went up to a booth as asked if I could pay them later for the water, they were kind enough to say yes. I plopped down against a tree and sat there for about 30 minutes. I was sort of sad and happy at the same time. Happy because I know I kicked the ass of these snotty 20 sumthings that were eyeing me the whole time where I parked before the race. As it turns out there were in the industry and came with their possey with tricked out bikes in lifted blinged trucks. There I was, old lady me in my beater truck with peeling paint and all alone. I almost didnt want to bother trying to race against these young girls. Typically I have friendly conversation with other female racers/riders but these girls wernt like that. They were all about looking "cool" and coming across as tuff. No smiles, friendly nods or conversations. It almost felt like they were laughing at me or wondering if I was really going to race. It made for a tense start. If felt so good passing those bitches
waterfalls so you should be good
I will be working my butt off just to keep the sweep rider in my sites...
I need to go look...
. This was a team race where we had 2 45 mile loops and I did one of the loops twice and my partner did the other. We could ride the same bike or separate. We chose to ride our own steads. So my partner started because he normally is stronger off the starts then me, and I am stronger at the end of races so we thought that would work to our advantage.
