The Crash Report: Hardwood Hills, BJEC Round 3, 2012
Friday; with a mere mention that I was headed to Missouri to race and the offer of a ride with AC, Jeremy Thomas agreed to come. He had poison ivy already and was only mildly reluctant. But I saw the glimmer in his eyes. Saturday; Antics and mayhem ensue early as I roll into his driveway and we realize we need to go back to my house AND his shop as we both have forgotten things. Jeremy does his best Bobby Possumcod impression and we stop at Sonic for 2 RT 44 Dr. Peppers. This will be a recurring theme throughout the weekend. We finally arrive at Matt Coffin’s house about 40 minutes behind schedule. Matt doesn’t care, he usually runs about 43 minutes late so we were right on schedule as far as he knew. I have already farted 16 times, also a recurring theme. All loaded and ready to go in the mom-mobile we hit up a BK for some pre race fuel of optimum quality and talk to a random stranger about how awesome Zink ranch was. Jeremy is just about to get the jumper cables out to zap himself so we depart with haste and are quickly greeted by Brady Meador on the turnpike. He gives me the bird as he goes by in the slow lane so I do what any self respecting Okie boy does. I tell Coffin to floor it as I drop tro’ and moon him out the passenger side window. Brady stares for a minute before reacting, then calls to tell me I need to wipe. I get self conscious and ask Matt to pull over. I have farted another 12 times. Jeremy is wearing jumper cables clamped to his nips, the other ends are buried in the floorboard, and I can only assume he has them hooked to the stereo as he is rhythmically rocking back and forth with a gas mask on his head. Coffin is rock steady and checking the mileage to the next adult bookstore with the vigilance of Magnum PI.
By the time we roll onto location, I have made us take at least 2 detours, once on a hunch for a good gas station and another because I suddenly realized that I did not have enough pre-mix. Heckling occurs about my over-use of petroleum products until I point out that I haven’t had to add coolant to my bike since 1993. They swear I am confused as to what their talking about but I saw that they were depressed about their 4 stroke steeds already and left it be. I get us there with another Sonic stop, Jeremy was looking pale. Just after arriving I watch a group of people walk across the dirt road through the pits and realize they have a Baja 1000 worthy dust cloud following them. I panic and try to distract everyone in my group with a little dancing jig but they see past my distractions and start complaining. I remind them that dust knocks poo particles out the air so they don’t have to worry about my gas, I farted 3 more times waiting to pay the gate fee and sign the release form. We get camp together, and Captain Awesome rolls and I call him over to camp by us. Capt. Awesome rides a KLR 650, He rides it to races, races it, and rides it home. He looks like a pre-historic creature dragging that huge cock and ball assortment around behind him. Capt. Awesome hangs out with us most of the evening. I almost felt bad sharing stories because anything we had paled in comparison to his masochistic enduro lifestyle. David Knight is a pussy to me after hanging with Capt. Awesome.
After dinner, Jeremy and Matt and I all go on walkabout. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was my gas, but when we found “The Wall” from the Ozark 100 Miler I was consumed with a desire to ride it and put it on my calendar right then. It reminded me of that hot chick I ran into awhile back. I knew she was going to hurt me but I didn’t care. I got up the next morning with all kinds of scratches and bruises and had a glorious story to tell about it too! Once back at camp Jeremy’s Sonic drink was running low and he was complaining about his poison ivy. I blew cig smoke at him and told him to tighten his foot binders. His whimpering subsided when he realized that he could watch the Thunder game on his phone. We didn’t see him for another 3 hours. I went to sleep but woke up at 4:15 with the most horrible pee pains ever. I am very confused as to why I can’t make it through the night at an enduro without peeing. It’s annoying and it’s rude of my bladder and prostate to conspire against me like this, I have races to win. As I get up I realize that Jeremy is lying in his sleeping bag, in the dirt, in front of the tent. A truer enduro rider you will never see. Poison Ivy, sleeping on the ground, jumper cables. He didn’t even bring a bag for his stuff, just through a set of riding gear in the back of the truck and said “hurry up pussy”. I’m sure Jeremy’s dreams are filled with Clint Eastwood and Bobby Possumcod having strong political discussions while drinking Rt. 44 Dr. Peppers. I pee next to Jeremy’s CRF450 and go back to sleep… but not before Matt and I have a small farting contest.
Holy crap its 6:30am Sunday morning! I better get up and get in line for biscuits and gravy. I rush over, hoping I don’t have to stand in line like I did for the steak dinner the night before. I’m lucky and get food quickly. After eating I go back to camp and kick Jeremy. He mumbles something about my mother a dog and dairy queen and throws the sleeping bag over his head. At this point we all take turns spooning with him and taking funny pictures. Capt. Awesome returns for a special photo, And Jeremy complained about a tweak in his neck and a black eye all day. We all get geared up AFTER the riders meeting and we make fun of everyone with mis-matched gear. Jeremy rides around camp repeatedly asking everyone why they have chosen to ride something other than a CRF450. He is startled to see such odd things like KTMs with weird numbers like 200, 300, and 350 on the side and almost passes out when some fellow rides up on a gas gas. I’m just as confused, I don’t think anyone needs anything other than a YZ125 or a YZ250 for the fatties. Matt is just confused and makes Elvis faces at his bike hoping it will start. Somehow it does and we are all shocked that even though it’s a 4 stroke, it doesn’t sound like it’s going to blow up today. The dust at the starting line is thick and after we take off I almost instantly vomit. Maybe it was the dust, maybe it was because the water in my camelback has been in there since sometime in March, no one knows. I keep the biscuits and gravy on the inside and continue my ride. As I pull into the first test, I see Brady Meador ride off back towards camp. It almost looked like he had a tail and it was between his legs. I find Matt, and we laugh about passing Jeremy on the side of the trail 2 miles in.
1 loop down, 2 to go. I pull into the camp and Jeremy and Brady are sitting there, cleaned up and smiling. Neither of them made it more than 3 miles. I gas up, and really try to talk myself out of going to the second loop. But matt left, and I did have fun for at least 2 of the 20 miles. I hem, haw, and smoke a cig… this makes me 1 minute late to the re-start. Darn. The second loop is much like the first, just a little longer and a little gnarlier. Very little happens, up, down, rocks, roots, up, rocks, down, roots, ouch my shoulder, rocks, roots, up, down, done. Yay! I pulled a massive bubba scrub right into a tree coming out of a creek that was pretty awesome. Someone should have told the camera crew where that was. It only felt like it would have been 2 miles from camp via the access road we kept going across. At the end of the second loop I felt pretty good, but I was kind of hoping that matt would chicken out. It had been a long time since he ate and i was almost sure he would quit. But he didn’t, he even went to the line early! Now its time to tighten up the nipple clamps and get it on.
I reluctantly went out for my third loop. I reminded every check worker that I wouldn’t tell on them if they just wrote me down 20 minutes late to each remaining test. I was a little unsure of the clubs goal at this point. I was pretty confident in my lack of skill, speed, or endurance… I didn’t need another loop to prove it to everyone else too. I’m petitioning for Expert Short course to be brought back.
So Jeremy crashed out, Matt beat me, and I cried myself to sleep. The ride home was fairly uneventful aside from having to stop at 3 sonics, and a Taco Bell. I farted another few dozen times maybe, and tried to use the bathroom at a Joplin gas station. There were people milling about and the stall wall looked like swiss cheese so I just turned and left that establishment. Jeremy really tried to find a craigslist deal to be had on the way home, but came up empty handed. When we all got home, the dogs barked, the peasants rejoiced and all was quite.