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Place:
DNF
Site: Bridgeport, TX
Current Standing: 6th,
313 points
DNF. In the racing world, this means "Did Not Finish".
It's the most ignominious of racing fates. Prior to Sunday, I had only DNFed once in my TCCRA career, at Gholson in '97 when my piston fried with just over one lap to go.
TCCRA race #2806 was held at Twin Hills Recreation area just outside Bridgeport, Texas.
The week preceding the race had been filled with rain and/or drizzle.
Therefore, I anticipated that ground conditions might prove to be a dicey proposition.
Upon arrival, I was convinced that this would not be the case. Saturday was very windy, providing nature's own helicopter effect, drying the soil.
Woo hoo! On the other hand, the terrain at Twin Hills is about as polar opposite as it gets in terms of what I like.
Quite technical, very one-lined, and low-speed. Well, there's always hope that they've laid out something a
little different this time, isn't there? Saturday's first practice lap squarely quashed that notion.
Squashed it like a grape. The race course was, as usual, technical, low-speed, and one-lined.
The effort on the part of the promoter was certainly there, but he just doesn't have much to work with at Twin Hills.
I guess it just adds validity to what one of my favorite philosophers, Butt-Head, put forth when he said, "You can't polish a turd, Beavis".
At least it would be a morning race for me. Time for the pre-race checklist.
Raisin Bran? Check. Lots of liquid ingested? Check.
Hands taped? Check. Pre-race power-dum…well, never mind.
Liquefied, taped, and ready to avenge my sorry effort at Muenster, I headed for the starting area.
A good start would be important due to the very limited opportunity for passing on the turd, er, I mean, race course.
The green flag flew, and…well, dammit…uncle! I give up. I am resigned to the fact that I shall never again get a decent jump off the line.
Must be a deterioration of my reactions due to advancing age. As I (and the rest of the 125 expert class) screamed into the first woods section, there may have been one or two riders behind me.
I settled in behind fellow sorry-starter Nathan Price (J98) and focused on my race strategy of remaining calm and avoiding mistakes on the technical terrain.
I stayed right with Nathan, who was hot on the heels of Brian Mullen (J95), as we freight-trained through the woods.
I had someone right on my tail as well, though I never glanced back to see who it was.
A couple of miles in Mullen blew a turn, and Nathan and I slipped past.
Then Nathan got by Dwayne Gensler (J36), but I was able to keep him in sight.
The group of us stayed wheel-to-wheel for the first several miles, then hit a rare open stretch.
I gassed it hard to try and maintain pace with Nathan and attempt to get past Dwayne.
Toward the highway we went, then u-turned and headed in the other direction.
I was gaining ground when disaster struck. The bike started acting like it was fouling a plug.
Crap. Away went Nathan and Dwayne, and blowing by me were Mullen and Darren Fleming (J30).
Well, isn't this just swell? A few turns later the motor gave up completely.
This development constituted "injury". "Insult" would appear later.
I moved the bike off the trail, and became a spectator. Hey, there's Mike!
Hi Mike! Bye Mike! Here comes Bryan! How ya doin? See ya!
Hey, there's the famous Patman!
Go get 'em, webmaster/Team Patman Racing President!
About twenty minutes after resigning myself to five points, a spectator came by to see if I was OK.
I told him I thought I'd fouled a plug, and he ever-so-kindly offered me a ride back to camp to get another.
(Thanks again buddy if you're reading this!)
Maybe I can get in two laps and receive last-place points. We arrived back in the camping area and I spotted 1999 Over 30 Amateur champion Rob Cook spectating near the barrels area, and he set off for our camp to retrieve a plug.
He returned and we headed for my disabled scooter. Being a wheels-off dunderhead, I directed him up the wrong road.
Oh well, no hurry. We finally got on the correct road and found my poor lonely motorcycle.
Rob removed the plug and I took a look. Uh-oh. Cocoa-brown.
Looks like five points after all. I pushed on the kick-starter and found…not much resistance.
"We have catastrophic cylinder failure". Ain't this just a peach?
Rob returned to camp for a towing apparatus. Meanwhile, I pushed the bike out to the road and waited.
Rob arrived and we hooked the tow-rope to my impotent scooter. This set the stage for my only crash of the day.
The road at this spot was a bit of a downhill slope. Rob eased out the clutch and pulled forward.
Well, apparently due to the downhill slope, after my bike eased forward, it lurched forward towards Rob's.
Then in a wheels-off moment fit for a Keystone Cops movie, I applied just a
bit too much front brake (of course, I had neglected to remember that
any is too much when being towed), my front wheel jerked to the right, and I was pitched over the bars and off the bike.
This would, of course, constitute the aforementioned "insult".
The remainder of the tow was uneventful, with the exception of the sneering stares from people along the way.
I swear I heard several of them whisper, "DNF". This race obviously is not going to be a positive development for me in the points chase.
I've now lost all contact with the top five, and have lost the cushion I had previously held over seventh place.
Curtis Pace (J8) finished 2nd on Sunday to move into 7th overall and is now a scant 25 points behind me.
He's going awfully fast these days and it will be difficult for me to hold him off.
Epilogue: Monday's top-end tear-down revealed, in order: no coolant, a melted head gasket, and some stripped nikasil plating in the cylinder. The cylinder will have to be re-plated, but there does not appear to be any gouging.
