Ignorance is bliss, say those who avoid the truth. The tired old cliché took on personal meaning at the opening round of the Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship (MHSC) near Lebanon. For much of the race I wouldn’t understand why my Kawasaki KX250 engine felt lethargic during certain parts of the course and peppy in others. Had I paused for more than three or four seconds, I might have recognized the issue and parked the bike. Instead, I raced ignorantly and blissfully through rocky, technical trails on the way to a solid finish in a new class.
Regular riding partner Matt Sellers remained sidelined with a broken thumb, so I teamed up with Alton, Illinois native Jeff Smith for the drive to Lebanon. Jeff and I first connected the day I left the Belleville Enduro Team club grounds with a concussion in 1999, and since then he’s become one of a handful of dirt bike friends who I actually see and hang out with away from the motorcycle scene. Jeff has such affection for his motorcycles that some have names, like the Honda CR250 (Vickie) he brought to Lebanon.
We joined fellow Lincoln Landers David Brewster and Mike Goforth, where upon arrival Mr. Brewster had already discovered the menace of jagged rocks littering the staging area. He changed a flat tire on his bike hauler while I backed into a spot next to Mike and others trekking from Illinois. Normally I would have warned the group to pack up and return to their muddy home state if they owned a lick of common sense, but these folks lived just across the border and had spent enough time in the Missouri woods to appreciate the essence of this race.
Today’s pit road conversation starter belonged to a new class for the 2004 season. “A Sportsman” welcomed those who finished 26th through 40th overall last year, with riders gifted a permanent spot on the third row of the starting grid. Regardless of class, riders needed to finish individual races inside the top 20 in order to accumulate points toward an overall ranking for the season. I’d accomplished this a handful of times in 2003 and was awarded numero treinta y tres. When this news reached me over the winter, I proudly strutted into Home Depot, purchased a pair of white adhesive block numbers and stuck a large “33” onto my front number plate. So long, 580.
Gone, too, were my orange motorcycles on the MHSC circuit. Part of the reason I’d taken on the KX250 were two gentleman named Chris: Thiele and Nesbitt. When I began racing the series in 1999, both versions of Chris regularly battled the MHSC’s greatest of all time, Steve Leivan, with their own KX250s. If this pair of Chris could win races on a green machine, then surely I could make the same bike go fast in the woods. So far my KX250 had proven itself in Illinois (and the Illinois-like Knob Noster, Missouri). Today would test the bike in classic Missouri style: Rocky and rough and fast.
After signup and a practice lap, the starting field filled with opening-race excitement, some riders greeting each other for the first time since the season ended last October. Already the A Sportsman class had been conferred a variety of nicknames such as “Not Quite Ready for Primetime” and “A-minus”. We didn’t care, for the third row was our just reward. No more would we fight through the various B classes for trail space, rotating back and forth between starting line rows each race. We’d never have to scan the field for our class name scribbled on pie plates stapled to wooden stakes. We simply cruised into the third row…it belonged to us. If we caught up to any riders in the second row, we were smokin’ fast.
With that bit of extra confidence, I chose a spot beside #29 Steve Crews and #35 Kevin Ruckdeschell, all of us competitors in last year’s Veteran class. A few more former Vets lined up on the third row, including Gary Mittleberg and Elston Moore. The class was stacked with old-guy talent. Young(er) guy talent left first, opening with the AA (Pro) riders blasting off into a grass track, followed by the “Single” A class a minute later. Another 60 seconds passed and the “Special A’s” fired up their engines for the first taste of MHSC dirt in 2004.
And what a flavor it was.
Kevin jumped ahead with a fantastic start, sweeping through turns across the fastest of the grass tracks on the course. I followed well behind, around 8th place, then lost a spot as Mike Goforth went forth and passed by before we entered the woods. Inside the trees, we attacked the singletrack at a pace I found a bit moderate, given the eagerness and exhilaration of the first lap of the first race of the series. But with all the technical obstacles in store for us, I’d keep on cruising at a safe speed, knowing sure well the competitive juices of riders impatiently jockeying for position would open up passes of attrition. And sure enough, the first pass came in the first mile, a gift from none other than Gary Mittleberg. He slid down the edge of an off-camber side hill trail, detoured to the bottom of the hill and paused to rejoin the course.
Gary!
Foxtrot-ing!
Mittleberg!
One of the most experienced veterans anywhere in the MHSC, giving me a free pass. Until now, I don’t think I’d ever seen him make a mistake. Without a hint of hesitation, I squeezed by and set my sights on Steve Crews. A mile into the course, he battled another rider as we entered a long run through a creek bed filled with every imaginable type of rock. Big, small, wet, dry, stationary, moveable, flat, sharp, jagged…you name it, we rode it. And that was just the first of many creeks. The KX250 shrugged off the rough stuff and bounded through the channel, where I caught and passed Steve with a quick burst through the boulders.
Next up was Mike Goforth, a strong rider who, perhaps with a busier racing schedule, could probably work his way into the “real” A class. His left bicep exhibited more athleticism than most of my ill-fated physique and he piloted his bike with the precision of a master welder. From a distance I could make out his motorcycle caught behind a rider struggling through the rocks, slowing his progress enough to close in for a pass. With quick scan ahead, I located a narrow opening to the side of the main line and edged past both riders.
The second creek on the course came next, this one wider, faster and wetter than the first. In 4th gear, I slammed through gravelly whoops and drenched myself in foot-deep water. The KX250 begged for more and I indulged, climbing a steep hill with a tricky left turn near the top. After that, creek #3 appeared with more rocks than the first two combined. To exit the creek, the trail turned hard left and without much real estate to gather momentum, sent us straight up another steep hill. I could only imagine the pending bottlenecks from the B and C classes and silently thanked the MHSC for a third row start.
Despite the many rocky obstacles, much of the course flowed through narrow trails, sharing little of the ATV route from the day before. The Leivans, the first family of MHSC racing, influenced the layout near their Lebanon home and ensured motorcycles would enjoy the singletrack we deserved. Still, every comfortable groove was soon interrupted by a rock ledge, another hideous creek bed or a leaning tree attempting to separate me from my bike.
All of 37 seconds separated the top 10 Sportsmen as we entered the RFID timing checkpoint. Kevin Ruckdeschell led the tightly packed group into the second lap, with me in 7th and Elston Moore in the 10th spot. Within a few quick miles I gave up my position to Gary Mittleberg in the wide, fast creek. Gary powered by on his Yamaha 250cc four-stroke, showing yet again why engine displacement matters so little to a skilled rider. My 250cc two stroke probably out-horsepowered Gary’s by 30%, but many years would go by before I understood how well the smooth delivery of a four stroke engine can thrust a motorcycle over rocky terrain. And as those years elapsed, I would never come to know why a dead ringer for the actor John C. Reilly could ride so darned fast on a dirt bike.
Almost as smooth as Gary’s four stroke engine, my new Hebo hydraulic actuator turned clutch work into butter. After the Belleville, Illinois hare scramble a week earlier, I gave up the cable actuated clutch on the KX250 and installed the Hebo unit. What I lost in aesthetics, the Hebo gave back with an easier pull on the lever and a more KTM-like actuation.
After Gary flew past in the creek, a group of slower riders approached ahead. I cut to the right of a gravel bar and noticed a rather large fallen tree hanging several feet into the creek. In 4th gear, the tree came quickly and so did the impact. As luck would have it, the pointy end of the tree poked the plastic radiator shroud and only ripped it out of its lower mounting bolt, sparing the radiator from damage. I glanced down and saw nothing but a piece of wood wedged between the frame and the kick starter.
Or so I thought.
I slowed to dislodge the wood and continued with an odd sensation that my pants now offered extra ventilation. A short distance later, Kevin Ruckdeschell appeared in the second of the highly technical creek beds, stopped while waiting for Chili Roberts to upright his bike. Earlier in the lap Kevin had lost a few positions after stalling his bike, declaring after the race, “Took me 3/10ths of a second to restart and three guys passed me!” Kevin allowed me to squeeze by and then followed closely. The hard left turn to exit the creek now included a second line up the steep hill. I took the main line and Kevin climbed up the new line to the inside. We met at the top, where Kevin let out a loud whoop to express his joy of good racing. I skirted by and turned up the pace, hoping to put distance between us.
Like so many other hare scrambles, I unknowingly passed riders in my class while charging to 3rd place at the end of the second lap. By now I realized the tree impact had ripped a large hole in my pants, even more obvious with each splash through standing water. Along with a butt-numbing chill, the gripper seat cover began rubbing against bare skin. Who would have imagined by the end of the race I’d be hating on that carefully selected cover, now an aftermarket staple for every one of my dirt bikes?
Halfway through the third lap, now in 2nd place, the KX250’s engine struggled for power in a tight section of singletrack. Much like a dragging rear brake or a chain guide obstruction or, perhaps, a water cooled engine running with no coolant, the anemic throttle response had me pampering the throttle. Yet I charged, rode a gear higher to ease the engine’s burden and pretended nothing was wrong. Even as #38 Todd Corwin approached from behind and passed by, I wouldn’t concede that the engine had been harmed. Instead, I pursued Todd and noticed normal operation each time I’d splash through a creek or standing water on the trail. When engine performance improved, I’d catch back up to Todd, then lose time when the trail dried out and horsepower dropped off.
On the fourth and final lap, I followed Todd into a section of singletrack and paused to examine the rear wheel for anything caught up in it – a small rock or vine or other trail junk dragging and sapping power from the engine – and found nothing. Naturally, Mr. Oblivious didn’t notice the right radiator shroud sticking out a good 3 inches wider than the left shroud. I caught back up to Todd and nearly passed him at the same place Kevin Ruckdeschell and I came together at the top of a steep hill. Todd struggled up the hill, but I couldn’t muster enough momentum to get by. One final attempt, an alternate line at a rock ledge bottleneck, proved unsuccessful. I backed off the throttle in hopes of finishing before the engine expired.
I crossed the finish line about 15 seconds behind Todd, taking 3rd in class and 22nd overall. Back at the pits, I quickly discovered an unsightly, mangled radiator. While riding the bike, I couldn’t see that the tree limb jousted its way between the bottom of the right-side radiator and the exhaust pipe. The pointy branch didn’t actually puncture the radiator but shoved it back far enough to push a coolant hose against the engine, eventually melting a hole which drained all the coolant. The contorted radiator was quite a hit among the Illinois contingent in the pits, who stared in disbelief when I explained how long the engine operated with no coolant. Mike Goforth grabbed a camera and snapped a shot of the radiator, then took a picture of me modeling my butt-baring pants.
Gary Mittleberg picked up where he left off last year in the Vet class by winning the ”A-minus” class. Mike Goforth was fifth-best Sportsman, while K-Ruck was 9th despite pausing a couple minutes to assist a rider who had knocked himself silly. Overall winner Caleb Wohletz, to quote observer Ken Wabel, appeared to be riding a different course and won by nearly six minutes. Former Open B classmate Tracy Bauman finished an outstanding second overall, his best-ever result in the MHSC.
Other notable finishers racing in new classes for 2004 were #587 David Brewster (4th in 250B), #149 Ryan Rohleder stepping up from the Junior class to win 200C, and another former Open B rider #9 David Taylor, 7th in AA. As for Jeff Smith, he piloted Vickie to a 15th place finish in the Open C class. My nameless KX250 not only proved itself a worthy Missouri woods bike, but a durable one at that. Despite running more than half the race with no coolant, the cylinder survived with no permanent damage, and with a new piston and radiator, the engine readied itself for many more races.
