Smithville Lake, Missouri

It's a long, steady drive to some of the best trails in Missouri. In my book, any event north of I-70 is a contender for Missouri Hare Scrambles Championship (MHSC) race of the year, and Smithville is at the top of the list. Sure, it’s 275 miles from home, but all a St. Louisian must do is hop on the interstate, drive west for 3 hours and turn right. The reward for a long day in the truck is sweet singletrack, no ATVs, and on this day, little dust and few rocks.

Clay County Parks & Recreation was again generous enough to provide a portion of its 7,200-acre Smithville Lake property for Round 13 of the MHSC series. Last year’s course here had been completely new, and at that point in the 2002 series I’d already wrapped up the Open B championship, so I played it safe and padded my points lead by working the race. This year I lined up with the Vet class to enjoy 8.5 miles of mostly singletrack, along with a lengthy grass track near the staging area.

Official MHSC scorekeeper Tom Eidam served as trail boss for today’s event, greeting riders at the signup trailer with a smile and assurance that this year would be just as good as 2002. One privilege of his position was leading the rider’s meeting, where Tom explained the unwritten rules of trail etiquette in a way only a seasoned racer does. “If you hear a screaming engine behind you, get the hell out of the way,” he imparted, with further explanation of what might happen to those who chose not to follow his instruction. The legendary Jeff Fredette once suggested the best way to convince an uncooperative rider to move over was to bump his right boot off the foot peg with the motorcycle’s front tire, and do this just before a sharp turn. That way the offending rider wouldn’t be able to hit the rear brake and slow down in time to make the turn. Tom offered no such advice, but the message was clear: Today’s trails would be tight and passing would not be easy.

After Tom’s rider meeting, the starting field filled quickly with racers and spectators thankful the crushing heat of summer had faded into memory. The Midwest is gifted about 10 days a year of such perfect sun and temperatures, and by God we intended to enjoy it. I also planned to enjoy a 3rd row starting position, as the Vet class had finally rotated from the back of the B classes to the front. Only the Pro and A classes would begin before us, leaving me free from the endless passing of slower B riders on the first lap. I’d often marveled how the fastest B riders, after advancing to the A class, could suddenly improve their overall results just by starting each race on the second row. Traffic slows all vehicles, and I hoped to see a lot less of it. Perhaps I could even sneak into the top-20 and earn some overall points.

At 12:30 the Pro class launched toward the first corner at the edge of the open field. Two minutes later I did the same, sprinting through the tree-lined turn in the middle of our Vet class pack. Matt Weis jumped ahead and led inside the woods, while Gary Mittelberg approached from behind. A fixture in the MHSC series, Gary bore a remarkable resemblance to the actor John C. Reilly and was just as likable. Whenever he came calling in a race, Gary’s passes reflected his easygoing demeanor. If not for the rocks and trees and bone-breaking risks of a hare scramble, I would have expected a pat on the shoulder and a pleasant greeting as he eased ahead of me.

As it were, engines tend to do most of the talking when riders beg to pass, and Gary’s steady tone clearly spoke “I’m behind you….please move”, followed by a short burst of throttle as if to add “Whenever it’s convenient for you”. Hare scramble etiquette suggested I didn’t really have to move over, since Gary competed in my class and was expected to earn his pass. But with his speed and experience, he made quick work of me at an inconspicuous corner-shortening cut along the inside of a curve. I’d seen that spot during practice and missed it on this opening lap, grimacing when Gary used it to squeeze by.

Normally this would have been the moment when Gary disappeared, as he often did, but he’s been around a hare scramble or two and knew this was a race of endurance. With no need to push it on the first lap, he cruised. A few miles later, Gary still hadn’t vanished into the trees, and I actually repassed him by taking a quicker line through a slow turn. Before I could convince myself I’d finally found a way to keep up with the Vet class elites, Gary causally hopped over a log lying nearly parallel to the trail, just before a sharp curve. Most riders, including me, took the long way around the log. Gary’s shortcut put him ahead again, where I realized he was only toying with me. Nowhere did I possess his speed, and even after following him to the grass track, where he inexplicably slowed to allow me by, I knew he could put minutes between us whenever he chose to crack open the throttle. Today I could only hope for the divine intervention of a flat tire, which took out Gary in the grass track.

Gary’s race might have ended, but Steve Crews had picked up the pace and closed in from behind. Unlike me, Steve had long ago figured out how to go fast in the grass and wasted no time sweeping around me on the outside of a curve. For years I’d read about the European grass track style, where wide approaches carry more speed and momentum through turns. Yet I defaulted to inside lines, unable to come to terms with the shortest distance between two points not always being the quickest. With great effect, Steve demonstrated why this continued to hold true. He beat me to the scoring trailer by 5 seconds, then vanished into the woods.

Steadily I worked my way through the Vet class, while some of the faster riders in the B classes clawed their way by me around the midpoint of the race. Zach Bryant, full of energy on his high-revving Suzuki RM125, closed in with plenty of warning. His little dirt bike may have been the lightest handling motorcycle on the course, if only he could muster the stamina to shift gears every 0.8 seconds and fan the clutch 4,000 times in two hours. But if ever a rider’s personality fit that of the dirt bike, Zach and his RM125 were two peas in a pod. He would advance to the A class in 2004.

Next up was Adam Ashcroft in the 250B class, trailing back a short distance from the downed tree where Gary Mittelberg hopped around me on the first lap. Just before the log, I’d stalled the engine, delaying Adam as he led a small group of faster riders. Adam had clearly listened to Tom Eidam’s instructions at the rider’s meeting, yelling to move out of the way. I did, eventually and unintentionally, taking a high line along an off-camber trail. Handlebars cut down to 30 inches can get me through many narrow places, but the two trees spaced 28 inches apart asked too much. I slowed to a crawl, jerked the bars to the left and right to sneak through, and watched as Adam and the other riders stuck to the main line and left me.

On the final lap, more B classers caught up and searched for opportunities to pass. I’m not one to make a huge effort to slow down or pull off the trail to allow a faster rider to pass, but I do look ahead for split lanes where I can reduce speed and let the other guy pass by fairly easily. This works well when the other rider sees the split…not as much when he follows me. I took a wide line around a corner, expecting the faster B rider to cut to the inside. Instead, he shadowed me through the slower line. When I pulled off to the side to let him by, he smacked his front tire into my rear tire. A bit miffed, I was, although not as much as when a Pro class rider ran over my boot as he lapped me a few minutes later.

Near the end of the race, #454 Mark Green stalled his bike and restarted just as I passed by in the woods. In the starting field, I was sure I’d seen him lined up in the A class, and when he approached from behind in the grass track, I let him by. No reason to hold up an A rider, right? After the race, when the results showed him finishing one position higher than me in the Vet class, I realized my mistake. Matt Weis had already wrapped up the class win a few minutes before Mark and I checked into the scoring lane, with Steve Crews close behind in second place. Meanwhile, in the 250B class, Adam Ashcroft demonstrated his Northwest Missouri riding skills with a top-20 overall finish, while the holeshot king himself, Doug Stone, secured the overall win in the Pro class. Youngster Tyler Ruckdeschell, son of Vet class rival Kevin, demonstrated the future of the MHSC with his first ever Junior class win.

My 4th place finish only confirmed what I already knew of the 2003 season. I lacked the speed to win against these crafty Vet class racers and earn my way into the A class. The MHSC advancement rules required consistent top-20 overall results, and my finishes were decidedly inconsistent. Regardless, I planned to complete the series strong and come out swinging in 2004 with a new, green ride.