Moving Right Along......

Hello all. Man, time flies. It is already the end of February and you know what that means? It means all you amateur riders are problem getting ready for the first round of nationals that will kick off in Texas this month. Speaking of how times fly, it seems just like yesterday that I was frequenting the Lake Whitney GNC. You see back them the GNC was in Whitney and not at Oak Hill. I didn't get to experience the Oak Hill track until I rode the plus 25 and Motocross Pro class back in 2005. It is crazy to think that it has been 4 years since I have been there. WOW.

I can remember like it was yesterday the butterflies turning and the anticipation of getting on the line and seeing if all the hard work during the off season paid off. With that, I would like to share a horror story about Lake Whitney and I hope nothing like this ever happens to you!

It was 1995 and I had just moved up to the "big bikes" class off of my 85's. I was riding for Team Green and to save a little money my Mom sent me to Whitney with some close family friends (Chris Wheeler and his dad Chuck). The idea was for us to get there and have a couple of days to practice before the race. I got dropped off in Indio and we loaded up and headed east. Chuck was a mad man and he made what seemed like quick work of the drive. He just powered the 20 some odd hours to Whitney like it was nothing. Chris and I lay in the back of the motorhome being bored and listening to Wheezer and hits like "my name is Jonas" and "Say it ain't so". You remember those right? Anyways, we arrive at the track and we are the only ones there, it was late and dark and we decided to park and get up early for practice the next day. Upon us going to sleep we heard the rain start as a small tap on the roof. By late night, it was a down pour that rocked the motorhome. The rain never stopped. For the next two days we were stuck confined to this motorhome as rain upon rain drenched the track. There was no practice and we were all getting a little "testy" being stuck in the motorhome together. The practice days were called completely off and to make matters worse, we had run out of watewr and supplies in the RV. So now we were stinky, hungry and irratible. What a combination. By the third day we had enough, we hooked the trailer up and went out on foot to scout the most direct and dry line to get out of the track and up the hill to town. It was time to go and we were all ready. Chuck rolled into the throttle and got the RV moving, once we were going there was no stopping and we had that thing pitched sideways and hopping trying to get to freedom. It was all for nothing though as we burried the thing up to the axles in mud, pretty far away from the exit of the track. It was at this time that Chuck was about to lose his mind!

Chuck decided to unload one of the bikes and go look for help. He came back with a tractor in tow and I could tell by the look in his eyes he was determined come hell or highwater to get us out. We had buried this thing so deep that we had to dig on our hands and knees in the mud just to get to a spot on the thing to hook the tow rope. After what seemed like an hour of digging we finally hooked the rope to the RV. I remember the next instructions Chuck gave the poor guy driving the tractor. He told the younger kid to not stop but keep going no matter what. the next 5 minutes may have been the most frightening of my life as the tractor pulled the rope tight, Chuck told the guy to mash the gas and I heard the RV come to life and then........ BAM! the rope, when it got tight ripped the grill right out of the RV. It was NUTS! the guy in the tractor never lifted and Chuck was cursing up a storm. We ran over the grille but kept going. When we were finally pulled to freedom the poor guy on the tractor didn't even get out, he waited for the hook to get taken off the RV and he was gone! No looking back.

the next hour was pretty silent as we grubbed at Whataburger. The races haven;t even come yet and we were all pretty bummed.

Part 2 coming up - The Race!