Big Barn Harley-Davidson
presents the 1st Annual
Ride for the Cure
Benefiting Susan G.
Komen for the Cure

Saturday, October 4, 2008
Ride is Rain or Shine

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Hare scrambles

A day of creek beds, logs, hills, mud, rocks and ruts By Tony Wenck

In recent issues of Throttler magazine I’ve talked about all the Off Highway Vehicle (OHV) parks that are popping up in Iowa. While it is a great thing for Iowa riders, I don’t really take advantage of it that much. I usually head to the races on the weekends. I thrive on competition — mostly when racing motorcycles, but it bleeds into other aspects of my life. If I take too much time off from racing I get antsy. I become miserable and seem to do a good job of making people around me feel the same. There are two types of racing I do: Motocross and Hare scrambles. Let me describe what racing a Hare scramble is like for me. The day before: I start chugging as much water as I can from the time I get up to the time I go to bed. I keep a gallon jug of water with me all day. I get some looks from people in the office but you have to put as much fluid in your body as you can. I also start dreading the start of the race. The night before: I pack my gear bag and make sure I have everything in its place; goggles — check, tear-offs — uh oh, I’m out! It’s too late to go get some. This is a sinking feeling. Now, I know I have to borrow from someone at the races. It’s not fun to walk the pits before the race and ask if they have exactly the right model of tear-offs for my goggles, especially, when I did the same thing two weeks ago. I’m not sure why I do this. I amaze myself every time I race because it’s always something like this with me. But, you know, I’ve only raced for about 20 years, so why would I figure it out now? I try to hit the hay very early before a race. It can be tough to sleep if I’m excited about the race, but I at least make the effort. Usually I just lay there and think about the start. Race Day: The alarm clock is set for 7 a.m. There’s no need for it, though. I’ve been awake since 5:30 a.m. I lay there as long as I can but my kidneys are so beat up from racing all these years I’ve got to get up and find the bathroom. I’m excited it’s race day for about a minute. Then I start thinking about the tear-offs and it’s mostly just, “I need to hurry up and get there.” This is when the butterflies start swarming in my stomach. I load up my bike, tools, bike stand, fuel can, gear bag, and I’m on my way. I stop at the local gas station for the essentials: fuel in the truck and bike, Power Bars, another gallon of water and Midol. Yes, the same Midol that’s made for aiding in women’s menstrual cramps. No need to giggle. But it works. I get to the races and I have to find the porta-potti first thing. This is by far my least favorite thing about the races. All those butterflies swarming in my stomach have taken their toll, and the gallon of water I’ve guzzled down since I’ve been awake has to go somewhere. Apparently, everyone has a messed-up stomach on race day and the porta-potti is the nastiest thing you will ever encounter. I find my way to the sign-up area. I see the same old guys telling the same lies about how fast they are — or were. I sign up and start the hunt for tear-offs. Sometimes I find them, many times I don’t. A little thing like that can change the whole complexion of the race. When I don’t find them, I give up and head down to the start. Now, in motocross everyone waits for the starting gate to drop with their bikes wide open. When it falls you drop the clutch and muscle your way, elbows up, through 39 other guys to the first turn. I’ve done this since I was six. I have no problem with this. In Hare scrambles it’s different. Everyone sits in a line with dead engines and their foot on the kick starter. Its dead quiet, an eerie feeling, the calm before the storm, if you will. Then, with no warning, a starter gun goes off and everyone pops it (hopefully first kick) and heads for the trees. This may sound less exciting than sitting there with your bike wide open but it makes me nervous. My bike seldom starts on the first kick and I have to play catch-up the whole first lap. You get either mud on your goggles, with no tear-offs, or a cloud of dust thicker than any fog you have ever driven in. I always manage to get stuck behind some really great starter that goes about half as fast as the pace I want to go. Its tight woods and you have to either be patient for them to move (many won’t), monster-truck over them (this doesn’t make friends), or get creative and make your own line off the trail (this can hurt). Over the last couple years, my attitude about making new lines has changed. I used to sacrifice my body, my bike (the same as sacrificing my wallet), or any kind of friendship I may have at the time, or the possibility of having in the future with the rider in front of me. I would slam myself into the slower rider or a tree or whatever it took to find the front of the pack on the first lap. I have to tell you, every time I raced with this mentality I would go home with a twisted-up bike, bruises and cuts on my body. I’m thirty now, and I have a different program. I do the best I can and try to be patient for opportunities to pass. Plus, less apologies. About half way, or an hour into the race, my mind starts to wander. This is when I am reminded to focus because I usually hit a tree, or the ground, or both. At a race this spring I was almost certain there was an elf with a baseball bat hiding in the woods. I would be ducking my head through some evergreen tree branches and blam! Next lap, same thing. I never saw him, but I’m sure he was there. You start to think to yourself, “Why am I doing this? This hurts!” When I see the finish it’s almost always bittersweet. I’m happy it’s over, but did I ride my best? Maybe I could have done better if I was more aggressive on the first lap. Maybe I could have gone faster if I would have remembered tear-offs and I had clear vision more than half a lap. Maybe that elf wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me with the baseball bat. Its funny, after all these years, I go through the same emotions throughout the race-day. The Hare scrambles are really great because, for the most part, everyone sticks around afterwards to celebrate at the awards ceremony. It’s always more fun when you do well, of course, but hearing what other riders think about particular sections that you struggled with is always good. Everyone has to race the same track and that’s what makes dirt bike racing great. On the way home your body starts to really ache, your muscles are freaking out, and you’re looking at your twisted-up bike in the rear view mirror. You can’t wait for the next race. Upcoming Hare scrambles in Iowa August 3, Mount Pleasant September 21, Maquoketa October 12, Atalissa For more info on Hare scrambles log on to www.iera22.com