Webe Racing Round #5 • Española Race Report

Racing can be a volatile beast. One race can put you in the lead, the next can put you in the hospital. I had a close call at Española… more on that in a sec.

I’m pretty sure someone didn’t want me to race this one. I’ve been having trouble with my KX450F for the last few weeks. It’s not the bike’s fault — I punched a hole in the clutch cover during an evening mountain ride, and was forced to ride home with the bike dumping oil for miles. It was either that, or have my wife send search and rescue. You decide which is worse…    Anyhow, it hasn’t been right ever since.

I was really hoping I could nurse the bike long enough to get through Sunday’s race, but during the practice lap, it began to make a loud ticking from the top of the motor. This wasn’t your average KX ticking either… this was the ugly, evil, “I’m about to grenade all over the course” kind of ticking. So I parked the bike and pulled the valve cover off to see what was up. Sure enough, there were signs of oil starvation — the cams were grinding into the intake side of the keepers. Not so good…

That should have been my warning to just load up and spectate from the pits, but as luck would have it, Tom Cope had an extra bike that he was more than willing to loan out for the race. What an awesome guy… not many people would loan out a bike for another guy to race on.

Seeing as how I’m leading the series in my class, I really didn’t want to miss this race and forego the points, so I took Tom up on his offer to borrow his bike. I’m back baby!!

I knew I probably wasn’t going to be able to compete for the win on a borrowed bike, but I thought I’d just go out and have fun. It’s not every day I get the chance to put an ’09 KTM 250 two-stroke trough its paces for 2+ hours. I took the bike out for a quick test ride before the race — good to go. Quick air filter change, suite up and get to the line!

The sweet thing about 2-strokes is they start like magic. First kick and that puppy was singin’! I charged to the first corner and was in around 3-4 place — just where I wanted to be. There was a short, 50 yard sprint before the sand wash pinched down to a single line. Brett warned us that it could get sketchy at that point, and to ride cautiously, however, everyone was in full race mode at this point and caution had officially been thrown to the wind.

Just as I approached the narrowing pit area, a rider came charging in on my left side and clipped my bars, which sent me ragdolling down the wash. All I remember was getting clipped, hitting the ground, bouncing a couple of times, getting run over by the guy behind me, and having my borrowed bike land on top of me. I just laid there in a pile waiting for the next rider to grind me into hamburger. Luckily the worst was over.

It’s weird being in a gnarly crash… everything seems to be going in slow motion, yet you can never remember what happened. Details are blurred from memory — I imagine it’s the brain’s defense mechanism to prevent the horror of reliving the moment.

Luckily I was swarmed by spectators pulling the bike off of me and asking “where are you hurt.” It was a relief to know so many people were ready to help. I didn’t really know specifics… all I knew was my left shoulder and hip hurt a lot. A couple of guys rolled me over and helped stabilize my neck and spine. As I started to snap out of the shock of being in a crash, I wanted to get up and keep racing. I kept saying “I’m fine guys, just let me get up. I want to race!” They knew it was the adrenaline talking and did the smart thing and forced me to lay still until the medic had a chance to evaluate my injuries.

As soon as I got to my feet, I knew nothing was broken — I would be able to ride. However, after about half way through the lap, I knew I couldn’t go the full distance. The course was pretty whooped out, and my left shoulder just wasn’t working right. Each time I had to pull on the bars, I could feel it getting worse and worse. I decided to complete a lap and stop to check in with Brett to make sure I would still get points if I wasn’t able to keep going. He gave me the thumbs up… the worst I could finish was sixth, so it wasn’t going to completely damage my points lead.

After heading back to the truck and changing out of my gear, I realized I had a large contusion on my left shoulder blade that was beginning to swell up pretty good. I also had quite a bit of pain in my left pelvis/hip area… I thought I had a hernia. There was also a pretty good gash under my chin… weird because my helmet didn’t have a scratch on it.

I hobbled back to the pit area to spectate and offer my feeble help to incoming riders. The heat was beginning to take it’s toll. Several riders were coming into the pits — not even half way through the race — pulling off their helmets in defeat, or just riding back to their trailers to call it quits. 100 degrees on a hot bike in full gear will have that effect on you.

All in all, it turned out to be an interesting day. I talked to several spectators who witnessed my spectacular get off, and got a first-hand recount of the carnage. I’d like to say ‘thank you’ to those who showed concern and offered their assistance — especially my friend Mark Blue who actually stopped during his race to make sure I was okay.

It’s now a couple of days later and the soreness has really set in. Luckily, there were no major injuries, but I’ve got some pretty impressive battle wounds to show for it. Unfortunately, it’s moments like this that make me question if it’s worth it. I have a wife & child, a job, and responsibilities that extend far beyond my racing hobby. But life is about balance, and without moto, my life would wobble woefully.

So I’ll take this experience and use it to help guide me through future events — it would be a waste not to. I’ll use it to remember that we are all out there to have fun, and all of the other guys who show up on the line putting their trust in the next to ride within their limits. This isn’t our livelihood — it’s a luxury.

I’ll watch your back if you promise to do the same.

Be safe. - Chris