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It's no mirage: Desert Racers offer help to stranger
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Posted by novakdean Wed Jan 10, 2007 15:22:03 PST
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Since the writing of my last column, I rode my ATV in “The Parker 250” and have become a true desert racer. 

The odd thing is, this new title of mine doesn’t seem to fit. Maybe I should refer to myself as a “pretend desert racer." 

Don’t misunderstand, I went the whole distance, I even finished second in my class.  I don’t get to brag about this one though — there were only three of us in my category — quad-solo. The guy that beat me did it by a full 45 minutes. 

Anyway, after five and a half hours on my buckboard ATV, I’ve decided that I may not be cut from the desert racer’s cloth.

 

I’m both drawn to, and repelled by these strange desert racing people. On one hand, they’re some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.  I never did get a chance to thank the big guy in the black baseball cap — the guy who realized I couldn’t find my pit so he ran his whole crew over to my bike to get me gassed up and back underway.  Here I am, a total stranger who obviously doesn’t know what the heck is going on, and just because that’s the kind of people they are, he gives me what I need to get on my way.  What he didn’t know was after just 27 miles of racing, I was secretly hoping not to find my pit, much less the kindness of strangers, I was seeking a way out. 

See, the problem with desert racers is, for as nice as they are, these hapless souls are insane.

 

I knew I was in trouble when number 614 caught me — I left 30 seconds before him — and with no regard whatsoever for my ability to see, he blazed by me and kicked up virtually all of the dust on the desert floor.  I am not kidding. 

It would be like you taking your car out on Rosedale highway on a super-foggy day trying to go 100 miles an hour, at night, with sunglasses on and your lights off.  It took about twenty seconds of riding by feel before Mr. 614 lead my ego, my bike and I into a ditch where we all crashed. 

I never saw it coming, and it was like this all day.  I found out very quickly that desert racing is not about catching the guy in front of you, it’s about not getting caught by the guy behind you.

 

Despite my troubles, I’m glad for the experience.  All kidding aside, the people involved were so nice, and it was a lot of fun.  There is nowhere else you can legally ride your machine wide open in fifth gear with your eyes closed and have the spectators think you’re a hero. 

If I can get my chiropractor to sponsor me, I might just go back and do it again.  And if he won’t sponsor me, maybe I could find a funeral home that would.

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Comment From: sunnica

Thanks for giving us the update. It was funny all the way through, but the end had me laughing out loud.