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Issue link: https://magazine.cyclenews.com/i/127686
crippling case of race jitters I've ever
seen."
The prologue was a one-mile,
motocross-style special test in the hotel's
parking lot, and while its only purpose
was to determine Day One starting posi tions, I was convinced it was a ma tter of
life and death. Needless to say, I overshot
. half the turns and probably convinced the
curious gamblers in the audience never to
set foot near a dirt bike again. I finished
39th out of the 71 entrants - 8.6 seconds off
the leader's pace and '27 positions in back
of my next-sl owest teammate. Wha t's
more, Lewis had blown my exc u se as
being "just a slow journalist," as he tied
Capt for the fastest time. Still, as I lay tossing and turning in my hotel room bed that
night, one thought continuously presented itself through the desperate panic; that
bike was trick!
.
II \1) til \11'1 SS
Day One introduced me to the first of
many early morning wake-up calls, and
since I was too nervous to hold down any
breakfast, I suited up and prepared myself
for the first transfer section - a long, boring stretch of pavement heading north out
of Vegas.
Honda's huge 19-person effort included a three-man crew for every gas stop ,
and each rider was also assigned his own
personal mechanic. Mine was Wayne
McMahan, accessory manager for Honda
of Lubbock. His father George was another mechanic, but we affectiona tely called
the two "Wayne an d Garth."
Outside assistance is forbidden in special tests, b ut just about anything goes
during the transfers, so Wayne followed
me in his car the entire 140 miles to Beatty
- just in case. 1 still didn't know the big
Texan that well, so it was a little eerie with
h im "s talking" me on the lonely desert
highway - especially when he'd get close
and I could hear the stereo blaring country music . I passed the time familiariZing
myself with the road book and sucking on
my Link drink system. Despite the lenient
schedule, the crew practiced their routine
at the single gas stop, filling my tank in
three seconds, slapping me on the back
and yelling, "Go!" I ran behind the box
van and obeyed their command, though
their facial expressions told me it wasn't
exactly what they'd had in mind.
Wayne mounted fresh tires and
changed my oil at Beatty, and after making a few final ad justments, I started the
d ay's 216-mile special test to Tonopah. I
h ad worried about learning to read the
road book, but 1 quickl y got the hang of
the routine and started having fun; perhaps my ample enduro-riding experience
helped. Dust was a problem with such a
late starting position, and while trying to
pass a Japanese rider, I missed a turn and
got lost for the first time.
Except for extreme danger sp o ts,
course markings were non-existent in the
Nevada Rally, so closely following the
road book was ve ry impo rtant. It seems
easy when things are going right, but if
you wander off course it's difficult to get
back on track. I circled around until I
found what I thought was the right turn,
reset my mileage and took off. Unfortunately, the next instruction wasn't for
about eight miles, so 1 endured several
minutes of nervousness. Once sure I was
on course, I kicked myself and muttered,
"I lucked out that time, but 111 never trust
another rider again. From now on, I'll be
completely self-reliant."
.
Cut to the halfway point of Day Two's
232-mile special test, where we find Chris
wandering around aimlessly, having
ignored his road book again and followed
an Italian up a valley. Inspired by a 21stoverall Day One result, I had again gotten
a little over-anxious and paid the price. I
lost about 15 minutes and was passed by
several riders, but finally got back on the
correct trail, even more determined no t to
screw up again.
That determination proved valuable
near the end of the test, where the road
book d ir ected us across and around a
huge dry lake bed. Riders were wanderin g everywhere as I approached, but by
followin g my road book closely I made it
across without incident. I still hadn't
crashed or had a mechanical failure, and
was stoked when team boss Bruce Ogilvie
met me at the Day Two finish and said,
"You're doing grea t, Chris. Just keep riding in control and youll finish in the top
15."
What Ogilvie didn't reaIize was that I
already had every inten tion of riding in
control, whether it meant 15th place or
last. My speedier teamma tes routinely
told horro r stories of high-speed swaps
and wi de-o pen handstands - ne ither of
(Abo ve) Playing
motoc:rosser on
Day One. I would
be less energetic
later In the _k.
(left) Nevada
Rally entrants liv e
and die by the
road book. Here,
the ICO unit's
d igital readout Is
displaying the
day's top speed 98 mph.
which 1had any great desire to experience
first-hand. I had survived one rockinduced swap that was bad enough to
leave a tire track on the inside calf of my
right boot. I didn't like it, and would do
my best to av oid such maneuvers in the
future. I was now in 19th place after a
23rd'