My First Enduro
By
James Cole

The first time I saw Evil Knievel I wanted a dirt bike. For my 33rd birthday (November 1999) my wife bought me a 1989 KDX 200. This would allow me to go riding with our son on his 1970 Honda SL70 (metal fenders and all). By Christmas I had new dirt bike apparel and new decals for the bike. I was told that if you can't ride, you should at least look good at the starting line.

Since the Sidewinder Enduro was my first race, I was accompanied by my in-laws, my wife, our daughter and our son (who rode the mini-sand trap). My wife was more nervous than I was, with visions of broken bones on her mind. Maybe the christening of sand across my tire from Sidewinder Man comforted her. Honestly, I was thankful for anything I could get and knew Sidewinder Man would watch over me.

My goals for the Enduro were to have fun, be safe, protect the bike, finish the 20 mile "beginner" course, and above all, beat the Grim Sweeper. Starting in row 32 out of 38, I knew the Grim Sweeper (Vernon Markworth) would be on my back tire if I let up.

Several hundred yards into the course I realized that someone in the Sidewinder Club must have recently won the lottery. There is no way the DBSA (my local club) could afford to ship every grain of sand from the Texas Coast in for one race. I was warned there would be sand and told "shift your weight back and keep your feet on the pegs". Easier said than done. I guess you could say my weight was back as my feet were dragging behind my rear tire while I struggled to fight the front tire in and out of the cavernous trail my fellow riders had left for me.

I was thankful to be towards the back of the pack because I didn't want to get in the way. After a mile or so, I pulled over to let row 33 zip on by. Boy those riders were fast! They must have had folding handlebars to slice through the trees along with quicksand-resistant tires. Not only were they fast, they were polite. As they roared on by, each rider said thank you. I found this true of every rider that went on by, which ended up being a lot of riders.

It seemed to take an hour to reach the first checkpoint, and I have to admit I wish there was a recliner to take a short nap. The "checkers" were also polite, "you're doing great, are you having fun". I panted heavily and fought to smile wondering if they said that to all the riders, or just us beginners with the Red Stripe under our number.

Shortly after the first checkpoint I realized the Sidewinder Man was looking out for me. At first I thought it was an illusion, but I sure was happy to see REAL DIRT. For a few moments, I even hit 2nd gear. I had brief visions of grandeur of actually "burning" the 2nd checkpoint...Reality strikes again! Those dog-gone sandy whoop-dees come out of nowhere. Boy that bike feels like it weighs 800 pounds the second time you drop it.

Back on the road again I resumed sucking on the water hose to find I had consumed 2 liters of water...before mile marker number 5! By the 2nd checkpoint I thought I had enough but was determined to avoid the Grim Sweeper. The checkers again asked, "are you having fun". I think they realized I was beat when I asked to borrow their thumbs so I could hang on better.

I had been told that "if you don't hit a tree, you're not going fast enough". Shortly after the 3rd checkpoint, I confirmed I was at warp speed. Thank goodness for barkbusters!

As much "fun" as I was having I realized it could be worse. I later came upon a rider picking his bike out of a creek bed. Judging by his speed of movement, this was not the first time he had done this today. I waited patiently while two riders came up behind me. I sure was glad to see these riders. Not that they were old friends, but they were on the same number as I was. Was it possible that there were other riders as "talented" as I was? We were thankful for the brief rest and wished each other luck as we continued onward. It then became the three of us against the Grim Sweeper.

At the 3rd checkpoint I was cheered on with smiling faces "Just 2 tenths of a mile, have you had enough". Maybe through the dusty goggles they could see the word "fun" was not written across my forehead, but I sure was happy to see them.

I think my father-in-law summed the Enduro experience nicely when he told my wife "This is the kind of hobby that will make my grandson a real man. These are good people".