By: Jennifer Webb (TORO #L124/TCCRA #W614)
Feb. 2002

My friend and cheerleader, Chris Adams, asked me to write a little something about my weekend of racing with TORO in Thurber, Texas (I’m with Mike, Chris, use your enter key… whew <smile>).  I apologize in advance for the length of this story, but I couldn’t just tell the saga of Thurber without telling some of the other tales of my new found love and, well, if it will inspire other women to consider trail riding, racing or just maybe some of you already out there doing it can relate a bit – here it goes…

In the beginning…  

First, a little background so you can get an idea of just how beginner I am.  I met my boyfriend (Jeff Van Matre - TORO #C213/TCCRA#T614) at the end of March, went to my first TCCRA race in April, volunteered to assist Cindy Gross with gathering interviews and writing the race reviews in May, bought my bike (TTR125L) and basic gear in June, bought all the other “stuff” that you absolutely need to trick the bike for racing in July, August, and September, and raced my first race in October at Pittsburg.

 When I bought my bike it was the coolest toy I’ve ever owned or bought just for me.  I have a garage, but it sat in my living room [Thank you Cindy and Rose for helping me out with the bike selection process – I’m only 5’1” and one hundred and none of your business pounds, so this was a “process!”]  I am old, out of shape and have never ridden a motorcycle before – ever.  I couldn’t wait to ride it and didn’t do too bad going back and forth in the field by my apartment; however, my first time on terrain was a different story.  Jeff was getting lessons from Clay and at the end of it Clay decided to show us an old cross country trail and had me tag along.  He said, “If this is the trail I think it is, it should be pretty easy for her.”  Well, whatever  -- I had ridden my bike all of twice in the field and as it turned out, it wasn’t the trail he was thinking of - or so he says – I still think it was one of those “initiation by fire” things that guys do to women.

 At first I was completely embarrassed that I didn’t know how to go down a hill, or up a hill, or turn a corner, or use the brakes… basically, all I knew was how to sit, shift and throttle (very little throttle, I might add), that’s it.  The guys were great – patient, understanding, explained everything to do and helped me through it.  Between Jeff and Clay picking my bike up off of me, starting it, pointing me in the right direction, showing me and telling me how to do it all – I made it up the final hill.  So given all the work they put in to get me through thirty feet of trail – it had to be more like “unintentional initiation by fire!”  [Thank you Clay.]

 The next step was just TOB (Time On the Bike) – practicing every chance we had, getting comfortable with my bike and applying everything anyone had told me.  We rode the tracks on practice day until I could finally make it through one complete lap.  I then made the decision to race Pittsburg to get the experience of the starting line before the season ended.  I’ve always lived by the rule that no decision is a bad one as long as you learn something from the decision you make.  Rack this up as a big learning experience!  The race (I use that term when applied to what I do, very loosely) was pure hell.  My heart was pounding in my ears, I was last off the line, last through the motocross section, got stuck in a rut for what seemed like an hour [Thank you nice lady who helped me out of it], stalled out my bike and couldn’t get it started for what seemed like another hour (with Jeff talking in my ear telling me not to get frustrated) and I definitely had about enough of the uphill, downhill, uphill, downhill to last me a lifetime (now I know that these are referred to as “whoops”).  After Pat Burroughs lifted me through a rooted out section [Thank you Pat.], I was never so relieved when I came around a corner near the finish, went down the hill and BOOM – I was done.

 LJ found me laying headfirst, down hill in a tree with the back tire of my bike still spinning and fire ants biting the hell out of me.  She told me that my pupil wasn’t dilating so I had her call Jeff on my radio to let him know that I DNF’d my first race (I’ve had six previous concussions).  At this point I knew that I had a lot more practicing to do!

 The Pittsburg race was not the first time I had the privilege of LJ’s company.  I first met her in Cleburn when she came up on me all laid back on my bike by the lake.  Only a handful of people knew about the lake - I know this because I was there enjoying the nice 100+ weather for about three hours while Jeff scrambled around trying to figure out how to get back to me with a way out.  I was happy to see LJ and she and I shared some great stories, she gave me some encouraging words about riding, we tripped out on the huge banana spiders in the tree we were using for “shade” and she shared her water supply with me.  [Thank you LJ.]

  Cleburne was also the track that I got my sixth concussion!  The plan that Jeff came up with was to see if I could ride out without a clutch (stop laughing!!!).  So when that didn’t work out, Plan B was to ride me out on the back of his bike and then ride our friend Matt back to my bike so he could ride it to camp without the clutch.  You couldn’t get to the lake with a four-wheeler – Jeff tried that, too… [Thank you Mrs. Monkeybutt.].  This plan basically worked except while riding me out we encountered one of those 4-inch thick branches hanging low over the track at the top of a hill – you know, the ones with the big “X” on it.  Well, Jeff saw the “X,” yelled and ducked.  I wasn’t so quick to duck and was honored with a close up view of it! [Thank you helmet!]

 After the last race of the TCCRA season in Longview (no I did not even attempt that track – I couldn’t fathom the thought of wearing all my friends out trying to get me around that one) we spent our time off cutting a track and practicing at our friends house in Terrell [Thank you Carty and Kelly.]; we met Billy Beer out at Crawford Park to practice [Thank you Billy for the hill trick.]; and we took a trip during Christmas, all the while wishing we could have flown our bikes out with us to the Smoky Mountains.

 So much for the break… on to fun… on to TORO…

 After the holidays we decided to check out this whole TORO thing and race our first race in Jacksboro.  The goal that I have set for myself this year is simply to finish every race that I start.  So, yes, I’m the weirdo in the chute yelling, “Woooooooo hoooooooo – I FINISHED!!!!” I finished Jacksboro AND I wasn’t even last – which was bonus.  Most of all, I was having the time of my life.  All the practice time I put in helped.  Its amazing how much more fun and how less frustrating it is to race AFTER you know the basics on how to turn, go uphill, go downhill, use your brakes AND you know that a whoop is whoop!!  Jeff placed third in his race and his 10-year old nephew got a twelfth place finish in his first race – not a bad weekend!  [Thank you Cooks for the deal on Max’s bike.]

 I ask, why wouldn’t we want to come out to TORO – an hour of trail riding on Saturday, good friends, racing on Sunday, access to cool terrain and camping for cheap?  It’s a little different from TCCRA, but as a beginner I loved the timed practice because I wasn’t always pulling over for those big bikes to get around and roost me.  However, I must add that I wouldn’t even be on the track if it weren’t for the ability for anyone and everyone to freely ride the track at their leisure during Saturday practice of a TCCRA race weekend.  Truly, the best of both worlds! [Thanks Leaders!]

 And, after all that said…  sorry if I lost some of you… on to Thurber Ghost Town…

 We pull into Thurber, drive through the gas station, sign in, pay and have Mr. Webb check the oil and fill er up <smile>.  We stake out a patch of grass behind the station and set up our ghetto camp.  Yes sir, full on tent camping with all the perks.  I then head out on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to check out the track during my hour allotted to practice.

 I get about five minutes into the track when my back tire hits one of many rocks or bricks or something.  This jumps me over into a log that slides to an abrupt stop right in the middle of a Prickly Pear cactus.  Making a mental note of my demise, I very carefully set my foot down to balance out my bike that amazingly enough… I’m still on.  You do know where this is headed?  Yep… foot slips… down I go… right in the middle of thorn hell with my bike pushing all its weight on top of me sandwiching me between it and the needles now all up my back-side, acting as the preverbal exclamation point!!  Did I mention that I was just five minutes into practice!

 I struggled through the rest of the track, with an ever-present reminder of what just transpired stabbing at me, [Thank you Renee for all your tips, encouragement and help on my lap from hell!] - talk about motivation to ride standing!!  I finally get back to camp and very carefully removed my gear.  I then pulled out as many of the long thorns I could get to that were not too deeply imbedded and set out to find the paramedics to borrow their tweezers.  I find no one at the ambulance so I go to the track entrance gate with the hope of locating an official to call the paramedics for me.

 This is where I meet Will Pattison for the first time.  He knows my name from the articles I’ve done and we chat a bit about that, all the while my jeans are moving the spines in my ass and I’m trying not to hit them on the seat of my bike or look like I am constipated or something.  I tell him that I need to find the paramedics and ask if he knows where they are.  He, of course, is concerned and wants to know who is hurt – so I tell him that I just need to borrow a pair of tweezers… no biggie, nothing to be concerned about.  But no… he continues to ask questions while he is calling out on the radio.  Finally, I tell him about my situation and, well… if you have a Motorola you heard it… something to the effect that a young lady needs a paramedic or a volunteer to get cactus needles out of her butt-tox.  Funny thing is that when the paramedics showed up (two seconds later) they didn’t have any tweezers because they are not allowed to carry tweezers – WHAT??

 Crap… embarrassment all for not – so I took what they had which were those needle-nose scissor looking clip things and went back to my tent, stripped down and waited for Jeff to get back from his practice lap.  An hour later he shows up at the tent all psyched about the track to find me lying on my stomach, naked in the tent with cactus in my… well you know… He is trying so hard not to just bust out laughing!  I tell him that the needle-nose scissor looking clip things are not working and to find Rose to see if she has some tweezers.  So he sets to find the Beunier’s - to no avail.  Thank God he does find another nice lady with a pair to borrow. [Thank you nice lady with the tweezers!]

 Drama at its end (pardon the pun), we walk across the parking lot from our tent and just seconds later we are in downtown Thurber.  After enjoying a nice dinner at the Smokestack Restaurant, we set out to find enough bricks to build a fire ring for our campfire.  This takes us all of minutes… remember, bricks were everywhere!  We get a nice blaze going and everyone is hanging out enjoying its heat, when Mr. Webb rides up on his trailblazing bike (equipped with ribbon rollers, headlight and horn) and proceeds to give us the history of Thurber – and boy did he know his history!!  You would think by the detail of his story that he might have heard it a time or two from “the lady who owns this place.”  It involved a fire, no water for miles around, a building burning down, antiques gone forever… moving on to his point, which was – NO FIRES!  Fair enough.

 We knock down and spread out the logs that are already going and agree to add no more.  For the next three to four hours Mr. Webb, Storman Norman, and the man who can’t tie his sneakers (something about the work involved in going past the midsection all the way down to the shoes without being able to see what you’re doing), join us and rotate from collecting money at the front of the gas station to “policing the situation” (translation – warming up) in the back!  Enduro folk can bench race with the best of them – especially as far back as their stories reach (See how I did that, guys?) and after enjoying a few adult beverages… and, of course, Chris leading a couple choruses of “My Cactus Ass” for everyone to enjoy <rolling my eyes> we had all the makings of good times!!  HOT DAMN!!!

 We awake Sunday morning to the sound Mr. Webb riding his trailblazer around our tent, honking his horn, reminding us of parade lap.  He then takes note of how uptown we are that we even have a front porch to our tent.  The porch is made of logs that were unused from the “non-fire” we had the night before.  Upon closer inspection, he sees the reason for the porch construction project completed in the middle of the night.  You see it seems that Jeff’s intake of beverage floated his steak to the surface right outside the door to our tent and the porch was, in fact, a bridge.  Mr. Webb rode back to his post at the front of the gas station to report his findings to the others… whew… funny how someone else’s embarrassing moment can redirect everyone’s focus to them, leaving my cactus ass, so to speak, behind!  

Ok, ok, ok – all right, already…. I know…. THE RACE…

 Rumor has it that between all the other practice laps run after the ladies went first on Saturday and the parade lap on Sunday, that the rocks and bricks and such were clearing away from the track and it was going to be a fast one.  Jeff, hangover and all, was still pumped about the track because it was much like the desert racing he had done in his teens.  Long story, short (kind of late for that, huh?) he was five second short of beating the Sportsman to the chutes, and took first in his class!  (See how I did that?)

 My race went a little something like this… I had a great start that lasted through the first turn when everyone who wasn’t already in front of me passed me.  I was still upright and moving in a forward direction doing pretty good when the ones who had to kick their bikes a couple times at the start caught up and passed me, too.  Boy, was it ever quite then!!  I was a little encouraged when I came to the checkpoint and they told me that the person ahead of me only came through a few minutes ago (about 3 minutes).  I thought, “Not bad, doing good, haven’t stalled out, haven’t crashed, haven’t seen the underside of a cactus, just keep it up, maybe they’ll make some mistakes!”  You know, the basic personal psyche-up talking to.

 I dumped it for the first and only time, wouldn’t you know, in the chute.  But, with the help of the lady yelling out our numbers [Thank you nice number yelling lady.] I was on to tackle another lap.  Now I’m thinking, “Really?  Another lap?  Are they serious?  Was I really going fast enough to get another one in this afternoon – we were last to go you know?”  So… okay… VERY COOL and off I go.  Now you must remember that I have not seen anyone on the track anywhere near me since the beginning of the first lap.  As I rounded a corner I see Jeff off to the side so I slow down enough to ask if I’m last.  He shakes his head “no” and yells, “Others have fallen out.”  I then see a couple of minis up ahead, but they are quickly out of sight, too.  So be it.  I am a “cup is half full” kind of person so I’m thinking, as I’m singing through the wooded tight section that’s a little muddy, “How cool is this… beautiful Sunday afternoon, 8.5 miles of track all to myself, no one around for miles – it just doesn’t get any better than this!”

 Now others have written about the sun setting in front of them, referring to Ms. Budd’s new KTM, I suppose, but for me – the sun was setting behind me.  I heard it first, the thunder that is, then I snuck a peek backwards and yes sir there he was with his big ‘ol orange helmet on -- the dreaded sweeper.  I kept on going, doing the best I could… right up until I lost the track.  A nice man on a four-wheeler chased me up the hill I was headed, across the field and down the road.  He told me where I went wrong then preceded to escort me back to the track.  [Thank you nice man on the four-wheeler.]  During my little site-seeing tour… the sweeper finished, then me… ten minutes after the person ahead of me in my class.

 Yes, once again, I’m the weirdo in the chute yelling, “Woooooooo hoooooooo – I FINISHED!!!!” [Thank you everyone for waiting around for me.]  I was embarrassed, but that faded when Chris cut my tag and Jeff arrived at the finish relieved to find me alive.

I made it – two started and two finished!!  

Thank you to everyone and with any luck, I won’t always be such a Pain in the Ass!!

 [Thank you Jeff!!]