Mark an urban awakening.

Third again!!! What's that saying, "Always a bride's maid never a bride?" If Alton's light didn't burn out in the middle of his lap, we would have gotten second.

 

But that's part of racing. We didn't have a backup light while we rode. Most other teams would keep an LED light in their jersey so they could at least finish their lap.

 

Alton had to wait for a truck to drive him out. Then he had to get back to the campsite and give the baton to Ed. We lost the lap and lost about 45 minutes of time. We went immediately from 3rd

to 12th (heros to zeros). I was ready to go home. But we just kept riding and got back to third around nine in the morning. But we were all taking chances. It would have been nicer to be a little less aggressive on the downhills. But we were trying to make up time.

 

Alton rode a singlespeed and his slowest lap time was 46 in the middle off the night. His fastest was 44. He's a fast dude. I don't know how you go that fast at night.

 

At night it was very very dark due to all the fog. I didn't see anyone else at night on the trail until the fire road climb back. There was sand everywhere. I knew I would crash at some point because we were al pressing so hard to catch back up.

 

I felt like I had a gun taped to my head with one bullet in the chamber, and every time I did a lap someone gave the chamber a spin and pulled the trigger (russian roulette). It was just a matter of time before the gun would go off. You'd come flying through the single track and hit the sand. Then your tire would just "wonk" and turn sideways. There were too many of the sand traps to remember them all. And even when I had no weight on the front tire, it still felt very squirrely.

 

Then in the middle of the night (by the way, it was very foggy and wet all night) I was coming around a turn, and right as I hit the turn there was a giant flash on my right side. My first thought was that someone had blown off a claymore.

I went off the trail and fell in some bushes. I felt for my arms and legs. I lay there for a split second wondering what the hell was going on. Was I in Camron bay in South Vietnam? Should I hide my bike in some bushes and climb a tree? I thought I heard a radio squawk. I was sure charlie (viet kong) was coming.

 

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FLASH? WHO'S BLOWING OFF CLAYMORES IN LAGUNA SECA? Then I heard some noise. Was it charlie? Was I done? I was trying to figure out what i would tell them. I'm just a fat old guy who likes to ride a mountain bike. I don't know anything about the military. If I'm not supposed to be here, I guess i took a wrong turn. I got back on my bike and rode like there was a wild cheetah chasing me. And I spent more time looking back than forward. I was sure something with a claw was going to grab me. I was also listening for sniper fire but did not hear any. And where in the hell was everyone else? I saw no one on the trail.

 

By the time I got back to the camper I had spit and snot all over my face. I was also covered with dirt . I told everyone that charlie had taken the ridge, and that claymores were everywhere. They didn't want to let me in the camper as I was covered with dirt, and blabbering like an idiot. They also wanted me to calm down.

 

That was my worst lap. The rest were very uneventful compared to that.