51 - A Birthday in Wichita. Family in KC. The Epic World Cup Weekend of Racing at the I-70 Speedway in Odessa Missouri.

The Midwest was good to me.  The last few days were among the best of the trip. After waking up in the middle of nowhere Texas, I waited for the sun to rise and began a long day of riding.  Around three, I rolled into Wichita.  There wasn't anything for me so do or see (or so I thought,) so I just wanted to find downtown, find a glass gallery and find a marble for Jocelyn. I found a gallery quickly and went in to check it out.  The selection was irrelevant.  This trip wasn't about stores or shopping and that wasn't about to change.  The clerk only had one that met my criteria.  One of which was that she had to know the artisan that made it.  Unlike the marbles that Keith collects, Jocelyn's are all new and have cool stories behind them.  The story behind the marble I was holding would do the trick, so I paid quickly and left as my motorcycle was parked illegally... and running.

While cruising around downtown, I saw Big Dogs Motorcycles.  I had no idea they had HQ in KS.  Anyhow, I stopped in to check out choppers.  I was impressed... unlike the "bikers" working retail for Big Dog.  So the Old Wing isn't a custom chopper, but the guys at Big Dog were the first bikers I've met on the trip who didn't have respect for all who ride (especially those who ride far.)  Oh well.  Their bikes still looked nice, though rumor has it that one wouldn't want to ride one very far.  At least, not without a rescue vehicle nearby. 

After Big Dogs, I rode around to find the  college.  It seems that Wichita State is in Wichita, which makes sense.  Only a few days/weeks earlier, I'd been riding around campus in Corvallis, OR. 

After enough campus sightseeing, I took off to find food before leaving town.

 

 

I found food alright, but I didn't find the city limits until long after dawn the following day.

There was a place downtown with parking for motorcycles, but there weren't any bikes out front.  It was just before 5:00, so I parked in a prime spot and sauntered inside looking for a cold beer, hot food, a TV and a bartender willing to surrender the remote.  Three out of four isn't bad.  I sat there watching CNN on mute and really not looking to strike up a conversation.  I'd half-heartedly decided to get out of town and camp someplace cool and then celebrate my birthday the following day. 

There was a table of five guys to my right and after a few minutes, one of them started heckling me.  He was funny and it was all in good fun, so I played along, though still keeping to myself.  I was tired, hot and hungry and not up for conversation.  It turns out that Carlos rides too and when he heard about my trip, he insisted that I join their table.  I joined their party and that was it.  I'd met some great people and  soon realized there was no point in leaving Wichita that evening.

Most of they guys rode, and all were friendly. 

Carlos had an old British BSA Beezer in Vietnam, and another, years later in Hawaii.  He'd ridden all sorts of bikes, as had the other guys.  Turns out, it was bike night and the place filled up quickly.  One of the guys at the table was Kyle.  He was one of the younger guys at the table and he and I are the same age.  Unfortunately, he had only stopped in for a beer and was headed out to take care of after-work chores. 

The guy's been racing since he was a kid and had been involved in the motorsports community throughout his career.  After retiring from motorsports a few years ago, he began working in telecommunications and does extensive work for my former employer; Verizon.  To say the least, we hit it off. 

Thanks Kyle for blowing off whatever you had to do that night.

After a few hours downtown, Kyle knew that it was soon to be my birthday and offered a place to sleep and to show me Wichita's finest.  I followed him back to his place and put my bike in the garage and threw on a clean shirt before going out.

Check out Kyle on his aprilla.  Yes, it is as fast as it looks.  According to guys I met that know Kyle, he can ride it like it was meant to be ridden.  Pretty cool!

It really is a small world.  As we were waiting to go out, Kyle dialed a phone number, chatted with an old friend, then handed the phone to me.  Turns out, his friend Phil, used to live in NC and managed the Honda Dealer in the Piedmont Triad.  WOW!  Now, he's the head corporate guy for Honda in CA.  Pretty cool.  Too bad I didn't know him while I was sitting at the Honda Dealer in Anchorage listening to the service manager try to explain why there was no way he'd work on my old bike.

Anyhow, Kyle's girlfriend came over and drove us all over town.  We stopped in at many of the Wichita hotspots before finally everything closed and it was time to go home.  What a night! What a way to spend a birthday.  The celebratory birthday shots at midnight were just another cool event during a very cool night.

In the morning, the only thing that came to mind that would have been worse than getting on a motorcycle in 90 degree heat, would have been being Kyle, and getting up three hours earlier to go to work.  Thanks man for going out on a Thursday, and staying out like it was a Friday.

Famished and dehydrated, I went back downtown to eat breakfast.  The waiter at Egg Cetera, Tim, heard about my trip and then came back to my table to tell me that the manager would like to buy my breakfast.  Wow.  This doesn't seem out of the ordinary anymore.

 

 

I've now been to towns named Eureka in four states. 

Arghhh!!!  Tired, parched and 91 degrees.  Ouch!

 

I'd heard that Lawrence Kansas is really cool, so I stopped to check it out.  While leaving Lawrence, I rode next to this guy.  His bike, yep... an '86.  It was old and ratty, but it still got him around.  We talked for about 10 minutes while riding in traffic side by side. 

After my stop for petrol and Coke Classic at Route 66, I hadn't ridden at speed for more than a couple of minutes when I noticed that the bike was running rough.  With my two fingers on my throttle-mate, the usual vibrations were suddenly unusual.  It seemed that I got a bad batch of fuel... at least I hoped that's what it was.

As it was now my birthday proper, I called my Aunt and Uncle in KC and made plans to stop by and say hello.  Aunt Linda made a cake for me and I got to hang out with my Uncle Steve and with my cousins.  Very cool.

 

My cousin Daniel had been following my trip, so it was fun to catch up with him because I'd not seen him since his big trip to Europe.

Joshua has a new pocket rocket.  I'd never had any desire to ride one, until I saw one sitting in the garage.  My cousin certainly obliged and fired it up and took off to show me how it's done.  The geometry is a bit different than on the Wing.  The other subjects are radically different as well.

Riding it was fun, though I wish I had my riding gear.

I left KC in the early afternoon to go catch Saturday night racing at a short track.  Nearly every Saturday night in the Lower 48, I've been able to find a racetrack.  Today, I could choose between two tracks that are both nearby.  I had no idea how lucky my choice was.  I chose the I-70 Speedway and off I went.  After getting near the track, I stopped in for fuel and for beer.  I do love strapping beer and ice to my already overloaded bike.  It's so over-the-top ridiculous, I can't help but laugh.

Neither can onlookers.

I rode up and immediately got off the gravel and rode like a banshee through the field and went over to a group of tailgaters to ask about the race.  Turns out, one of the guys would later drive the number 2 red ford you see below.  I rode up like an idiot.  I've found that if I ride up without fanfare, people wonder what I'm doing.  If I ride up to them on a 1,000 pound bike through a field at 50 mph with dust flying and the back end sliding, they want to know what I'm doing.  A very different reaction.  These folks were really friendly, but not looking for someone to join their party.  They did give me the lowdown on the weekend.  Where to camp, when to go inside, what to expect...

Though I still had no idea what to expect.

Check out the Pontiac GTO's.  It must have been a club weekend.

The trailer for the #37 reads: "Allison Quick."  With a name like that, the girl was born to race.

When I saw the Zaxby's trailer, I knew I was in for a treat.  At this point, I've been to over a dozen short tracks and I'd never seen any big-name sponsors.

A Harley bagger doesn't usually strike me as picture worthy, not even if it's an Ultra Classic.  However, the sticker on the helmet did catch my eye.

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"In Memory of the 58,215 who never returned home from Vietnam."

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The sign below seemed redundant.  I know the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but can't we still assume that people know not to booze and swear in the family section?

Having a family section implies that anything goes in the other sections. 

I bet that somewhere, there is a guy who did something and is responsible for that sign.  I would also bet that the story behind it is hilarious!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check out the banking!  That is one steep half-mile asphalt oval.  Actually, now that Bristol has been re-paved, this is the highest banked paved track in the country.  If you're not a race fan, take my word for it, that's cool!

 After watching the race cars run a few laps, I started walking around and looking for people to meet.  I saw a guy with a cowboy hat standing with a little kid and walked up to say hello.  He introduced himself as Smokin' Joe.  The name seemed fitting as he is known around the track as having the best barbeque around.  I thought it was ironic that I live in the Camel City, home of the famed character of the same name.  Anyhow, he'd recently put up the lights that lit the dirt track and had done so in record time.  I'd worked on a similar project while at GTE and fully understood how impressive such a feat was.  Smokin' Joe has been involved in racing since he was a kid, he lives near the track and is the guy responsible for running things around the I-70 speedway.  Not only that, he runs on both the dirt track and on the asphalt track on most weekends.  Unfortunately, his race car was sitting on the sidelines with a blown motor, so this weekend he was a spectator.

He left to attend to official business and I left to get some dinner.  Shortly after I sat down to enjoy a burger and beer, the kid (8 or 9 years old) walked up to me and said: "Smokin' Joe wants to see you."  This kid is really cool.  He wasn't phased one bit by walking up to me and asking me to follow him.  I asked where Joe was and told him I'd find him after I finished my meal.  The kid looked at me and said, "no, Smokin' Joe wants to talk to you so you'd better come now."

So off I went following the little man through the crowd.  Joe said he wanted to introduce me to some people and we set off to go up to the suites.  He introduced me to the track's owner, Brad McDonald, and to BT, the Operations Manager.  Later, BT walked up to me and handed me a ticket to tomorrow's big event.  WOW! 

Smokin' Joe and I stepped out on the balcony overlooking the track because where we'd been standing in one of the suites was also the room the announcers used to call the race.  A bit later, Joe told me that the announcers, Brad & Greg were probably going to interview me.

In between races, Greg walked over with the mic, and in front of a crowd of a couple thousand people, introduced me.  He then handed the mic over and I gave a 90 second summary of the trip to date.  Four months, 25,000 miles and over a dozen stock car races at short tracks around the country from New Hampshire to Wyoming.  From Montana to Alaska, and from Virginia to Oregon.  Greg then asked all the single girls to walk by the suites overlooking the front stretch and to wave and smile.  What a guy!  Unfortunately, there were no takers.  Not a single girl smiled or waved.  Oh well, a lot of the race car drivers are single and a whole lot more eligible than a cross-country rider on an old ugly Wing. 

Ouch!

After the race, Smokin' Joe invited me to hang out with his friends at his legendary tailgate.  I got to meet his wife, Jennifer, and a whole bunch of race car drivers.  All around, I met really good people.

Check out Rick below.  Rick is super cool and raced his first race at I-70 in 1974.  Let's see, in '74 I was an infant.  Rick's seen a lot over the years and is a staple at the speedway.

Lisa, a racing journalist was also there, as were Mark and Jacobee. 

Mark Spillman had just won the title for the Superstock division.

Jacobee Deckman had just won the championship for the Enduro class.

Check out the I-70 points summary for details.

At age 20, Jacobee was well known on the circuit as a talented driver.  Mark, only a couple of years older, had finished in the top 5 for 16 of the season's 17 races.  I had a great time talking to Mark who was down-to-earth.  Very humble for a guy who was about to get a huge trophy for his season's accomplishments.

Their friend, to the right of Mark & Jacobee below, had gashed his head open while helping with the tailgate.  I've seen some bad wounds and have seen the subsequent shock that injured people usually succumb to. Not this time though.  This guy clenched his teeth and focused on not passing out and sure enough, 15 minutes later he was up and about.  I'd expected him to be white as a ghost and to need a couple of hours to get over the shock.  I saw him the next morning and congratulated him on being one tough son-of-a-gun.  I'd never seen anything quite like it.  It was a bad injury.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The next morning, I scrambled out of my tent to escape the near hundred degree heat.  It was already 84 outside and there was no shade in sight.  After having stayed up partying with the I-70 crew until nearly dawn, I was not in the mood for sunshine and water from a bottle.  Oh well... the perils of living on a motorcycle.  I certainly couldn't spare water to rinse my face and coffee didn't sound like a good idea.  So I got on my bike and went to find ice tea and eggs.  Morgan's Family restaurant to the rescue.  After breakfast, I found an O'Riley's autoparts store to get something that would hopefully fix my bad fuel problem.  Then, I clicked off a couple of dozen miles to see if it worked.  Like a charm.  Time to turn around and head for the track to catch the green flag for the day's big event. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the way into the track, I met Mitch.  Mitch and I really hit it off and ended up drinking beer, watching racing and even tailgating afterwards.   

I was glad to have my brimmed hat to shield my burnt face and neck from the scorching sun.  So was Mitch.  See the spotter perched high atop the dirt-track grandstand.

The lady to the right was married to one of the drivers and stood there for the entire race and alternated between cheering and fretting.

Here's me and Smokin' Joe.

I'm glad to have this picture, as the night time pictures I took at the tailgate didn't turn out.

 

 

 Mitch and I walked back to his car and fired up the grill and we chowed down on a couple of burgers before he hit the road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the main event on the asphalt track, I headed over to the dirt track to watch modified cars run on dirt.

 

In the morning, I got up and headed for Little Rock... via Branson.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next: Little Rock, Tupelo, Atlanta Brewing Company, and Asheville