(written 02/98)
Right on! The Sea Otter Classic has arrived! Here we are, February 22, 1998
and we're heading down to Monterey to participate in a spring Classic. So what
if U.C. Davis screwed up our Spring break this year, so what, if I have a Chemistry
final the day after the race (Gulp!) It's the Sea Otter Classic. This is not
a race to be missed.
With the full intention of pre-riding the course, Matt and I headed down to Monterey on the Saturday before the race. Unfortunately,
we didn't get there until about 4:00 in the afternoon, it got dark at 5:30.
Suffice it to say, we didn't ride the course. Instead, we walked around the
venues and looked all the products on display. Of course, everyone was pretty
much closing up by this time, so we basically took one right up the poopchute
for that day.
We decided to call it a day and make our way back up the Central
Valley to our future roommate's house, Quinn. There we met up with Quinn, Laura
and two of his buddies that were also going to race, John and Brian. We met Quinn's
parents and made small talk until they went to bed. Any thoughts of a good nights
sleep before the race quickly evaporated after the suggestion of a beer run
to the store. With Quinn and his brother Devin (who had raced the Road Race
at Sea Otter earlier in the day) leading the way, we quickly found ourselves
back at the house with copious amounts of alcohol. Budweiser and Mickey's were
on the menu that night, and it wasn't long before we were, uh, feeling the effects
of the brew. We basically stayed up till about 4:00 that morning, till we A)
ran out of beer, and B) decided that it would probably be a good idea to get
some sleep. If you've ever slept in a room with Matt before, here's a little
advice: Bring Ear Plugs!! Holmes has the worst snoring problem that I've ever
encountered. And after growing up with my Pops, I think I'm pretty well versed
in such areas as snoring.
Well, the next morning we were up bright eyed and
bushy tailed (more like dim witted and blurred of vision), and on our way to
the race. Matt and I stopped off for a quick Breakfast of Champions, a Breakfast
Jack, and hash browns from Jack-in-the-Box. An hour later we were prepping our
bikes, signing up for the race and had the nervous butterflies churning away
in our stomachs (or maybe that was the Jack-in-the-Box). Before we knew it,
it was time to be called to the line. John had left earlier, for he was a stud
and he was racing sport. Matt was a couple of groups behind us 'cause he's a
bit older than us, and Brian had to race in the lame ass Later category (The whole
Later category was stupid, if you registered the day of, they put you in this
cat., and they didn't even time you!) So Quinn and I rolled up to the line.
Whoever was the announcer (it has been the same guy for the last 4 years) was
being really annoying like usual, but we were all making jokes on the line anyway.
That was a good sign, 'cause with a loose group no one gets to antsy during
the race. So, we waited for the whistle to go, and . . .Shirrrrrrrrrk!
We were off! Immediately, Quinn and I were off the back, as per our pre-ride strategy
(yeah right!). We hummed along the race course and then hit the dirt with as
much aplomb as we could manage. As we hit the first single track downhill, people
began to pack up behind the skittish downhillers. Did I mention that this was
my first race on my new bike? Well let me tell you, 4-inches of travel on a
fork was quite a new experience for me, and boy, let me tell you; if I wasn't
a believer before, I was one now. With those four inches, I went slightly off
the trail and managed to pass about 10 people, Quinn included. Man, I was hauling
balls down these single track hills that just a year ago were giving me palpitations.
continue . . .
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