Wednesday, July 31, 2013

You've Gotta Be Someone...

Yes, you must be someone to wear a helmet sporting horns like those. This kid, knocking back a well-deserved, fresh lemonade, after a day on the sands with the Junior Lifeguard program at Seal Beach, does them some justice. Never-the-less, I would like to see Marcel Kittel storming to the line at the head of a field sprint wearing those horns. Nothing says clear the way, like a fast sprinter with pointy things on his helmet.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

From the Library: Every Second Counts...

It seems as though the occurrence of retired former-professional cyclists coming clean about their use of performance enhancing drugs has become weekly of late. I don't know how many of these revelations can be attributed to Lance's confession, but the list of contrite ex-racers is sometimes a bit surprising (Stuart O'Grady), and other times not so much (Erik Zabel).

Like the previously reviewed It's Not About the Bike, this book is a little bit racing, a little bit cancer survivor, a little bit family life. Every Second Counts is a little more race heavy than the earlier book, covering the period up to Armstrong's fifth Tour title in 2003. Most readers who follow the sport will naturally read those race recollections with a tainted dose of sarcasm, searching for the unseen EPO hidden on each page. Fair enough, you reap what you sow, and Lance's fields of lies are quite extensive, to say the least. I want to say that there is still something to be learned from reading this book, something that reveals more than just deception, something that makes it worthwhile. If there is it would have to be the inspiration that Armstrong provided, maybe continues to provide, to those locked in their own battles with cancer. Armstrong's impact on the sport of cycling will never completely disappear, he has shifted from famous to infamous, and will likely remain stuck in that gear. Read with a wary eye, like it or not, this story will always be a part of sport history, and as we are finding more and more, just one of many similar stories from that era.

Armstrong, Lance with Sally Jenkins   Every Second Counts   New York: Broadway Books, 2003

Monday, July 29, 2013

Monday Blues: Fade Away...

A double dose of the blues today.
This one has been on my mind for a couple weeks now, but I just this morning got around to taking some photos for it. Seems the bike lane on upper Mills, between Foothill and Baseline, is doing a slow fade, especially on the south-bound side of the street.

What do we want? Bike Lanes! When do we want them? Now!

Blue: A color, a mood or emotion, a genre of music. Tune in each Monday for another installment of the Blues, with a cycling twist.

Monday Blues: Milk Crate...

You can carry some things on a bike with just a rack. But, for those times you need to haul around more than a couple books, many riders have found that a basket becomes the next neccesary accoutrement. Once upon a time while poking around a bikeshop at Lake Tahoe I found a nice handy metal specimen that folds down flat. It has served the family ever since. Of course there are all sorts of fancy woven ones as well.  All that is really needed though, is a simple plastic milk crate. They can be secured to the rack by any number of means, from bungie cords to those little automotive hose clamps. Simple, but effective, makes the humble bicycle the perfect means for getting around town.

Blue: A color, a mood or emotion, a genre of music. Tune in each Monday for another installment of the Blues, with a cycling twist.

Friday, July 26, 2013

The Desert Smells Like Rain...

"Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and distribute for money. By 'they' I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival ... the time will come when they will sell you even your rain." - Thomas Merton

I was really hoping that rain would fall on today's ride. Summer rain, those big round drops that pound down creating a thunderous crashing all their own, is such a rare happening. The days of the Sun stretch from April to December. It is a long time to wait, a long time to thirst. The color drains from the land, which wrinkles and cracks. The imagery created by Merton's quote, of rain as a festival, is no more vibrantly true than it is during the summer. The quote, I found in a book entitled "The Desert Smells Like Rain" which I first read a good twenty, or more years, ago. In it, author Gary Nabhan, recounts journeys and experiences among the Papago, or more properly today, the Tohono O'odham. Living for generations, in what is today southern Arizona and northern Mexico, the greater Sonoran Desert region, it is not difficult to imagine the significance of rain to O'odham culture, the role it has long played in both daily and ceremonial life. Rain as festival, I imagine, is especially appropriate to the Tohono O'odham people.

When rain comes during this period of dry it brings color with it. The color it brings is felt on the skin, heard by the ears, sensed through our nose and, perhaps, tasted if we stick out our tongue. As for myself, I largely missed out on the festival of falling water this day. Those clouds dispatched a few drops, as you can see by the tracks left in the dirt, just enough to dampen, but not wet, the ground. It was just enough to cause a faint scent of earth to rise, to mix with Spring's once green mantle, dry now and decomposing beside the trail. I would like to have felt the rain running down my arms and legs, mixing with the more usual sweat, and washing it away. More moisture in the air, than on my body. Its sound was a too-brief patter, a snare drum, rather than a booming bass. There was not enough to overcome the taste of salt on my upper lip. In the end, the rain was just a tease, a faint, scattered hope. Neither enough to settle a dust, nor slake a thirst. There is a festival coming, but for now we wait.

Another Funding Threat...

If you are a member of the League of American Bicyclists, or a supporter of the Safe Routes to School programs, you may have already received notification about this. Following last year's near disastrous transportation bill that passed through Congress (yes, there is a metaphor in there), Kentucky's Senator Paul Rand has put in motion an amendment to finish the job. The amendment, added to this year's Transportation Appropriations bill, would do away with the pitiful 2% to 3% of funds granted to alternative modes of transportation, including biking and walking. The Safe Routes National Partnership notice of this impending mistake is here:

If you are so inclined, this would seem to be a good time to let your voice be heard.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Velo course: Monroe Truck Trail, No Frills...

Last week I wanted something different, for my weekly mtb ride, than the usual Bonelli Park or Marshall Canyon trails. I looked back through this blog, as well as the Claremont Cyclist, and realized that I have never done any kind of write-up for the Monroe Truck Trail (MTT). This also means that I have not ridden its dirt in more than four years, at the least. That settled it, not only was I going to ride the MTT, but I was going to add it to the Velo course.

"The Monroe Truck Trail was first used in the early 1920s when a deposit of metal used for hardening steel was discovered by Owen Cullen in Little Dalton Canyon. A mine, several dwellings, and a mill for processing the ore were located in the vicinity. During the depression years, the MTT was improved and became a Forest Service fire road." - William B. Cullen, 1995.

Other than along the upper portion of this route, that Forest Service fire road has long since disappeared, giving way to the onslaught of flood and other erosive forces, and natural reclamation. What we are left with today is one of the finer examples of single track trail in the local frontage of the San Gabriel Mountains. Allowing nature to reclaim this old road has led to a trail that is fun to ride whichever direction you are heading.

For purposes of description, Monroe Truck Trail can be divided into three non-equal sections. The lower, opening portion of trail follows up the bottom of Little Dalton Canyon - it is rockier, shadier, crossing in and out of the course of a perennial streambed. Normally dry during the summer and autumn months, it will carry water during wetter times of the year. You whip past thick stands of willow, interspersed with oaks and other usual large, canyon dwelling tree species. At a bend in the trail where a side canyon comes down from the left, and just before the end of this first section of canyon bottom trail you reach what, I assume, must be the remains of those mining operations mentioned above. You will notice the tumble down water tank first, but if you take a few minutes to trod the little side trail at this point, you will come to some concrete and steel remains. At first I thought these might be all that is left of a water gauging station, but then noticed, a little further along, the dark maw of a tunnel or cave. Walking up to it I saw a cot and other items strewn about just inside and so decided against exploring any more. Bummer, I would like to spend a little more time traipsing the area to find what else may still be around.

Scrambling back to the bike, which I had left just down below on the trail, I pedaled on reaching the end point of the canyon-bottom portion of trail in no time. Here the trail makes a near 180º turn to the right and begins its rise away from the canyon bed. From here the trail rises at a gradual but steady pace. There is some tree cover at first, but they fall away the more you gain in elevation; eventually they only grow where the trail swings into and out of little side canyons. There used to be this one deeply eroded gully cutting across the trail as if a giant had swung an axe into the mountainside leaving a deep, sharp gash; enough of an obstacle that I would dismount to get across. That cleave seemed a little less severe on my most recent passing, but I still walked my way across. Hillside shrubs, buckwheat in particular, but also monkeyflower, poison oak, chamise, sage, and various other sage and chaparral habitat species crowded in against the trail - good luck avoiding them all.

Before too long you reach a point in the trail from which branch-trails into Mystic Canyon descend. For that reason I call this overlook Mystic Pointe, and not only are there views of the trails sweeping away, but down into the distant valley as well. Unless you are turning off here, the MTT continues up and around the bend. You may realize a subtle difference taking shape in the trail as you proceed beyond the Pointe - erosion has created a distinct 'V' in its surface. This creates a little extra challenge as you find yourself riding on one sloped surface or another. It is not a deep "V" so it is really not difficult, but you will probably brush up against the shrubs more often as you bounce from one side of the trail to the other.

There is very little shade beyond Mystic Pointe, and during the summer, the sun can really beat down. At one point along the way I stopped at an overlook with a long view down Little Dalton Canyon; beyond that, the city was spread across the vast plain like some monstrous child's Lego creation. Views like this open up periodically along much of the trail, so I had become used to them; what was of more interest this time were the waves of visible heat I noticed flowing across the trail as I bowed my head to its weight and my eyes swept the ground. From an early age we children of southern California get used to seeing those heat mirages rippling across the edges of asphalt playgrounds at our local schools. To see the same literally right at my feet was a bit disconcerting - "just how hot is it?"

Both the bottom (BoM) of Monroe and the top (ToM) intersect with Glendora Mountain Road, and that paved route into the mountains is rarely out of view as it rises along the other (west) side of Little Dalton Canyon. From this perspective it looks like such an easy grade, and in comparison to the dirt trail, I would have to say it probably is. As you get closer to the top there are a few spots where the trail pitches up at a steeper grade, nothing unbearable, nothing long, just enough to notice. While most of the trail is narrow single track, when you get to the final mile or two it distinctly widens, and you may even notice some remnant patches of asphalt. This upper part of trail is the third distinct section, resembling an overgrown fire road; the views also shift from the canyon and valley down and behind you, to the high peaks further north. The route up here borders the San Dimas Experimental Forest to your right, and you look down into its canyons, along its ridges, and can wonder at the experiments taking place - Treebeards, weresquirrels, and other fantastical things.  Eventually you will reach the gate at the ToM and can look forward to the upcoming descent back the way you came. If you kept your eyes open during the climb you may have noticed a couple ridge routes paralleling the main trail; it would have been foolish to attempt to climb these, but they are clearly popular alternatives heading back down. I stick to the main trail myself, hence the "No Frills" in the title of this Velo course.

The Monroe Truck Trail is a diverse route with touches of many different trail conditions. The trail is a popular one, and is especially suitable for intermediate to expert riders. Admittedly though, I saw only one other person the entire ride, this latest time up. However since there is very little of a technical challenge, novice riders may want to give it a try. Mileage came out at 14.06 miles round trip, with 2444 feet of elevation gain and, since this is an out and back ride, I believe all but 200 feet of that are gained during the outward-bound, climbing leg.

opening stretch of trail, nice flow

some stretches of rock and stream crossings

concrete mining remains with tunnel opening at upper left

more remains with collapsed water tank

nice and smooth, with buckwheat still in flower

Mystic Pointe with trail descending to Mystic Canyon

nice flow

do not attempt to adjust your screen - I was not attempting to focus on the thistle, but rather the great mass of poison oak covering this portion of mountainside

MTT and GMR with the city spread out below

a little bit of shade, and Baldy comes into view

a lot of sun exposure, so it can get hot

resting at the top

mountainsides, canyons and ridges

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Beginners with Attitude...

I passed by these two ladies a few times on this particular morning; on the first fly-by they were both walking beside their bikes. I was just about to pass an older gent on a slight downhill section of path, Flora and Fauna (names have been changed to protect the innocent) were walking towards us on a slight up-tilting bend. Both were smiling, laughing, enjoying the moment. As we passed each other one lady, I believe it was Flora, exclaimed "we're just beginners." I may have discerned a small fraction of seriousness in the comment, a means of explaining the situation as, not one but two, obviously accomplished riders sped by. But no more than a small fraction. They weren't really attempting to explain why they were hoofing it while others pedaled along. There was nothing to prove. Mostly what I detected, was a lighthearted means of sharing a brief encounter, of bridging a gap.

Anyway, I continued on - I was doing some 16 mile loop laps at the time, which meant that I passed them another two times during the ride. This would be an insignificant part of the story if not for the fact that they were riding both times. It means that, even though the effort got the best of them for a moment, they did not give up and call it a done day; they got back on their bikes and kept going. When I smiled and laughed along with them at our first passing, I hoped that they would realize that I understood. We all start somewhere, this was their place, their turn.

A while ago I wrote about the forlorn bikes I see in garages as I ride past their open doors. My brief encounter with Flora and Fauna got me wondering how many of those bikes ended up where they are because their owners just did not have the right attitude. How many beginners approach their first rides with distorted memories of youth and its boundless energy? How many beginning riders have watched long-time road warriors pedal past with seeming effortless style and think it looks so easy? How many novices hop on a new bike only to realize that not all roads point downhill, that even the slightest bit of breeze works against their forward momentum? How many get discouraged?

Theodore Roosevelt once said, "Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty ... I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well."

Yet another inspirational leader, Winston Churchill, said "Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference." Sometimes riding a bike is easy; once, maybe twice a year, everything comes together and I feel like those two wheels and I could take on the world and come away victorious. The rest of the time varying degrees of effort are required. No matter what the case may be, the destination, the distance, the situation, I am sure the effort is worth it. Sometimes it is immediate - the downhill at the end of the long climb. Other times it is more distant, some as yet unseen point in the future. Whether they knew it or not, these two women, self-proclaimed beginners, were doing things right; they refused to surrender, they refused to not believe in themselves. What they did was ride with the right attitude, they "smiled when it hurt most" (anonymous). Attitude and effort got them through.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Stuff Someone Said: Ronan Pensec...

"He worked especially hard for me that day, encouraging me, and I hope he knows how much that means to me."

Pensec, from earlier hair-disfunction times

In 1990, Ronan Pensec was a member of the Z cycling team who's leader was Greg Lemond, who was gunning, that year, for his third Tour victory. On stage 10 from Geneva to Saint Gervais, Pensec finished strongly in the group of leaders and found himself inheritor of the Yellow Jersey from its previous wearer, Steve Bauer. The following day was another one in the Alps, this time finishing atop legendary Alpe d'Huez. While Greg was the team's most likely to succeed at overall victory, they could not ignore the fact that Pensec had the jersey at the moment. Thus, while most of the team rode the eleventh stage in support of Lemond, climber-extraordinaire Robert Millar, was assigned to see to Pensec's well-being during the long day. The plan worked - Pensec with Millar's assistance retained the jersey for another day after finishing only 48 seconds behind stage winner Gianni Bugno.

a well-known Graham Watson photo showing Millar leading Pensec through the Alps

Monday, July 22, 2013

2013 TdF Recap: Stuck Buses, Fear of Speed, and the Irish Stake a Corner...

I am skipping the Monday Blues this week in order to present my Tour de France recap, some of my more memorable moments from the three weeks. Of course since the Tour is now done for another year, we go through our annual Tour withdrawl, and for the time being, I suppose that makes me blue. As you would expect for any three weeks-long event, the 2013 Tour de France was absolutely bursting with stuff - stuff that took place during and in the race, stuff that took place on the sidelines, and stuff that took place in the quieter moments between the action. For me, some of the more memorable moments were, in no particular order:

The Orica - Green Edge team bus becoming stuck beneath the scaffolding at the finish line of the very first stage and as the race, with great rapidity closed in along the final kilometers. Shortening the stage, and then reverting to the original finish caused all kinds of confusion for the teams and riders, and likely led to a massive pileup limiting the number of racers contesting the sprint. Through it all I found myself commiserating with the driver, sitting in his seat, face buried in his hands in utter disbelief, embarrassment, anguish - pick an emotion, I am sure they all flashed through his mind at one point or another, until finally being able to move clear of the cameras and the attention.

The count was twenty-one years, a lengthy drought by any measure, since an Irish racer had won a stage of the Tour. Working fluidly with his breakaway companion, Jakob Fuglsang until the final kilometer, Daniel Martin ended the drought with a superb finish kick to claim the stage 9 victory at Bagneres de Bigorre in the Pyrenees. Martin may have claimed the victory, but he was quick to credit his teammates for their part as well, "it was a great team effort all day, the guys went on the attack from the start and I had to finish it off in the end."

Speaking of twenty year gaps, the other Irishman in the race, Nicolas Roche, helped to put another dubious streak to rest. It had been that long since a racer from the Emerald Isle stood atop the G.C. podium in Paris on the final day. Roche did so as a member of the Saxo-Tinkoff Team which won the Team Classification.

During the stage 11 time trial to Mont Saint Michel, a spectator along the course doused sprinter Mark Cavendish with urine. Disgusting and a dark mark for sportsmanship. One of the more intriguing aspects of the Tour (and cycling in general) is the close proximity between competitor and spectator. Some people just don't deserve it.

Chris Froome on Mont Ventoux during stage 16. If Froome's dominating exclamation of a win atop the Monster of Provence didn't win the Tour on this day, it certainly showed who everyone else would be chasing. The win also, however, presented a bit of a conundrum; following the Tour last year I said I would be surprised if Froome was not leading a team this year. This proved to be true. So, let me now wonder whether Richie Porte will be leading a team come the 101st edition of le Grande Boucle next year. If Froome finished off the stage, it was Porte who set it up. 

The withdrawal of Thibaut Pinot. A sentimental favorite last year, turned national hope this year, Pinot pulled out of the race before the beginning of stage 16. Some sources, including his team, initially cited illness for the inability to continue, but Pinot himself admitted that a mental problem was the cause saying, "some people are afraid of spiders or snakes. I'm afraid of speed. It's a phobia." Pinot noted that his inability to descend at speed was hampering his ability to participate in the race. Though I find it surprising that someone at this high level would be stricken with this fear, I can relate and have written about it in the past. It is a shame, Pinot is a young racer with much talent, and I hope he can sort things out.

Stage 17 was a mountain time trial between Embrun and Chorges. While on an early morning reconnaissance of the course, Jean-Christophe Peraud crashed heavily, fracturing his right clavicle. With an enviable display of grit and determination, Peraud had the doctors tape him up as best they could, and got on with the race at hand. Considering all, he posted up respectable times throughout the course, until with two kilometers remaining he crashed hard on his right side once again and, in what must surely have been unimaginable pain and  despair, was forced to withdraw:

The same mountain time trial revealed a gal in a bikini cheering the racers along. I don't think a moto-camera ever failed to capture a rider passing her bend in the road. Perhaps the still photographers were more focused on the racing action, and that is why I have not been able to find a photograph (there is, however, this video which plays in a few second loop on Youtube).

I continue to be amazed by the sheer volume of spectators who swarm the mountainsides when ever the Tour tackles Alpe d'Huez. The so-called Dutch Corner has long been a staple feature during these years, and the many cycling fans from that nation turn that bit of roadway into a veritable sea of orange, parting only momentarily when a rider struggles upward against the tide. Since they can't see the roadway, I sometimes think the only thing that keeps the racers headed in the right direction is the tilt of the pavement. Anyway, this year Irish fans decided they were going to stake out their own piece of the Alpe - Corner #10 along the switchbacks to the top; they did a respectable job, the Irish tricolor was flying everywhere, the multitudes were dressed in green, and I am sure the roar was appreciably louder. Even so, they have a ways to go before they match the sheer spectacle of the Dutch Corner:

ASO/B Bade photo

Didi Senft. The most famous devil in cycling lore, and a roadside attraction in his own right, Didi the Devil missed last year's Tour due to surgery. He was back again this year though, right where you expect him to be in July. He didn't seem to have the same speed of stride as he ran up the Alpe, but he can still get some pretty good hang time from his trademark leaps:

Reuters: Eric Gaillard (full image)

Will Adam Hanson be the next Jens Voigt? On a day when Jens made his own daring-do attack on the way to Alpe d'Huez Hanson, who has become quite the popular rouleur anyway, endeared himself to many fans by accepting a beer hand up. There might be some stodgy old-timers (notice I am differentiating between being a traditionalist and being stodgy, and am not sure where the line dividing the two lies) who have something to say about professional conduct, but you have to like the light-hearted moment at the end of a long, physically and mentally, draining day.

One more memorable moment from Alpe d'Huez - Tejay van Garderen did not have the Tour he might have hoped for, so when he rode away from his breakaway companions and built up a healthy lead it looked like he was going to have his day. Alas it just was not to be, Christophe Riblon, from somewhere deep inside (and after sliding off the road into a watery ditch earlier in the day), found a second wind, slowly reeled Tejay in and sank the hook with two kilometers remaining. Van Garderen had no response, putting all he had on the road below, and Riblon took the win. It was France's first stage win of this year's Tour, and I am sure that must have been inspiration pushing Riblon to the top.

Marcel Kittel - I doubt I am far from alone in having watched with interest as the German sprinter has progressed over the past few years, taking on the competition at increasingly challenging races. Not two, not three, but four stage wins at this year's Tour, including the grand finale on the Champs Elysees confirm that his potential has arrived.

Nairo Quintana Rojas, Movistar's Colombian climbing specialist had about as successful a Tour debut as anyone could hope for. With a stage win, Mountains Classification and the Young Rider Classification, he clearly possesses more than just potential. 

Speaking of Quintana, I was going to disparage the "pure" climbers this year for their lack of attacking style a-la Pantani, Chiappucci, Claveyrolat, and others of their ilk. But then I thought of Rui Costa's two solo stage wins done with grand style, and realized that the mountains sort things out, sometimes from a long way out, other times from within the final kilometer. Either way can be exciting.

Finally, Chris Froome. Though I am sure many of us tried to disbelieve it, I think we all had a nagging little thought that the Tour was all but over following his dominating win at Mont Ventoux. With that showing I couldn't imagine anyone putting enough time into him to make any difference in the mountains, and the time trials, well, they would just help to extend his lead. Rarely did Froome seem to not be in control; it was quite a display of both physical prowess and tactical savy, picking his moments and doing what was necessary, when it was necessary to win. Chapeau!

Oops, I had to add this one in. Everyone's favorite Aussie racer, Stuart O'Grady, rode his 17th, and final, Tour de France this year. O'Grady noted that due in part to a successful Tour during which he was a valuable part of the Orica-Green Edge team which gathered stage wins and the yellow jersey during the first half of the race, made this as good a time as any to call it quits. One of my favorites for his determination, O'Grady is probably best known for his win at Paris-Roubaix in 2007. Beyond that though, there is much in his palmares to be proud of, both on the road and on the track. Happy retirement, Stuey.

grand old men of the bunch, O'Grady with Jens Voigt

Sunday, July 21, 2013

The 2013 Ontario Grand Prix...

The 15th Annual Ontario Grand Prix was run today under cloudy skies. Weather forecasters threatened us with some thunderstorms, but the clouds were kind of weak approximations of storm clouds, and it actually turned out to be a pretty nice morning. I only caught three complete races, the masters 50+, cat 4's, and masters 45+, as well as some of the earlier juniors (men 13-14, women 15-18, men 17-18). Apparently it was a day for the sprinters, at least during the morning races; I didn't notice a serious break in any of those I saw, and they all came down to a gallop. I guess I missed my opportunity today as I heard someone say that the 50+ race was slower than normal; too bad, that slow part would have played right to my strength. One final race in the series next month - series champions will win their jerseys on August 18. Besides the photos below, there is a selection of 72 here.

Marvin Hall (UC Cyclery / JW Floors) celebrates victory in the masters 50+ race

watch the outside...

surprise! Bill Harris (BBI-SIC Cycling) inches past the UC Cyclery/JW Floors men to claim three series bonus points in the masters 45+ race

Josh Ruiz (SC Velo) 1st, Anthony Fitch (MRI Endurance Elite Juniors) 2nd, Aubrey Smentkowski (Rokform/Rock N' Road) 3rd in the Jr Men 17-18

Christian Sanchez (ACQUA AL 2/SDBC) 1st finished ahead of Nick Robertson (SC Velo) 2nd, and Weston Giem (Rokform/Rock N' Road) 3rd in the Jr Men 13-14

the 50+ field lined out behind Gary Wall (Pinnaclife Racing)

Brad House (Big Orange Cycling) cornering in the 50+ race

Robert Paganini (PAA/REMAX) during the 50+ race - 70 some years and still going strong. you know, my first impression of Mr. Paganini is from the old Wednesday night training race at Griffith Park, maybe late 80s; i made a mental note to the effect that "damn, that little Frenchman (the fact that I couldn't differentiate between a French and Italian accent is another story) sure likes to cuss."

getting serious in the 50+ race

Cat 4's around the final turn

Cat 4's

45+ field

another victory for Craig Miller, 45+ race


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