The drive was uneventfull, except my truck wanting to stall when it was really cold outside. I also got mixed up between Silver City and Silver lake, so I lost about an hour there, enjoying miles of scenic darkness with some street lights mixed in. When I finally got there and began searching for the mythical "Free Camping," I remembered that you get what you pay for. Instead of setting my tent up on the I opted for the daigonal sleeping accomodations in the cab of my truck. In the morning, did what all well-prapared racers do, including finding clean socks and goggles in my gear bag, and putting numbers on my bike (no duct tape!). I even made sure I had a full tank of gas!
Unfortunately, Derek was stuck in trafic with snow chain requirements and all that good stuff. Of course, being there for me did not really mean I was ready, because I thought the race started at 10:30 and everyone else thought 10. After scrambling to get all my gear on and getting numbers for Derek, I made it to the front of the starting grid in order to make my way back to my designated row 28. I think Derek usually errs an hour in the other direction for my sake, but he'll never admit it. The race started one row at a time, so my late arrival was of little concern then. Derek arrived just in time to wish me good luck and take some starting line pictures, and then we were off in a cloud of blue, sweet-smelling smoke! The start was fine and the pavement very short, but about a half mile into the course was a huge traffic jam at a rock hill. After getting through that, the course became mostly single track, with ocasional road sections. There were some steep downhills and another rocky hill with a consistent traffic jam. So Derek calls: "I'm stuck in traffic. There is a chain advisory but they want (a fortune) for chains so I'll keep driving and hope that it clears by the time I get to the grade. I was teasing him about the new parts I wanted to show him (my back tire) but that was for for the other bike and I didn't get it running in time, so I've only got the 125 and a new chest protector. Oh well.
The rest of the race is good, but I'm racing against myself at this point. I pass some people. Some people pass me. I see where the photographers are and try to look good at the right moment. It's good that there are no pros in this race, so nobody passed me going twice my speed, but they are going fast none the less. I fall once not making a hill, and start to realise that the 125s days are numbered. When I come in for gas I can't figure out the pits and Derek has to run down the hill to fill me up. On the third lap I'm ready to quit but it's not over so more gas and off again, so I concentrate on passing people. At the end of the fourth lap I'm dicing with a girl on a 250f and manage to pass her in the final few turns. At the end, they have a huge stack of fender cards, but I'm just happy to be done.
After the race Derek and I have lunch in Virginia City. It's a nice tourist town with plenty of nostalgia for sale, plus good food, desert, and wooden sidewalks. I have the drive over the grade to San Francisco to look forward to, so I refuel on coffee and cheap gas (In NV) and follow Derrek over the grade (Ironically, he's leading me!) That new Nissan has too much power, and I just can't keep up.
When (I'm buying MAC) I finally arrive in SF, my brother hs just leffor work. I hang out with Athea for a few hours and then we go to bar to meet him for about 15 minutes while he working, which is good. My truck with the bike in back fits into his garage with about 5 inches to spare.