Being new on the enduro scene I had some preconceived notions on what to expect and how to behave. Some advice that was offered was helpful, most was not. Example: Just ride wide open after the first check. Everybody is always late after that.

To be sure that there would be time to overcome any problems, I arrived at the event on Saturday, the day before the race. Sign up was not unlike a motocross, not much anyway. It didn't dawn on me at first that most of the people there were at least as old as I was. After observing the proceedings, I signed up and was handed a sheet of stickers all with the same number in Magic Marker. The dumb look on my face told the story that I had no idea what to do with them. It was one of those moments that seem like a lifetime. It must be true that men will never ask for directions, because I stood motionless until help was offered.

"Just stick one on the left side of your helmet, the second on the front number plate and the third on your fuel can." It's hard to accept looking like a beginner at 41 years old. As I was walking away, I was told that I needed to get a sound test stamp. "Sound test Stamp? OK. Which way?" He shook his head and pointed to a van on the other side of the campground. I held my head in rookie shame.

After the sound test, new ignorance surfaced. Having recently learned to set the time on a VCR, programming an Enduro Computer proved to be impossible. Again the dumb look surfaced and help came. This time a skinny red haired kid on a BMX bike came to the rescue. Within minutes he had it programmed and gave a quick lesson on how to read what it was telling me.

Having completed all needed tasks, I returned home and tried to keep calm. The next morning would be the beginning of a new adventure. The excitement was getting to me!

Sunday morning was here and I was there! "What to do I do now?", I thought. Hopefully, there would be a riders meeting to gain some kind of idea of where I needed to be and when. Sure enough, a call came in the form a honking truck horn. I joined in with other riders at a road crossing. The fellow in charge seemed an unlikely type for such position. He was a tall, thin, long hair, aging rock star type. He began talking and I listened as his Mississippi accent spilled slowly out of his mouth.

He was a amusing fellow and started with an apology for the event host. Seems that he was arrested the night before for public nudity. I thought to myself that this might not be the laid back sport that I'd heard it was. The story continued, "I saw the police report and it seems that old Bill was picked up by two Police Officers around 11 p.m.. They had put him in the back of the patrol car and gave him a chance to explain his lack of cover." Old Bill replied, "I was at a party and after much drinking someone suggested that all the women take their clothes off, and they did. Later it was suggested that all the men take their clothes off, and they did. Then someone said, 'Lets go to town!'. Well, I guess I'm the first one here!"

The story was a good one for me and showed that I was with people who took the day for what it was - something to be enjoyed, and not to be taken too seriously.

After some useful information on possible problems on the course, there was some insight from our leader that I enjoyed. He said, "We won't have a prayer today. But, we all are lucky enough to have jobs, enough money to feed our families and own motorcycles. We are lucky enough to have this fine day and these beautiful woods to ride in, so there must be a God."

Well that's all the inspiration that I needed. Next thing to do was line up - row 1 position A. Some riders chuckled when they spotted the sticker on my plate. I figured that it was easier to let faster riders by than try to pass trail hogs.

As my key time approached 2 minutes, I started up and twisted the throttle till the engine cleared out. 1 minute till the start and my stomach wrenched. Then I felt a tap on my helmet. I jumped in panic. "Hey Jumpy! Dead engine start!" Another rookie mistake.

Finally the card flipped and we were underway. The start was clean and I fell into second on my row. After a few turns, I checked the computer and found another mistake. It was not turned on! Ouch! Another self-inflicted wound.

Not much ground was covered so I didn't worry about it. Ten miles or so later I checked the computer and noticed that we had a reset and I was now 13 minutes early! Looking up I saw the rest of my row being busted at a check. I locked up the brakes and because of the tall grass the crane neck checkers could not see my number! What luck! I quickly U-turned and hid in the weeds for a while. Thirteen minutes is a long time for a rookie to wait. I waited and zeroed my first check in my first enduro. The checker yelled, "Good job!" as I passed through. I grinned and started breathing again as I realized that I had not been detected as the turn around rider.

As not to bore you with complete blow by blow, I managed to stay on time at most checks, except one. Remember it's supposed to be fun, so I kept smiling. Back at the truck I waited and watched as the riders came in. It was fun to watch the graybeards limp in. (oopps I'm one!). I was amazed at the teenagers wheelieing down the campground road. They were still full of energy and talking about making another loop.

Finally the results were being posted. I didn't expect to win and the score sheet reassured me that I didn't. As my lovely and I loaded the truck, a rider congratulated me on my win. "WHAT WIN?", I asked. He said there was an illegal check and it was thrown out. Sure enough the check that I did the worst at was out of the picture. Within minutes I went from 4th to 1st place!

Beginners luck is a beautiful thing. I had a great time and would have been back anyway, but I needed this for fueling the fire.

E-mail Mike Dufour!