justalonewolf007
Member
- Apr 30, 2007
- 657
- 0
...So...
I've really had one of those weeks where everything I touch or drive or use just breaks. It started out with little stuff, a pencil, tearing a couple boxes, and other easily fixable things. Then Thursday rolled around.
I was sampling fields (drive through in the work pickupand get dirt samples to evaluate Nitrogen levels and a few other chemicals/organic matter), when suddenly I smelled something burning. I shut things down and peeked under the hood thinking I'd lit the pickup on fire (we lost two the year before last) from straw buildup.
Nothing was on fire, but it turns out that the AC was toast. So I had to finish work the rest of the day without it, which sucked big time because you either opened the windows to make it slightly more bearable, and inhale tons of straw dust and chaff, or keep the windows closed and breathe, but deal with sweat dripping in your eyes from the heat.
This is sortof a timelined job, so I didn't have the option of quitting work to take things in to get fixed. I pushed through from 11am that day, when things burnt out, until about 10pm. I got back just in time to move my junk out of my apartment so Armyboy could move back in since I subleased from him this summer. I broke one of my shelves in the move...and had all my smashable food get smashed.
The next morning, I had to leave early for work, dehydrated and exhausted (something about that kind of heat really takes it out of you). We dinked around and tried all kinds of things to get the AC to work, but to no avail. Since the timeline was running even shorter, my boss sent me off with an apology, and gave me Saturday off.
I got to work, and after two fields, the generator (used to run the hydraulic cylinder I use for getting samples) started smoking and quit on me. I tried everything I could think of to get it to go, but ended up having to go to town and buy a sparkplug, and borrow a wrench to get it off.
Long story short, I was "assisted" by a guy so fat that he couldn't get into the back of the pickup without aid of a short stepladder (which he had, luckily). He hit on me constantly and I longed to shoot him with a load of rock salt for the stupid stuff he said. When he got the cover off, and the sparkplug came out all black and fuzzy, I realized it was the air filter.
Finally located one of those after an hour's worth of getting sent around on a wild goose chase. Then I went back to my hot work, and discovered I had forgot to pack the sandwiches I'd made. I drank enough water, and had enough granola bars that I made it through the rest of the day, but it sucked big time.
I had supper with Armyboy, and at his insistence, watched a movie, making it about 2am before I left for home.
I knew I should've just gone home to sleep and rest, because I knew I'd be overtired, and dehydrated for race day. But I couldn't really go back and change the past.
Race day
I got up much later than I had planned, thanks to being overtired and dehydrated. But I loaded up, and headed out with a few minutes to spare. Without pushing speed limits, I would be there by about 15 minutes before registration ended. I was taking things pretty carefully too, since there was a pretty thick fog that morning too, but nothing that would last long. It would probably lift before I got to the track.
About halfway through my journey, disaster struck.
I felt a sudden jerk, then my car pulled heavily to the right. I pulled off the road immediately. It was a no brainer - the trailer had a flat tire. This was entirely frustrating, because I had no spare, and the tires on the trailer were very old and very cracked up. I am kinda surprised they actually lasted this long.
I gave myself about a minute to check things over for sure, although I didn't even need to look. Then I took another minute to sort through my options, then put in a call to my dad. He didn't have a spare, but figured we could locate one quickly enough to get me to the races in time for my first moto. My second option was a fail, since my brother's pickup was currently out of operation. There was no way I'd make it in time for hotlaps. To take less time, we split up and started calling around to find someone who would have a spare.
I dialed up my friend at the races, and told her to tell the organizers to register me since I would be too late for hotlaps, but would be there in time for my first moto since we were halfway down the list. That was a pretty lucky break, since every race counts. One of the other lady riders and I are neck in neck for championship points.
Then I called my boss, since he had about three trailers sitting in his yard. I figured he had a spare that would fit, and that my dad could pick it up and bring it to me. His wife answered, and promptly announced that he was still in bed, and then proceeded to wake him up despite my protests.
"You only call when it's bad news"
"Well, I was wondering if you had a spare wheel for a trailer."
He didn't even ask what size I needed, just:
"Where are you?"
I was about 15 miles out of town.
"I'll be right there."
I started to tell him that my dad could pick it up from him in about a half hour, and that he didn't even need to get out of bed, but he had already hung up.
My dad called back about three minute later to say that he'd finally found a spare wheel, and would have it to me in about 45 minutes. I told him that my boss was planning on coming, and that I'd call him back to just let my dad take care of things so that he wouldn't have to take the trouble.
That call took a few more minutes, since I was trying to describe where I was, and my dad just wasn't speaking the same language as I was, or something like that. In fact, he told me that I was taking the long way to the track, which I agreed that maybe I was putting an extra five miles on since I wanted to stick on main roads because of the fog, but he still seemed adamant that I was off my rocker for the route I took. (Turns out, he thought I was going to a different track that is about ten or 15 miles to the north of the one I was actually headed to, but I didn't know this, nor did he). It wasn't really an argument at all, but it took about ten minutes to explain to him where I was, and why I was there. I finally said that I'd better call my boss before he left.
Then I saw a familiar pair of headlights pierce the fog, and pull in behind my trailer. I had to cut my last sentence off about calling him, and said,
"...actually he is here."
I have, by far, the best boss in the world. He didn't bring a spare wheel. Instead he got out of bed early on a Saturday morning, showed up in his duty pickup in record time(toolboxes on the side, fully stocked with tools), with the aluminum trailer we use for scouting fields. It was brand new this summer. I was hoping for the spare wheel off the old crappy trailer we used in seasons past. He even brought the right size ball to put on my hitch, since my trailer required a different size than this new shiny one.
It took about 6 minutes to switch my bike over to the other trailer, and get the hitch situation figured out. Then he rolled my trailer into the ditch, pulled the wheel off, and took it back with him so that my dad wouldn't have to drive all the way out to where I'd left the trailer to fetch that wheel.
I was rolling again in less than thirty minutes of my disaster, and I am still feeling pretty humbled by the generosity and kindness of my boss. I am indeed lucky to work for him.
Hotlaps would be over by the time I made it there, but I'd have time to look over the track and get my situation straightened out before my first moto. In fact, I was kinda figuring that I wouldn't make my first moto.
When I pulled in, the track was unoccupied, everything was silent, so I figured they must be playing the national anthem, or having some sort of delay before the first moto was sent out. Then Trophylady (who also helps out at the entrance gates) informed me that hotlaps hadn't happened yet. They were waiting for the fog to lift.
I was kinda floored by that. I attributed it to divine intervention. I had to check twice to be sure she wasn't kidding me, and she wasn't! Then she made the joke that the fog would lift now that I was here, and as I drove through the pits to find a parking spot, that it'd roll back kinda like Moses parting the sea.
I just laughed and told her that I didn't have those sorts of powers, and that the big guy upstairs knows how to deal with that sort of thing WAY better than I could even try to. However, when I had found a spot to park, the announcer stated that hotlaps would start in about 5 minutes since "it looks like the fog is really lifting now."
That was plenty of time for me to unload and gear up before the ladies had their practice laps. I was stoked. This was too good to be just "good luck" or simple happenstance.
Practice went well, and things felt good. I didn't actually try doubling the triple in the corner that I'd mastered the race before, but I was just playing around, and having too much fun to try hitting something that just didn't feel comfortable at that time.
When playtime was over, one of the other racer dads found me, and I received a lightly used pair of tires for my 250 project. I mean, heck, the thing still had those little rubber flappy things between the knobbies. I really really appreciated that too!
The first moto was kinda crazy, it was still cloudy some, but it was hot and humid as a sauna. I didn't get a great start, but I held onto the tail of my competition, 801, for two laps. Then got an opening when she got a little sideways in a corner. The track was really pretty unpredictable. Things that looked nice and firm and packed were really rough and slippery! Lines that looked soft were actually not that soft at all. So instead of letting loose, I slowed up a little to take my time and not crash. I took 4th out of 6th.
A few motos before my 2nd, one of our vet riders took a bad spill and was being tended to by the DNF specialists (EMTs). He was walking back to his pits, about 1/4 mile away, with an EMT walking with him, but he was not looking too hot with two broken ribs. I told him to hang on so I could bring a chair for him to sit down (he was right next to my pits). But being the military guy he was, tried to refuse my offer since "your moto is almost up! You've gotta go get ready girl!" He is a stubborn old fart, but did sit down for a while. I was not late for my moto. Get well dude!
Moto 2 had an exciting start. 801 picked the gate beside me, but wheelied in the start. I figured I was going to take a bite out of her front wheel as it came towards my head, but I ducked and held things pinned and divine intervention happened again. I didn't get knocked off my bike when I really should've taken that wheel fully to the head and chest protector.
I made it through the first couple sections only a few bike lengths behind the bigger bikes, and was pretty stoked. In the next corner, the rider in front of me stalled briefly, and I passed her. I had a few more sections before I heard her coming back up behind me, but had to slow over a double for a yellow flag. She nearly hit me (she didn't see the flag, and I barely caught it out the corner of my eye).
Heck...I was in second place!!! Even if it wasn't going to last real long, I was pretty stoked.
I got passed by the 250 in the whoops, but I wasn't getting left behind like I thought I would be. Then she got sideways coming out of a corner, and I passed her again. This was good racing!! I was extra stoked and started trying a little harder to hit the corners faster and look up and through them instead of at my front fender. On the last lap she finally got around me, and kept things good through till the finishline.
I figured I had taken 4th again, which I was perfectly satisfied with. As I rode past the rider I had battled for second with, she held up 3 fingers. I got all confused. I figured the yellow flag rider had passed me, but I guess she hadn't.
I got 3rd out of six overall for the day. It was awesome. I didn't miss hotlaps. And when I called my dad to tell him I'd pick up the wheel and retrieve the trailer, it was already done and sitting in my bosses' yard with two brand new tires.
What a day!
I've really had one of those weeks where everything I touch or drive or use just breaks. It started out with little stuff, a pencil, tearing a couple boxes, and other easily fixable things. Then Thursday rolled around.
I was sampling fields (drive through in the work pickupand get dirt samples to evaluate Nitrogen levels and a few other chemicals/organic matter), when suddenly I smelled something burning. I shut things down and peeked under the hood thinking I'd lit the pickup on fire (we lost two the year before last) from straw buildup.
Nothing was on fire, but it turns out that the AC was toast. So I had to finish work the rest of the day without it, which sucked big time because you either opened the windows to make it slightly more bearable, and inhale tons of straw dust and chaff, or keep the windows closed and breathe, but deal with sweat dripping in your eyes from the heat.
This is sortof a timelined job, so I didn't have the option of quitting work to take things in to get fixed. I pushed through from 11am that day, when things burnt out, until about 10pm. I got back just in time to move my junk out of my apartment so Armyboy could move back in since I subleased from him this summer. I broke one of my shelves in the move...and had all my smashable food get smashed.
The next morning, I had to leave early for work, dehydrated and exhausted (something about that kind of heat really takes it out of you). We dinked around and tried all kinds of things to get the AC to work, but to no avail. Since the timeline was running even shorter, my boss sent me off with an apology, and gave me Saturday off.
I got to work, and after two fields, the generator (used to run the hydraulic cylinder I use for getting samples) started smoking and quit on me. I tried everything I could think of to get it to go, but ended up having to go to town and buy a sparkplug, and borrow a wrench to get it off.
Long story short, I was "assisted" by a guy so fat that he couldn't get into the back of the pickup without aid of a short stepladder (which he had, luckily). He hit on me constantly and I longed to shoot him with a load of rock salt for the stupid stuff he said. When he got the cover off, and the sparkplug came out all black and fuzzy, I realized it was the air filter.
Finally located one of those after an hour's worth of getting sent around on a wild goose chase. Then I went back to my hot work, and discovered I had forgot to pack the sandwiches I'd made. I drank enough water, and had enough granola bars that I made it through the rest of the day, but it sucked big time.
I had supper with Armyboy, and at his insistence, watched a movie, making it about 2am before I left for home.
I knew I should've just gone home to sleep and rest, because I knew I'd be overtired, and dehydrated for race day. But I couldn't really go back and change the past.
Race day
I got up much later than I had planned, thanks to being overtired and dehydrated. But I loaded up, and headed out with a few minutes to spare. Without pushing speed limits, I would be there by about 15 minutes before registration ended. I was taking things pretty carefully too, since there was a pretty thick fog that morning too, but nothing that would last long. It would probably lift before I got to the track.
About halfway through my journey, disaster struck.
I felt a sudden jerk, then my car pulled heavily to the right. I pulled off the road immediately. It was a no brainer - the trailer had a flat tire. This was entirely frustrating, because I had no spare, and the tires on the trailer were very old and very cracked up. I am kinda surprised they actually lasted this long.
I gave myself about a minute to check things over for sure, although I didn't even need to look. Then I took another minute to sort through my options, then put in a call to my dad. He didn't have a spare, but figured we could locate one quickly enough to get me to the races in time for my first moto. My second option was a fail, since my brother's pickup was currently out of operation. There was no way I'd make it in time for hotlaps. To take less time, we split up and started calling around to find someone who would have a spare.
I dialed up my friend at the races, and told her to tell the organizers to register me since I would be too late for hotlaps, but would be there in time for my first moto since we were halfway down the list. That was a pretty lucky break, since every race counts. One of the other lady riders and I are neck in neck for championship points.
Then I called my boss, since he had about three trailers sitting in his yard. I figured he had a spare that would fit, and that my dad could pick it up and bring it to me. His wife answered, and promptly announced that he was still in bed, and then proceeded to wake him up despite my protests.
"You only call when it's bad news"
"Well, I was wondering if you had a spare wheel for a trailer."
He didn't even ask what size I needed, just:
"Where are you?"
I was about 15 miles out of town.
"I'll be right there."
I started to tell him that my dad could pick it up from him in about a half hour, and that he didn't even need to get out of bed, but he had already hung up.
My dad called back about three minute later to say that he'd finally found a spare wheel, and would have it to me in about 45 minutes. I told him that my boss was planning on coming, and that I'd call him back to just let my dad take care of things so that he wouldn't have to take the trouble.
That call took a few more minutes, since I was trying to describe where I was, and my dad just wasn't speaking the same language as I was, or something like that. In fact, he told me that I was taking the long way to the track, which I agreed that maybe I was putting an extra five miles on since I wanted to stick on main roads because of the fog, but he still seemed adamant that I was off my rocker for the route I took. (Turns out, he thought I was going to a different track that is about ten or 15 miles to the north of the one I was actually headed to, but I didn't know this, nor did he). It wasn't really an argument at all, but it took about ten minutes to explain to him where I was, and why I was there. I finally said that I'd better call my boss before he left.
Then I saw a familiar pair of headlights pierce the fog, and pull in behind my trailer. I had to cut my last sentence off about calling him, and said,
"...actually he is here."
I have, by far, the best boss in the world. He didn't bring a spare wheel. Instead he got out of bed early on a Saturday morning, showed up in his duty pickup in record time(toolboxes on the side, fully stocked with tools), with the aluminum trailer we use for scouting fields. It was brand new this summer. I was hoping for the spare wheel off the old crappy trailer we used in seasons past. He even brought the right size ball to put on my hitch, since my trailer required a different size than this new shiny one.
It took about 6 minutes to switch my bike over to the other trailer, and get the hitch situation figured out. Then he rolled my trailer into the ditch, pulled the wheel off, and took it back with him so that my dad wouldn't have to drive all the way out to where I'd left the trailer to fetch that wheel.
I was rolling again in less than thirty minutes of my disaster, and I am still feeling pretty humbled by the generosity and kindness of my boss. I am indeed lucky to work for him.
Hotlaps would be over by the time I made it there, but I'd have time to look over the track and get my situation straightened out before my first moto. In fact, I was kinda figuring that I wouldn't make my first moto.
When I pulled in, the track was unoccupied, everything was silent, so I figured they must be playing the national anthem, or having some sort of delay before the first moto was sent out. Then Trophylady (who also helps out at the entrance gates) informed me that hotlaps hadn't happened yet. They were waiting for the fog to lift.
I was kinda floored by that. I attributed it to divine intervention. I had to check twice to be sure she wasn't kidding me, and she wasn't! Then she made the joke that the fog would lift now that I was here, and as I drove through the pits to find a parking spot, that it'd roll back kinda like Moses parting the sea.
I just laughed and told her that I didn't have those sorts of powers, and that the big guy upstairs knows how to deal with that sort of thing WAY better than I could even try to. However, when I had found a spot to park, the announcer stated that hotlaps would start in about 5 minutes since "it looks like the fog is really lifting now."
That was plenty of time for me to unload and gear up before the ladies had their practice laps. I was stoked. This was too good to be just "good luck" or simple happenstance.
Practice went well, and things felt good. I didn't actually try doubling the triple in the corner that I'd mastered the race before, but I was just playing around, and having too much fun to try hitting something that just didn't feel comfortable at that time.
When playtime was over, one of the other racer dads found me, and I received a lightly used pair of tires for my 250 project. I mean, heck, the thing still had those little rubber flappy things between the knobbies. I really really appreciated that too!
The first moto was kinda crazy, it was still cloudy some, but it was hot and humid as a sauna. I didn't get a great start, but I held onto the tail of my competition, 801, for two laps. Then got an opening when she got a little sideways in a corner. The track was really pretty unpredictable. Things that looked nice and firm and packed were really rough and slippery! Lines that looked soft were actually not that soft at all. So instead of letting loose, I slowed up a little to take my time and not crash. I took 4th out of 6th.
A few motos before my 2nd, one of our vet riders took a bad spill and was being tended to by the DNF specialists (EMTs). He was walking back to his pits, about 1/4 mile away, with an EMT walking with him, but he was not looking too hot with two broken ribs. I told him to hang on so I could bring a chair for him to sit down (he was right next to my pits). But being the military guy he was, tried to refuse my offer since "your moto is almost up! You've gotta go get ready girl!" He is a stubborn old fart, but did sit down for a while. I was not late for my moto. Get well dude!
Moto 2 had an exciting start. 801 picked the gate beside me, but wheelied in the start. I figured I was going to take a bite out of her front wheel as it came towards my head, but I ducked and held things pinned and divine intervention happened again. I didn't get knocked off my bike when I really should've taken that wheel fully to the head and chest protector.
I made it through the first couple sections only a few bike lengths behind the bigger bikes, and was pretty stoked. In the next corner, the rider in front of me stalled briefly, and I passed her. I had a few more sections before I heard her coming back up behind me, but had to slow over a double for a yellow flag. She nearly hit me (she didn't see the flag, and I barely caught it out the corner of my eye).
Heck...I was in second place!!! Even if it wasn't going to last real long, I was pretty stoked.
I got passed by the 250 in the whoops, but I wasn't getting left behind like I thought I would be. Then she got sideways coming out of a corner, and I passed her again. This was good racing!! I was extra stoked and started trying a little harder to hit the corners faster and look up and through them instead of at my front fender. On the last lap she finally got around me, and kept things good through till the finishline.
I figured I had taken 4th again, which I was perfectly satisfied with. As I rode past the rider I had battled for second with, she held up 3 fingers. I got all confused. I figured the yellow flag rider had passed me, but I guess she hadn't.
I got 3rd out of six overall for the day. It was awesome. I didn't miss hotlaps. And when I called my dad to tell him I'd pick up the wheel and retrieve the trailer, it was already done and sitting in my bosses' yard with two brand new tires.
What a day!
