Sportsman 125 heat I was in a good mood. VOILA! The bike with the old pipe (Charlie Brown handed it to me- neithe of us knew what t was supposed to be for....) was a totally different beast! It railed with a happy zing- and I swear it felt much much faster. I had been hoping for real results from the pipe. For one thing the old exhaust weighed in at 19 stone, and it was full of packing to keep it quiet. I went over and looked at the results from ythe morning- I'd finished 10th, and I saw #13 and #35 were the numbers of the two fellers ahead of me. I sat on the start line looking about. The two 125s in question were both Bultacos- one guy in a black shirt- with old red quilted leather Motocross Pants. The other was in blue- one red Bultaco, one Blue. (that could be a Dr. Seuss Book....) . I asked my girlfriend to tell me with the old hands apart signal whether they were close or far behind.

But none of that mattered. I got a good start, and the bike really seemed to be ripping along. It was a DELIGHT- especially down in the bowls- where you'd hit the banking, like a huge berm- it was grass, but it was banked so it wasn't slick. I saw the black T-Shirt, and he wasn't getting away. I chased him down to that same place where I'd caught Roger Kenyon in the morning. (in the 250 race) We were trying to out brake each other, and I blinked first, but I also got it turned first, and under him I slipped- an apexing war, straight out of the old days when I was Road Racing! I passed one bike after another- one here, one there. My girlfriend was giving me signals, but I never saw her even once! There had been four or five Elsinores on the grid, and my lowly Kawasaki managed to blow all but one of them off !!! COOL! Scott Fischer (of Powroll) who I did not beat won- , and I have a suspicion that he was on a Four Stroke. I'll have to find that out.