LA/Barstow to Vegas 2020

 

I have tried since 2014 to make the final hard section into Vegas through Redrock Canyon. The bike has always broke and left me to far behind but this year we did it and it was everything I had dreamed of. After riding nearly 500 miles my next roll chart note read: 3.8 small rock garden. I rounded a turn and there it was, hundreds of meters of boulders, good proper hard enduro bullshit. Modern bikes and bodies strewn everywhere. Percolating clouds of antifreeze, puddles of blood, tears, and engine innards on the aluminum scared rocks. I never slowed or even acknowledged the other riders waiting in line or conjuring up their courage. Spectators jumped to there feet as I took creative high lines and zig zagged around the carnage of smoking stuck tires and burnt auto clutch KTM being tugged on by the sweaty faced. My stock bouncing diaphragm carbs began to flood and load up the engine so I gave the engine a few revs to clear out the 750cc double pumper. I heard somebody yell: "YEAH TRIALS GUY!" and a few shocked riders jumped out of my way as I kept on chugging through the ledges and boulders and then it was just me and the trail again. Solo as it had been since the morning before, back in Palmdale where we started. Or very nearly never started at all. It was 5:30 AM and still dark when I unloaded Big Beasty to head to a gas station and then to the event start. It was below freezing and the bike was not wanting to run on both cylinders. I checked the new old breaker points that came out of one of my junk storage coffee cans a few days prior. I went through the carb. And just when I was about to admit defeat and unload the back up bike (a preparation advised by the wisdom of the wife this year). I finally tried a new spark plug... Yup two hours late to the start to diagnose a fouled spark plug. DOH! Off I went. hitting all the stop lights out of the city, everything seemed good and then she just died. Nothing. Blown fuse. Grip warmers, lights, ignition? Nope the Regulator/rectifier had shorted. Damn. Who needs a charging system with points ignition anyhoo so I un-plugged everything except the ignition and bought a spare battery from a Chinese scooter shop on my way out of the city. My first stint out into the desert my odometer stopped working. At the next trail intersection I caught up to the sweep riders and fixed my odometer cable. The sweep rider looked at my set up and questioned me using only the roll chart and odo to navigate as he watched me wrap my odo cable with black tape. "No GPS?!" I told him I was good. I even had a spare battery strapped to my chest to prove it. I told him I am going to take off in front of him into the big desert and I hope not to see him again. And I didn't from there on out ol Beasty was as reliable and as nimble as an ox. All the way on into Barstow and then to Vegas the next day. I never had time to open my tool bag to use my left handed cigarettes, PBR beer, or the spare battery that beat my rib cage to a purple pride felt carcass. No casinos, tiki lounges, or even omelet house this trip but instead just good quality vanning with Cookie and Layla. Glory.