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Hope everybody who went to the ice races had a good time.
Well, anyway, four of us ended up racing — Toby got there first, Adam showed up just behind me, and Norm finally decided to take the plunge — err... well, you know what I mean. There were some bad rigs out there. Little Willys with hot motors and open pipes, big trucks, small trucks, family trucks, and one Eagle 2-door sport model. After practising (which amounted to us spinning around a lot and Toby commenting how he felt like he was flying and me thinking like I could barely go 5mph without losing it, which I did), the ladies went first and that proved pretty exciting. The winner was in a Nissan Pathfinder that was later used by her husband to trounce me. It's a single elimination event, so you lose once, you're toast. A lot of it is luck of the draw, what side you start on, what kind of vehicle and driver you're up against, etc. Well, luck was not exactly on the side of the CFSJA. We came, we saw, we got our butts kicked. Toby was first, and had a real good run, except that he was driving against a fellow in a Chevy pickup who does this every weekend. The name of the game is practise. Toby, last year's veteran was maybe a couple car lengths shy of victory, and decided at the end of the course to take Roy for a spin — literally.
Adam and family was next and I don't remember who he was racing, but he put up a good show. It was exciting--at the end, the other guy got out of control in that infamous glass section of the dog-bone shaped track and Adam wasn't far behind. He drilled the gas coming around the last corner but it wasn't enough; the other guy had gotten in control and got back on it, and won by half an FSJ length (the equivalent of one carlength for you traditionalists). Next up was yours truly. I got started on the 'good' side of the track, but it didn't matter much; my opponent was good. Really good. And it was my first time. No, I guess that's an excuse. He beat me good. I was doing ok as far as staying in control, but then that last infamous turn got me and I went sideways. I was able to recover, but lost so much time the other guy was probably getting out his hot cocoa in the pits by the time I got to my finish gates.
So after freezing our tails off on the windy, icy lake and being soundly defeated in each of our races, we decided it was time for photos and then off to lunch at the Dairy King now famous to many of us CFSJA'ers. Thanks to Roy for spotting me for lunch, thanks to Norm for entry fee, and thanks to Mike (Adam's dad) for the spot on tech fee. I was the Grand Mooch of the day.
Well, one of our specators (pit crew?) Kevin decided to go over Guanella what with it being right there waiting. Roy volunteered to follow Tantor in White Buffalo over the pass. Norm rode with me, his son Bryan (sorry if I misspelled that) following in Norm's 85. Toby and Adam headed back. I'm racking my brain but I can't remember the fellow who is next in line to drive a really nice silver 85 GW. Anyway, they weren't able to come along either. Maybe next time. The pass was stunning. Snow, trees, snow covered mountains. You know, the typical Colorado awe-inspiring thing. Truly amazing. The top of the pass we got out and did some photos and stared slackjawed at the wonder of nature. I didn't even know the pass was open in winter. Silly me. Well, anyway, it was plowed, with snow and a little ice here and there, but of course all our rigs handled it, no problem. And other than a couple of oncoming psychos going too fast and taking up too much lane, the driving was pleasant. In no time we were over in Grant, and heading up 285 back home. A truly excellent day was had by all! Michael
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On
the way up to Georgetown we hit little traffic. Norm Edson blew
by me in his hot rod Grand Wag with the recurved distributor and
gobs of power. He later told me he was "going 85 with plenty to
spare" ... my foot was to the floor at 55. 
Our
last, best hope was Norm. Norm was up against the Evil Eagle Sport
Coupe of Doom. This little vehicle is sort of a hybrid Jeep and
car. Well, you probably remember them from the 80's. This particular
one was one of the rare sport models, owned by Mike Lewis. Great.
Mike, slammed on the gas like no tomorrow and that blasted little
ride just wouldn't lose grip! He'd send snow flying in the straights,
and slow down to a speed that would've sent our FSJ's careening
off the ice 80 feet. He'd whip around the corners, and jam on the
gas again. Truly an amazing thing to see. Somehow he didn't win
the big prize — that was left to a black TJ. But it was quite
a show. Sadly, he was racing against Norm, so Norm's great ice racing
season was cut a bit short
