Posts
62
Joined
4/1/2008
Location
Jacksboro, TX
US
Edited Date/Time
10/4/2022 1:03pm
Nov 21, 1971
50 years ago Joe Joiner and I traveled to California to test out desert racing and visit with friends, I am going to share my Barstow to Vegas Race experience.
Racing around Texas in the 60’s and early 70’s in dirt track, enduros, cross county, trials and motocross I had never even thought about desert racing until Joe Joiner said, “let’s go do this”. My initial thought was I know I can be somewhat competitive because I had been in everything else on two wheels.
So dad and I pulled off the short track set up on my Bultaco Pursang and put the MX stuff back on. Joe had been doing research and told us to make sure I have a place for a small tool kit, extra fuel and water. So from short track set up to desert set up took dad and I about 3 hours!! (umm really!!)
I had heard stories of over 3,000 racers in a single desert race and thought that was cool, just get a good start, gas it and go. Since I had ALWAYS been a good starter, even leading several MX races that had first left hand turns …I thought "I got this"… LOL.
All I heard for a week leading up to the race is make sure my bike starts on the first kick, so every time my bike was out of the truck I would practice kick starting, jump on and go… “I got this.”
Simple rules: bike must start on first kick, do not try to jump some sort of little bushes or rocks and no matter what stay on the trail. O’yea make sure our pit crew provides a flag of some sort to make it easy to find them at the gas stops. I think the first gas stop was about 30 miles into the race.
The morning of the race I was a bit scared hearing all these bikes plus I was cold, felt waited down with spare parts, bike was heavy… and that was when I felt I may be in a little over my head. Joe and I headed to the starting line finding a pretty good place to start… no little bushes or rocks were in front of us for at least 100 yards!! They start the tire fire which is about 5 miles away that we are supposed to race too then find “the trail” to Vegas!
Sitting on the starting line waiting for the bomb to go off seemed like forever. Then boom there it was, I kick my bike…. It didn’t start! I kick again and took off thinking… just ride a little harder for a few minutes and things will be fine. I rode hard trying to dodge bikes, rocks and those little bushes. I would get into tank slappers, couldn’t see 30’ in front of me, bounced off rocks but kept pushing waiting for the dust to settle knowing I would be near the front. Dust never settled… I couldn’t even see the smoke so I kept following riders. Pretty soon those 3000+ riders I started looking for the fast trail past the smoke. When I finally could look right and left there was over 100 fast trails full of riders. I would switch from lane to lane still thinking I could catch the leaders… well at least a couple hundred of them.
The racing trail narrowed down to single trail with rocks on both sides. My patience was running out following people so I took off on the side of the ravine…then bam I hit a rock, went down busting the ignition side case….no big deal get up and gas it again. Must have went about another 5 miles and we hit some open desert. I knew I had lost a great deal of time so once again I pulled off the trail to pass some riders…. It was working. I was swerving in and out of those “little bushes” that we were not suppose to try and jump. Not sure how fast I was going but I was in about 4th gear and then one of those damn little bushes jumped out in front of me. I pulled one of those cool little high-speed wheelies to “jump that little bush”. When I got up my visor was torn off, front fender gone, handlebars bent, busted tail section and hurt pride. Several riders stopped to see if I was okay and told them to go on… “I got this!”
So now I was just in survival mode looking for the first gas station to get my act back together. But wait it wasn’t over, I looked down and noticed I had a flat front tire. I don’t remember how I but I fixed it. The trail I was in finally came to the top of a hill… I could see the first gas stop which looked about a mile away. The trail went right away from the shortest direction to the gas stop so I “left the trail” headed what I thought was the shortest route. After about 10 minutes I ran into some sort of high looking sugar canes, they were so tall I lost vison of the gas stop. I kept riding almost blind for another 20 minutes until once again I could see the gas stop. I arrived very late… riding up and down pit lane but no gas truck. I finally ran out of gas having to put my little bottle of gas in my tank so I could keep going. I was riding towards the highway looking for help when I finally ran out of gas. I buried the rear wheel in the desert sand and took off walking to the highway. A pickup finally stopped and told me I could ride in the back to Vegas. After about a mile I noticed another pit lane I had missed and there was my truck about a ½ mile off the highway. They stopped let me out and I walked to my truck. Keys were in it with a note: “got tired of waiting”. I started the truck heading to my Bultaco sitting out in the desert sand all alone. I made it there loaded up the bike and took another “short cut” back to the highway…. Dammit I got the truck stuck in the sand. A tow truck had been pulling people out of the sand came over and offered his help… for $20. I said sure. He pulled me out… I drove about another 200 yards and got stuck again… I stood there waving another $20 bill at him.
I finally got to the highway headed to Vegas with my head hung low, freakin’ worn out and stressed. When I arrived to Vegas Joe was extremely excited about his finish and asked how I did. I took him to the van, open the back door and said “someday I’ll tell you the story”.
The End,
MK
SAMPLE PICS
50 years ago Joe Joiner and I traveled to California to test out desert racing and visit with friends, I am going to share my Barstow to Vegas Race experience.
Racing around Texas in the 60’s and early 70’s in dirt track, enduros, cross county, trials and motocross I had never even thought about desert racing until Joe Joiner said, “let’s go do this”. My initial thought was I know I can be somewhat competitive because I had been in everything else on two wheels.
So dad and I pulled off the short track set up on my Bultaco Pursang and put the MX stuff back on. Joe had been doing research and told us to make sure I have a place for a small tool kit, extra fuel and water. So from short track set up to desert set up took dad and I about 3 hours!! (umm really!!)
I had heard stories of over 3,000 racers in a single desert race and thought that was cool, just get a good start, gas it and go. Since I had ALWAYS been a good starter, even leading several MX races that had first left hand turns …I thought "I got this"… LOL.
All I heard for a week leading up to the race is make sure my bike starts on the first kick, so every time my bike was out of the truck I would practice kick starting, jump on and go… “I got this.”
Simple rules: bike must start on first kick, do not try to jump some sort of little bushes or rocks and no matter what stay on the trail. O’yea make sure our pit crew provides a flag of some sort to make it easy to find them at the gas stops. I think the first gas stop was about 30 miles into the race.
The morning of the race I was a bit scared hearing all these bikes plus I was cold, felt waited down with spare parts, bike was heavy… and that was when I felt I may be in a little over my head. Joe and I headed to the starting line finding a pretty good place to start… no little bushes or rocks were in front of us for at least 100 yards!! They start the tire fire which is about 5 miles away that we are supposed to race too then find “the trail” to Vegas!
Sitting on the starting line waiting for the bomb to go off seemed like forever. Then boom there it was, I kick my bike…. It didn’t start! I kick again and took off thinking… just ride a little harder for a few minutes and things will be fine. I rode hard trying to dodge bikes, rocks and those little bushes. I would get into tank slappers, couldn’t see 30’ in front of me, bounced off rocks but kept pushing waiting for the dust to settle knowing I would be near the front. Dust never settled… I couldn’t even see the smoke so I kept following riders. Pretty soon those 3000+ riders I started looking for the fast trail past the smoke. When I finally could look right and left there was over 100 fast trails full of riders. I would switch from lane to lane still thinking I could catch the leaders… well at least a couple hundred of them.
The racing trail narrowed down to single trail with rocks on both sides. My patience was running out following people so I took off on the side of the ravine…then bam I hit a rock, went down busting the ignition side case….no big deal get up and gas it again. Must have went about another 5 miles and we hit some open desert. I knew I had lost a great deal of time so once again I pulled off the trail to pass some riders…. It was working. I was swerving in and out of those “little bushes” that we were not suppose to try and jump. Not sure how fast I was going but I was in about 4th gear and then one of those damn little bushes jumped out in front of me. I pulled one of those cool little high-speed wheelies to “jump that little bush”. When I got up my visor was torn off, front fender gone, handlebars bent, busted tail section and hurt pride. Several riders stopped to see if I was okay and told them to go on… “I got this!”
So now I was just in survival mode looking for the first gas station to get my act back together. But wait it wasn’t over, I looked down and noticed I had a flat front tire. I don’t remember how I but I fixed it. The trail I was in finally came to the top of a hill… I could see the first gas stop which looked about a mile away. The trail went right away from the shortest direction to the gas stop so I “left the trail” headed what I thought was the shortest route. After about 10 minutes I ran into some sort of high looking sugar canes, they were so tall I lost vison of the gas stop. I kept riding almost blind for another 20 minutes until once again I could see the gas stop. I arrived very late… riding up and down pit lane but no gas truck. I finally ran out of gas having to put my little bottle of gas in my tank so I could keep going. I was riding towards the highway looking for help when I finally ran out of gas. I buried the rear wheel in the desert sand and took off walking to the highway. A pickup finally stopped and told me I could ride in the back to Vegas. After about a mile I noticed another pit lane I had missed and there was my truck about a ½ mile off the highway. They stopped let me out and I walked to my truck. Keys were in it with a note: “got tired of waiting”. I started the truck heading to my Bultaco sitting out in the desert sand all alone. I made it there loaded up the bike and took another “short cut” back to the highway…. Dammit I got the truck stuck in the sand. A tow truck had been pulling people out of the sand came over and offered his help… for $20. I said sure. He pulled me out… I drove about another 200 yards and got stuck again… I stood there waving another $20 bill at him.
I finally got to the highway headed to Vegas with my head hung low, freakin’ worn out and stressed. When I arrived to Vegas Joe was extremely excited about his finish and asked how I did. I took him to the van, open the back door and said “someday I’ll tell you the story”.
The End,
MK
SAMPLE PICS
That's what I loved about the sport back then. Riders were a lot more willing to try different kinds of racing instead of just specializing in one type. That's why I love to see former MX pros go into offroad and rally racing.
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Anytime you get 300+ guys and 6-8 close friends together--there's always a race!
Wrote this story on my first LA-to Barstow to Vegas 16 years ago. It was my first Dual Sport event on a XR400 and haven't looked back. Did three more on my KTM520 which was much much better.
D-37 puts on this event every Thanksgiving. 👍
https://www.vitalmx.com/forums/Hall-of-Fame,25/LA-to-Barstow-to-VEGAS-o…
I have his old trophies from the Vegas to Reno, mint 400, Baja 500, etc. so I know he did well but would love to see full results from these SCORE off-road races in the 80s. As a family we would love to find these results and pair them with the trophies and photos he has so we can share stories with him while he recovers from his extensive brain surgeries.
Any help would be appreciated. What a cool time to be racing and these guys were true badasses.
Here's his first installment
....50 years ago today, on a Wednesday morning, Mike Kidd and i headed to California to ride our very first desert race in the Mojave...we spent the previous 2 days getting our bikes ready, all our gear together and loading his Dodge van for the trip... We were going out to ride the famous 180 mile 'Barstow to Vegas' desert classic that ran annually the Saturday after Thanksgiving...my cousin Linda Kirk advised us to come a week early and ride the 90 mile SoCal 'Turkey Run' desert race the preceding weekend so we could get an idea what desert racing was all about...(her husband, Steve Kirk, was a top expert class desert racer)....we both had been racing motorcycles for the previous 5 years but had never ridden a desert race and she thought it wise to get a little experience before we lined up with 3000 other riders for the start of the "B2V" race...the 1971 Barstow to Vegas race had the largest number of riders in history pre-registered to race with rumors of numbers of 3200 to 3600..we never found out what the real number was...(our first 'warm up' race had over. a thousand riders...the starting line was a mile long, 3-4 bikes deep)....we were going to stay nearly 2 weeks with a high school friend who now lived in the San Fernando Valley which was a perfect base for us to work on our bikes etc...we were really pumped and excited ..filled with anticipation to really get to ride a California desert race...we loaded our stuff, got in the van, stuck a "Breads Greatest Hits" tape into his 8 track and headed off....
I'd love to go back in time and do one of those true Mass Start desert races, what a spectacle.
I did have the chance to do the Stumpjumpers Desert 100 quite a few times before they started splitting it into rows but it was still a fraction the size of some of those OG desert races.
...i m going to get towards the end and tell our story about what happened exactly 50. Years ago today and Tonite...Saturday night the 20th of November 1971..Mike and i got to California Thursday night the 18th...we stayed there with Tommy (my old high school buddy we were staying with)...Friday we unloaded our bikes and gave them another examination and loaded em back up...on Saturday morning' we met up with and followed Linda and Steve to the starting and pits area of the. Big SoCal Annual 90 mile hare scrambles race of two 45 mile loops...they found the Checkers pits and we all unloaded...suited up...gassed up and went to the sign up and got our 'pie plate' number plates, and tank cards .... went back to the van and taped them on...we were not members of district 37 so they put us in the Expert class instead of Amateur or Novice... now. we were free to go ride and check out the start line and practice running to "the bomb".....usually 1 to 2 miles away ..and everyone exiting to the left of the area and returning to the pits...we had made 8 or 10 practice runs together...we ran 8-10 trips ....Mike let me lead a coupla times then id let him lead...it was fun watching Mike ride...Mike was 18 then...strong, extremely talented, safe and calculated....Mike was as FAST in the California desert just he was fast at everything he rode...we finished up...went back to the pits and Mikes van... we camped out till past dark talking over camp fires and eating, resting, going over our bikes over and over...Mike going over his Bultaco and me going over my Honda......checking our tires, checking and oiling our chains.......all the camp fires went out around. 9 pm for most people but a few people could be heard messing around till about 11....we got in our van, got in our sleeping bags early so we could hopefully be fresh enough to ride the days long race ahead...we had really no idea what was ahead but we tried to get to sleep around 9:30. but we were so wired we couldn't go to sleep or stop talking about what the real race might be like and what our practice trips to the bomb were like....everything in the huge 200-300 acre race area finally got quiet and we finally got to sleep around 11.....
....to finish this 5 day long story...fifty years ago today....Sunday, November 21, 1971....Mike and I woke up from the sounds of 2 stroke Motorcycles being fired up...just a few, then more and more until you could hear them every where... seemed kinda early to me at around 7 am....we got up...ate a few pieces of 'energy' bars of some kind and suited up and got ready to finally go up to the start line.....we gave our bikes 2 or 3 more go oovers...checking this..checking that...oiling our chains again...checking our small tool kits we were going to carry...pliers, spare master links...spark plug and wrench...i wore an old olive drab Army surplus field jacket with 4 big pockets and fillled them all ...Mike did the same but i think he wore a red Bultaco jacket with big pockets,,,we got our helmets on and made our way to the crowded start line....it was probably 10 minutes before the start and we suddenly realized we hadnt filled our gas tanks since yesterdays practice runs....we fired our bikes back up and hauled buns back to the van, grabbed our gas cans, took our caps off and were topping off our tanks when we heard this HUGE roar of around 4 to 6 hundred motorcycles as they took off to the bomb....we freaked out , finished gassing our bikes up, slung the cans on the groud, fired our bikes up and hauled it back up to the start line..the amatuer and experts leave first and then the novice class starts 30 minutes later.... the line was full of novice riders tryin to get in their spots for the start and Mike and I got through and gassed it to the bomb....there were probably at least 3-400 bikes in front of us, maybe more...the visibility was terrible with that many bikes in front of us, all kicking up dust...every reason to get a good start....I lost sight of Mike in all the traffic and got in a fairly fast group of about 15-20 bikes and hung with them as traffic started thinning out like it does as you get farther into the race... we started passing a lotta guys you could tell had got a good start and were not really racing but just riding the event..not to win anything but have the thrill of riding the race and geting their Finisher Pin....I had pretty good luck with just a small get off in a tight turn in a sand wash...my front wheel plowed in and i went down ...i was going pretty slow so no damage...got going again and about 25-30 miles into the race, i came around a small hill on my left and started meeting 15 20 or more riders coming around the corner going the opposite direction...everybody slowed down as most of the wrong way riders were going by on our far left side....we rounded the turn and in front of us on the left was one of the biggest mountains i had ever seen a motorcycle try to climb...it was all sand, as all the desert is, and all the riders were getting way back and trying to get a fast running start up this huge 'hill'....some were making it close to the top before they lost traction and started shooting huge rooster-tails up into the air and back down on anyone and everyone who was behind or under them....I finally found me a spot and took off and made it up about 2/3 the way before i broke my momentum and had to stop right behind a rider who had gotten bogged down snd stopped right in the line i had chosen to take...I finally made it over and about 15 more miles i came into the pits...they gassed me up, olied my chain, wiped my goggles and sent me back out for the second 45 mile loop....I didn't see mike anywhere since the start and figgered he was way in front of me somewhere...my cousin Linda told me that I was running pretty good when i came through the pits.....I did pretty good on the second loop with just a few get offs but nothing serious...i was lucky enough to finish 2nd 125 Expert finishing at around 100th overall..probably partly due to me making it up the big hill that had to be a big problem for all the other 125 riders...I finally found Mike at the van when i came in and he had had a flat tire somewhere...i cant remember if it was the first or second loop..hopefully Mike will chime in and give his version of the race..i was very.sad to see this for i really felt like if Mike had finished, he wudda finished WAY up in the 250 expert class against some real desert pros....maybe even winning the class...he was that fast...it wound up that we were both disqualified for missing our 'start' check....when we were gassing up our bikes, evidently we missed the guy riding up and down the start line punching or marking everybodies tank cards....after we finished, we, loaded up our bikes and came back to Tommys house...Tuesday or Wednesday my cousin Linda checked with the AMA score keeper for district 37 desert racing...Ron Bishop I think...and found out about our disqualification ....she told him about our gassing up incident and were first time dist 37 riders and he wound up giving me my 1971 dist 37 points....Linda told me that some of the SoCal club members said something to her about a seeing the fast 'pie plater' on a red Bultaco Pursang come through ...the club members putting on the races pay very close attention to 'pie plate' riders...especially fast ones...Mike would have had a great finish had he not had a flat on his front wheel......pretty amazing for a 'first timer'...i was thankful to the Good Lord above that neither of us crashed hard or got hurt..we still had the 180 mile long Barstow to Vegas race coming up the next Saturday after THanksgiving....
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