Saturday Craig and I loaded up the car and headed down to Sykesville, MD for the aptly named Psycho Cross Race. Yeah, it seems every region in the country seems to have their own Psycho cross. I get it a play on words psycho and cylco. I would guess that none of them could claim legitimately the name as much as the Sykesville edition, as this race is actually held on the grounds of closed and abandoned psychiatric facility. Cool venue, really cool course. (2 runs, a log, barriers, and all the off camber a guy could dream about- Cheers Sportif Gentlemen) With the week's worth of rain, we had ourselves some classic cross conditions!
It was a pretty damn good day for those Fabulous Vanderbacon Boys:
I can't say we ever both hit the box on the same day before. Maybe when we were wrestling. Maybe not. So that was pretty rad. I haven't had too many trips to the box in recent years, so I'm beyond stoked.
The days of rain before the race made for some heavy sections on the course. Perhaps more concerning was the parking situation. The promoter warned folks who didn't have all wheel drive to not park in the upper field lot. Craig and I don't always take good advise.
As we packed up the Honda Fit, and got ready to pull out, we watched as a gentleman in beautiful white front wheel drive Passat plowed into the deepest, darkest, muddiest section of grass- the last 20 yards of the field before making it back to the asphalt. He immediately got stuck as his front wheels spun out.
Craig, ever the citizen of the world, hopped out of the Fit and began to help push the guy out of the mud. I rolled down the window of the fit acknowledged a woman from The Bicycle Outfitters Team getting ready for her race parked next to us. I asked her, "what's the first rule of racing cross in the mud?"
She smiled at me and said, "Green means go!"
I stepped on the gas, and revved up the full 4 cylinder Honda motor and took off, heading for the exit of the field. I took the high line to the left, trying to capture just a small section of green grass and keep my traction. I passed the man with beautiful white Passat, still stuck in the mud and rolled on to asphalt looking back at my brother with a huge shit eating grin on my face.
Craig smiled, and commented to the driver of the beautiful white Passat, "you gotta take that line."
Yeah, I probably got lucky, but you know, Saturday was a good day to be one of the Fabulous Vanderbacon Boys.
thanks for reading.
respect
fatmarc
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