Alan Westerfield's Short Creek Race Report (2007)
"White Lightnin’ Rides Again"

Race Report: Kentucky Off Road Hare Scrambles Series (KORHS) - Round 2 - OMA Round 1
Rider: Alan Westerfield - Bike 4th Place
Bike: 07 Yamaha YZ250F #4

By: Alan Westerfield

It was only three weeks prior to the first OMA round in Short Creek, KY. I was on the best equipment I have ever owned, had been to the gym faithfully, and had meticulously scheduled every aspect of my daily grind to achieve optimum performance. That’s when the Beaver Dam strand of the Flu hit me. Most people don’t survive this type of virus, but I’m a fighter and made it through with only a week’s downtime of my extra-curricular activities such as race preparation.

The week of the race finally rolled around, (actually, it hit me like semi when I least expected it.) And I was somewhat ready to race. My most important weapon in my arsenal this year would be my mind. During the off season, I have developed a mental zone in which I affectionately call “the idiot factor.” The concept came to me while watching the evening news when I noticed that Americans tend to stretch realism and base it on scientific hoop-la. For instance, when the meteorologist says, “We will see a high today of 95, but its going to feel like 105!” or “Its going to get down to a low of 20, but with those winds, folks, its going to feel like 5.” That’s when I realized that it doesn’t really matter how fast you are really able to ride, its how fast you FEEL! I have not learned to fully control this altered state of mind, so understandably it has already caused me grief.

Early Friday the boys and I were doing a demo ride at the bad boy camp in my town. During the show, I became concerned that boys were unimpressed with our lackadaisical performance. If JR stole 4 cars to be in this place, its going to take more than a little wheelie-poppin to get him excited. They wanted to see fuel, fire, and flesh. Enter- “The idiot factor”. I began hardcore stuntin’ and ended up being sling-shoted across blacktop contracting a nasty rash and rips in my brand new Moose gear. Needless to say, JR was impressed and I was a bit sore on race day.

Sunday morning revealed nearly all facets of Pro riders. The “dirty rottens” were there to represent the Euro and down under cultures. (I call them this because they are superior in skill and it eases my envy.) As always the “treasure hunters” were out in full force intending to find their pot-o-gold in the off-road world. Interestingly enough, we were also greeted with the “meat eaters” of the sport- the real factory pro riders; the ones that I always try to talk to but end up saying something generic such as “I bet that tire hooks up good!” Then you had me, the lone scrap-eater; still trying to escape my label.

The starting line was swollen with 30 riders. My lucky pick was #26, right in front of my only fellow KY rider- The Scott Summers. The flag was dropped and White Lightnin’ roared to life propelling me into the madness. She was running strong, but had no extra motivation to pass on the first grass track section in the blinding dust. In the first single track section, I tried to work my way around a few riders to pursue the front runners. This plan backfired and left me deeper into the pack as Chris “couch critter” Bach (Chris shows up at my place a lot to use my couch.) came motoring around. Finally, I settled into a disheartening pace and made passes when I could. Towards the end of the first lap, Adam Bonnuer pulled aside to let me by when his forearms pumped up like a blimp. That’s when “the idiot factor” took control. I began charging hard and set a respectable 2nd lap time. During lap 3 I became involved in a battle with another rider. We were running very close on speed but he seemed to make a few more mistakes. I let the rider by several times but finally decided to make the pass and try to distance myself. Soon we came upon a treacherous bottleneck in which two lines had developed. The line to the right was clogged with lappers, while the line to the left was open but mangled from spinning tires and sunken bikes. He waited behind the lappers for the easier route while I decided to take a chance and try the other, in hopes of making a pass. I cleared the section but was unable to complete the maneuver as I tucked in behind him at the merging point of the trail. He was yelling encouragement to me as he raised his clutch hand to tell me that I was #1. The guy must have not been a local though, because around here we don’t use that finger for #1. I’m sure it was just an honest mistake. The battle continued in the next valley as I finally pushed my way around. The position changed hands several more times but was finally secured for good on the following lap.

I am still trying recap the events of lap three, as it was 3 minutes off the pace of my other 4 laps. 3 minutes- that’s enough time to eat a sandwich and tell a good story. That’s the length of time it takes to play a Bon- Jovi song- not that I would know. One thing is for sure, that is 3 minutes of my life that I will never get back or know what happened to me. I hope it was nothing traumatic that is going to pop up in the future like on one of those psychic TV shows. What if someone did something so horrible to me on that lap that my sub- conscious blocked it out to protect me? Don’t laugh, stranger things have happened.
I picked up the pace on lap 4, hoping it was the final lap of the 13-mile circuit. Soon, I realized that there would be 1 more lap and that raised a very real concern that I could run out of fuel. I still had no idea what place I was in or who was in front of me but I continued a quick pace but was very careful to not use too much throttle. I had already abandoned the possibility of gaining more positions. With only a few miles left to go I came upon a KTM with what looked like a mini Shane Watts in the cockpit. I saw the blue backgrounds but thought it was just a lapper so I didn’t push the issue. Soon, the bike took off and I realized this speed was no lapper, but rather a rider who had been beating me all day. Soon after, the kid fell over in a rut and gave it away. We were less than a mile from the finish so I wanted to play it safe. I rounded the turn and made my way into the grass track. I thought my bike had sputtered early in the lap and was not convinced I had once extra ounce of fuel in the tank. Finally, we rounded one of the final turns. I saw Gasso shooting photos out of the corner of my eye and couldn’t resist going wide into the berm and throwing some dirt to enhance the pic. Meanwhile, the kid hooked up on the inside and stuck tight down the final stretch. I held the inside going around the final pole as I felt a decent sized jolt on my bike. He had tried the old take-em-out in the final corner trick, and fallen down. I give him an “A” for effort because the kid is fast, but with a dad like Jeff Russell; what would you expect?

To learn that I had earned a 4rth place position out of 30 pro riders, I was elated and felt that I represented the co-sanctioned KY series well. To get beat by 3 of the best factory riders in the country is an honor and it was a pleasure to have them compete in the OMA and our local series. I left it all on the track during that 2 hours and 22 minutes. With the race being less than an hour away from home, I had several fans and family members who have never had the opportunity to see what I do. I owe them all a tremendous thank you for giving me the encouragement to keep going on one of the best tracks I have ever ridden. White Lightnin’ would like to thank Moose Racing, ATEK suspension, Fastway/Promoto Billet, Thumper, and Mid State Motorsports.

Alan Westerfield