A long time ago I used to ride motorcycles (dirt bikes)racing cross country and just puddle jumpin’, you know trail ridin’ with friends. Well in 1984 Tiny Bill, Jackson and I decided we would go race the grand daddy of ‘em all “Barstow to Vegas.” It’s a 175 mile point to point race with about 1500 riders. Well, it took place on Thanksgiving weekend, so armed with thanksgiving leftovers we left for Barstow about 3:00 AM Friday morning. We got to Barstow about 11:00 AM and checked into a Motel 6. We would only be there for the night ‘cause the race was Saturday morning early. Since there were three of us and only two beds we flipped coins and I got the floor. We were kickin-back watchin’ football when we heard some clatter from outside. Jackson peered out the window and said “it’s the maid with the towel cart we should grab some extra towels.” “Sounds like a good idea,” I said and got up from my sleeping bag. It was pretty cold out and I was in just my boxers but I figured that I would just run out, grab the towels and run back in. Well I ran out, grab the towels, turned around and the door was shut. I banged on the door and Jackson yelled “who is it?” “Open the door Jackson” I said. Jackson peered out the window and said “Bill, it’s Mitch!” We were all so tired that it really seemed funny and we started crackin’ up. Luckily Jackson opened the door before I froze or got caught by the maid.

Tell’em Mitch says hey