[Gordon]

Back in the mid-70's, our off-road club was once facing a cash flow problem. Actually it was flowing OUT really well, but it wasn't flowing IN enough to cover the paper plates we were using as number plates! The main problem was that our annual enduro had been suffering a declining number of entries, having gone from a high of 300+ riders down to the previous year's sad field of only 80 or so. We thought the heavily advertised "TOPLESS CHECKPOINT CREWS" would draw hordes of admiring riders, but somehow the
word got around that the check crew was indeed topless, but the exposed chests were covered with various shades of mostly grey hair.

Luckily, one of our newest members was a public relations specialist named Leroy, who was said to own six motorcycles, all of which had good tires, which is a good indication of a successful business. He actually looked more like a used car salesman with an overeating problem, and he was rumored to be a recovering bachelor who married late in life after his expensive inflatable girlfriend developed several terminal leaks. This rumor, of course, may have been started by a fellow who had a personal interest on Leroy's previous wife, a lovely redhead with very healthy proportions.

ANyway, Leroy came up with a plan to increase the entry list by changing the name of our event to a foolproof draw if there ever was one: THE STEVE McQUEEN INVITATIONAL ENDURO. Naturally, the new name caught on like wildfire, and some 542 riders signed up for the inaugural event. Even better, most brought at least one woman for his pit crew. For the most part, of course, these were women who couldn't care less about how their rider was doing out on the trail, they just wanted a crack at Steve McQueen for various reasons. As soon as the riders were gone, the women made wonderful transformations; they were suddenly dressed to kill and wore make-up to injure, all of which added a good deal of welcome glamour to the starting area.

But one after another they pinned Big Jim, our club president, to the wall asking; "Where's Steve?", and demanding to know; "When will Steve be here?" Some of the younger women began snatching open the doors of Ford vans, which was said to be McQueen's preferred mode of conveyance. They stopped that practice when a departing check crew pulled two lovely "keepers" aboard and sped off with them.

The rest of the young lovelies kept pestering Jim; "Where's McQueen? When will he be here?"

Shortly after 3:00 o'clock the women began chanting: "We want McQueen! We want McQueen!" Then all our rent-a-cops suddenly got a mysterious silent call for immediate assistance in the next town. With them gone, we were looking at a field with over a million dolars worth of motorcycles in the middle of an angry mob. Several club members swore they heard someone calling them, and ran off into the woods. Then at 4:00 o'clock the women realized that Big Jim had been in the porta-potti for over an hour, so they tore the door off and dragged him out. He never had a chance. "Where is Steve McQueen??", they all demanded.

Big Jim finally gave up and stammered, "I... I... I don't know! I don't know!"

"Then how the hell can you call this THE STEVE McQUEEN INVITATIONAL ENDURO?" one of the louder women YELLED.

"Because", Jim muteered fearfully. "We invited him. I can't help it if he didn't come!"

Big Jim suffered a lot of bruises that day, but the club treasury was healthy for another year.

(Edited from an old Ed Hertfelder story.)

[crfsonly]

ok...someone is going to ask so it might as well be me...is that a true story? and was it really your off-road club?

when i was a kid i looked up to steve mcqueen in a major way. just the simple fact that he would still race even after he was 'famous' was so cool.

great story...true or not.