Hertfelder: Clint Eastwood Invitational

The Pine Rats enduro club was facing a cash flow problem: it
was flowing OUT really good but it wasn't flowing IN enough to
cover the thin rug on their clubhouse floor. Problem was; their
annual Pinecone Enduro had been going downhill on entries; at
one time they had a limit of 300 riders but the last three years
drew 120, 92 and a sad 80 last year.

They thought the heavily advertised "TOPLESS CHECK CREW"
last year would draw hordes of admirers of the human body,
but somehow the word got around that the check was indeed
topless but the exposed chests were covered with various
shades of mostly grey thatch. By great good fortune the
newest Pine Rat was a public relations expert, a press agent
named Norm, who was said to own various waterfront
properties which is a good indication of successful business
practices. However; Norm looked a lot like a used car
salesman with a drinking problem.

The rumor was that Norm was a recovered bachelor who
married late in life after his expensive Japanese inflatable girl
developed a case of terminal slow leaks.

This rumor may have been started by a fellow who had a
previous interest on Norm's lovely red haired wife.

Norm came up with a plan to increase the rider count at the
failing Pinecone by changing the name; the membership agreed
to let Norm 'develop' a can't miss new title and promised to
replace the worn tires on Norm's 350 Yamaha if he doubled the
rider count. Norm's new name, a foolproof draw if there ever
was one: THE CLINT EASTWOOD INVITATIONAL ENDURO.

The new name caught on like wildfire and some 342 riders
signed up for the inaugural "The Clint," and most brought at
least one woman for his pit crew. For the most part these were
women who didn't much care how their rider was doing out on
the trail but wanted a crack at Clint Eastwood for various
reasons. The club ran out of stick-on number tags and sent out
for a roll of pressure sensitive shelf liner which came in a
nauseous yellow daisy pattern on a chartreuse background.
Colorful but tacky, very tacky.

As soon as the riders were gone the women made wonderful
transformations; they were all dressed to kill and made up to
maim, which added a good deal of welcome glamour to the
firehouse where the Pinecone always started. One after the
other they pinned big Rudy, the club president, to the wall
asking; "where is Clint?" or demanding to know; "when will Clint
be here?"

Some of the younger women began snatching open the doors
on passing Ford vans--said to be Eastwood's preferred
conveyance. They stopped the practice when a departing
enduro check crew pulled two lovely young "keepers" aboard
and sped off with them.

The contestants began to finish riding the first "Clint" shortly
after noon. They were exhausted, mud covered, wet and
hungry as bears. They stumbled around among the women
often asking two or three of them for the van keys before
locating the lady who was holding them for safekeeping.

"Where is he? Where IS he?" the women asked each other as
the riders fumbled their boots off in the parking area, begging
young boys to open their bottles of beer--the 'EASY TWIST
OFF CAP' being as impervious as a bank vault to tired hands
with calluses torn off on three sides, oozing salt water and
hurting halfway to the elbow. Shortly after 2 o'clock the women
began chanting: "We want Eastwood! We want Eastwood!" and
the men who had signed on as rent-a-cops for the day suddenly
got a silent call for immediate assistance from the next town.

And the firemen, looking at $ 400,000 worth of fire trucks in the
middle of a mob, claimed they smelled smoke and drove off
upwind. By 2:30 the women realized Rudy had been in the
men's room for over an hour, and forthwith, tore the door off
before he came out with fists cocked looking to fight his way
out of a female lynch mob. He didn't have a chance. "Where is
Clint Eastwood?!" the women demanded.

"I...I...don't really know," Rudy stammered.

"Well how the hell can you call this THE CLINT EASTWOOD
INVITATIONAL ENDURO?" one of the louder women asked.

"Because we INVITED him," Rudy said, "I can't help it if he
didn't come!"