“Timing Is Everything…”

Thinking back over the years (as I am prone to do occasionally) I can recall a significant number of instances when, for one reason or another, I was struck with what seemed at the time to be an excellent idea but eventually proved to be somewhat less than advisable. A number of ‘flashes of genius’ I have had while riding some enduro or another still stand out as some of the ‘most stupid-est’ (to quote from the vernacular of the pre-school population) things I have ever done (or tried to do, as the case may be). Several scars, a few X-rays and a couple of insurance-check-stubs point to the questionable judgment employed at various points during my relatively short yet illustrious career.

Making a light-hearted reference to a particular ‘non-mainstream organization’ from my ‘extended neighborhood’ (which made national news headlines several years ago) during a conversation with the former Rangerette of the Desoto District of our local National Forest proved to be less than a good move on my part. There was that fateful evening in 1981 when exercising my right to ‘freedom of expression’ took a decidedly bad turn when I soon discovered that one of the cars in the Downtown Laurel, MS parking lot was occupied by a plain-clothes police officer who was not amused with my display of overall general attitude. I could go on, but the Statute of Limitations may not be up on everything…

But then, every now and then, something works out which, when looked back upon, shows that the timing of the effort was as close to perfect as one could possibly hope. Much like hitting a Tie-Breaker Check right on the 30-Second Mark of your Minute when you know for a fact that it was by no means your own time-keeping skills that made it happen, you can’t claim all the credit, but it still feels just as rewarding. Such an occurrence took place recently, the details of which I feel inclined to share here today…

A respectable number of our friends and associates were in attendance at the Riders’ Meeting prior to the 2008 Blazing Saddles Kids’ Hare-Scramble when I presented my old pal Glenn E. “Mouse” Kitchens, Jr. with a MHPER custom-embroidered enduro jacket as a token of appreciation for the fact that he single-handedly launched me into the ‘World of Enduro’ back in 1985. His continued encouragement (some might call it pestering) to get me to finally take the plunge into the sport that has been such a prominent part of my existence for almost a quarter-century laid the foundation for every MHPER-sponsored SERA Event since 1991. Good, bad or otherwise, as any specific event turned out, it very likely would never have taken place were it not for the persistent and continued insistence from Mouse Kitchens in the early 1980’s for me to embark upon the adventure that began on Row 58 at the 1985 Turkey Creek Enduro and has ‘ripened’ into what it is today.

In the last few years, a number of people have commented on my apparent ability to ‘turn a phrase’ in a manner which seems to appeal to some people in an entertaining manner. As I sit here purposely poking computer keys designed to configure my thoughts into something resembling a comprehensible electro-document, it occurs to me that I really have no idea how to construct a collection of text which would adequately describe all that my involvement with the Southern Enduro Riders Association has added (mostly positive) to my meager existence over the last 23 years. Nor can I visualize what the Present might be like without the ‘influences’ (mostly positive) of my affiliation with the S.E.R.A.

I was told that, following the presentation of the jacket, Mouse mentioned that he really didn’t know what he did to rate receiving the disproportionately small token of my appreciation. I would respond with the simple observation, “He set in motion the series of events that eventually produced (so far) 34 Off-Road Racing Events which quite likely would never have happened had my relatively short yet illustrious career as an Event Coordinator not been established. And without ever having been a rider, it stands to reason that I would never have gone on to promote events and become the highly respected individual I am around the offices of the U. S. Forest Service…” That’s what I would tell him if I were able to do so.

I was told of his statement a couple of weeks after the hare-scramble and a couple of hours prior to receiving word of Mouse’s death due to the cancer that he had been beating the odds on for the last five years or so. Much like he did in guiding me along at my first enduro, Mouse showed us all how, when conditions turn bad, you don’t listen to what everybody says about how bad things are, you just keep going. He hung around, much to the surprise of the medical experts, for well over four years beyond the time he was supposed to have left when I first heard he was sick; not just sitting around the house, but building engines and racing cars the way he did when he was a teenager. Like the old enduro-rider he once was, he didn’t quit when the conditions turned rough; he just kept on going and setting an example that all of us can respect.

Once upon a time when I was but an innocent youth, I had occasion to hear the mother of a an old friend of the family mention how impressed she had been with all the flowers at her adult son’s funeral. She went on to say that she felt that it seemed a shame that it’s always after somebody is gone that most of us finally do something to show our respect, appreciation and fondness. That memory crosses my mind every so often, but like most people, I usually find myself falling into that same ‘trap’ of ‘waiting too late’ to point out what some of my friends have meant to me.

This time, however, I was offered the opportunity to ‘get it right before it was too late’ and, along with several dozen of the people who continue to benefit from what has evolved from Mouse’s effort to get me involved with the Southern Enduro Riders Association, I was able to express my appreciation for what he started. For that opportunity and for the appreciation shown to my old friend by those attending the ‘Presentation Ceremony’ I will be eternally grateful. The brief ‘cool snap’ that gave him the chance to wear the jacket at least a time or two was, I feel, a gift from God.

Glenn E. “Mouse” Kitchens, Jr.
October 1943 ~ April 2008
R.I.P.