Busted Axle Road
Copyright ©1992, 2001, 2007
Chapter 124
Mike was feeling better on Tuesday. He wasn't all the way back to normal, yet, but it was Tuesday at the Record-Herald, and Tuesday was a day you didn't miss unless you were the subject of a funeral. Kirsten left Susan with Jackie, and came into work, which helped.
She stuck her head into the office door, and said, "Hey, hon, we still need your column."
"I'm working on it," he said, turning back to the computer, where the words appeared on the screen:
"In the end, it took the videocamera to finally settle that Tiffany won the race, by the length of Ringo's nose, scarred in some long-forgotten battle. After they drove the dogs back to the house, Josh got in his car, took Tiffany down to the store, and quite ceremoniously presented her with a six-pack of pop.
"All in all, it was the most expensive six-pack of beer I never had. To put all the time, the money, and the work into those great dogs that I have, and to have to sit shivering in a hot tub watching their greatest moment on the VCR was rather anticlimactic, to say the least. However, Mark and I have already agreed that the finish of this race really doesn't settle the question of who has the faster team, so we'll have to do it again next year.
"But, next year will be a little different. Even before the race, all the hype that we'd put out about it got beyond the Spearfish Lake area, and we received several inquiries about whether this was a private race, or open to others. We decided that since this was a private bet, and really, just a demonstration, that we'd better keep it between ourselves.
"But no longer. It turns out that there are a few other mushers around the state. Not many, but a few, and they'll race when they get a chance, and a six-pack of beer is a big purse for them. I wasn't feeling very good on Monday, but I worked the phones a little, and managed to settle a few things.
"Since this is my column, I'm taking this opportunity to announce that next year, the Winter Festival will feature three, five, and seven dog sprint races, sponsored by the Henry Toivo Post 27 of the American Veterans of the Vietnam War. Also, in cooperation with the Warsaw fire department, they're going to sponsor an endurance race, 100 miles to Warsaw and back, on pretty much the route and schedule Mark and I planned.
"But, that's not all. In the last few months, Mark and I have received inquiries from a number of people that are thinking about starting their own dog teams. The more, the merrier, and we'll be glad to help where we can. There's one great old dog musher over in Warsaw that's forgotten more about dog mushing than we'll ever know, and he's agreed to help where he can, too; after all, he got us started.
"So, to help encourage things, the Spearfish Lake Humane Society has agreed to sponsor a special class in the endurance race. The Pound Puppies class will be limited to a five-dog maximum, and all dogs are to be either strays, or survivors of the dog pound. They've promised a nice trophy, and Mark and I will throw in that six-pack we were talking about.
"Josh Archer, who did a magnificent job of bringing Mark's team back from Warsaw, then had the good sense to know what to do to get me home safely, says he wants to run a team next year. I suspect his parents may have something to say about that, but my crystal ball predicts more dogs out in back of his sister's house.
"But Tiffany says she's going to beat us all, if I'll let her have the dogs. I think she's still a little young for an endurance race, but she's proven she can handle a sprint race, so I may have to let her settle for that.
"In a couple of years, though ... well, who knows where it could all end?"
Mike saved the story to a disk, then got up and slowly walked up the stairs to the layout room. He still felt a little weak and shaky, and promised himself that he'd take tomorrow off. He handed the disk to Kirsten, who loaded it in the 286 that was hooked to the Laser Printer, and read through the column on the screen. She read it down to the end, then shook her head. "You're right," she said. "Who knows where it could all end?"
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