Trail Rider Magazine

January 2024 11 Brian and Tom were both southern California born. I think the point I'm trying to make is that on the staff of DB, we were all from different parts of the country and brought our regional perspec ves with us, making for a very well-rounded staff. Vic: "Rick came from Youngstown, Ohio, but wasn't he most at home in the desert? He raced Indian Dunes, DeAnza, Hopetown, all those classic races, but the desert was his domain, specifically the Ponderosa--you know, where the Dirt Diggers (Rick was a member), used to hold desert races in the late '60s, early '70s. Out in the wide-open desert, that's where he was the happiest. He took countless guys--I don't know, Ake Jonsson, all the Maico racers, Andre Malherbe, lots of very famous racers--out to the Ponderosa and suck them into chasing him, and then he'd ease into the whoop- dedos and just plant these guys! Boom! They'd go over the bars--he would just love it!" Paul: "You're right about that. I spent a lot of me trail riding with Tom Webb, at Texas Canyon and Frazier Park, staying on ght singletrack most of the me, and Rick would join us occasionally, but his heart was in the desert--he liked going fast, wide open. He dragged me out to that damned Ponderosa site, but I couldn't see the a rac- on--nothing but creosote bushes, heat, dust and whoopdedos." Vic: "I remember he talked me into racing Barstow to Vegas in 1974. I shipped my buddy Ron's 450 Maico out to Rick (I didn't want to trash my own bike!). We went out to the desert that weekend and we were on the line at Barstow to Vegas. I was in way over my head. He got out of sight, and I was thrashing around for hours, following these other guys who seemed to know what direc on to go, and we happened upon this guy in a Death Valley sand wash with his bike leaned against a rock, and it's Rick. What are the chances? He's got the mag cover off of his Maico, and I come up and stop and he hollers, 'Krause! Krause! You got a matchbook with you?' And I did find a pack of matches in my pocket, and he rips the striker off and starts filing down the points on his Maico--you remember they had a points igni on back then. So he cleans the points up, puts the cover back on and vroom! He was back in business. I told him I had the scare of my life about a half hour earlier and wasn't sure I was going to make it, but he said, 'Come on, you s ck with me, I'll get us both to Vegas and we'll finish this thing.' "So he took the lead and I followed, and you know we made it to Vegas and actually finished the race. I s ll have that finisher pin to this day." (Note: At the me, it was very unusual for Eastern riders to come out and try to ride something as crazy as Barstow to Vegas, so it turns out that Vic Krause also became part of an elite society of Eastern racers who actually rode B to V and managed to finish it. The accepted legend of B to V at the me was that no rider from east of the Mississippi ever rode Barstow to Vegas and finished it on the first try.) Once he got to Vegas, Rick was again very much in his element. He really enjoyed Marsh-Wheeling cigars and the company of friends around a poker table--es- pecially when his friends were losing to him--and it turns out we all have stories about Rick in casinos. Vic: "Rick was a hustler, too. He had an angle on everything. Remember his get-rich-quick schemes? He really enjoyed Vegas, it was like his natural home. I remember one me he called me up and said 'Vic! You go a come out! Come out next week!' and I said, well, give me a reason, is there a race or something, what's going on? And he told me "No! We're going to Vegas! I've got a system worked out; we can't lose! Come on out and we'll make big money! It's fool- proof!' "So I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm either greedy, gullible, or ready for adventure, and I go out. He tells me to bring $300 with me and we'll both go home rich men. So I get a cket, leave the business again--this me with a new girlfriend running the store, because the old one quit the last me I spent six weeks with Rick--and I go out. Rick had this old red truck, a real beater, and we drove to Vegas in this rat of his. On the way, he rolls out his system to me. In his "system," you go to the roule e wheel and put down two bucks on red or black, whatever. If you win, you pull your winnings back, but if you lose, on the next spin you put up four bucks. If you lose again, the next me you go eight--sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four- -and in his mind, it would almost never go to $128 before you'd win and rake back all that money. If it did, that's why you wanted that $300, so you could put up that final $128 bet. What could possibly go wrong? "I'm thinking, this is insane. I don't know why I'm doing this. The worst that can happen, I figure, is I can lose 300 bucks. So we drive to Vegas in this old clapped-out truck, we get there and he's so excited he's vibra ng--you know how he was.

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