Racing in the homeland

Last weekend started an exhausting month. Norfolk Classic Road Race started in Stanton, Ne on a wet stormy morning. I arrived the night before at my brother's house to take part. Like last year, I was the only St. Louis racer there, but this year the 3's were racing against the 1/2's and the fields overall were larger and stronger. Riders from Colorado, Kansas, and Minnesota showed up to really stiffen the competition. The course is a simple square, 32 miles in length. The hills are light rollers, and the wind is treacherous. I felt stiff from the 8 hour drive the day before and the rain didn't make me feel very confident. The race had a 1 mile neutral rollout and things seemed nice, then the race started. For the next 15 miles relentless attacks occurred. I stayed back with the group as I was alone in this one, and I had only myself to look out for me. About 20 miles in, I discovered that I had let myself hang back too much and I was gapped and out of the race. I was with a small group and we started to work together because we could barely see the main pack through the fog and rain. On the last leg of the first lap, we were just four guys. 2 guys seem to be fading hard. Turning for the second lap, one of them bowed out, three guys. We start hitting the rollers and the two guys behind me are struggling. I waited for them on a couple of hilltops, but finally they waived me on.
I solo'd for about 30 miles. No pack in sight for most of them. Finally I caught them with about 6 miles to go. I settled in for a rest in the back of the pack. In the last two miles the attacks started again. I just held a wheel, and kept holding. Suddenly I see the finish. I sprinted not for the placing or to beat anyone to the line. I just wanted to end this thing. 3rd in the field sprint, 10th overall. After a post race beer, my brother, his wife, and I packed up and headed over to a local Stanton bar called the Wolf's Den for a true Nebraskan style post race meal:
Can't argue with a 1 lb. burger, Onion rings and a couple of beers and still get change back. Later that night we met up with some friends in Martinsberg for some more beers and more incredibly awesome burgers. However, I didn't test the town law:
I really did try to bribe my brother to test them though.
The next day started with some dime sized hail hitting town. The cat 5's were cut short because of it. I waited it out at my brother's house, not sure if the race was a go.
It went on. The course was wet and fast. Even more out of state pro/1's showed up to put on a real cooker. 25 mph average on an 8 turn course in the rain, it was rough. A crash early really broke things up and it was utter confusion for me since. I just kept trying to go as fast as I could with the guys around me. Somehow my final placing in the 1/2/3's was 11th. I think I was lapped by the leaders, but I'm not sure.
The weekend was fun but the Monday morning I had to leave, this time with another vehicle, borrowed from my brother and another old eagle in tow to scrap for parts on mine. I haven't ridden at all this week, everynight has been spent tearing apart the parts car and collecting the keeper parts. We'll be done with that this weekend and start repairing the damage on the original. The project car will look really good when done.