The 1992 BC Oldtimer national motocross race at Mission Raceway could have been the worst mud race of all time. It wasn’t so much the amount of mud, although make no mistake there was lots of it, but the type; a slick cream of wheat texture that filled and hid every rut no matter how deep and sucked a rider in until he was up past the foot pegs and could only stand up, walk away, and look for help. Plus it was pouring rain all day. There was even a short poem written about the race.
There’s a law for riding mud that only the strong survive;
Always the weak shall perish and only the fit will thrive.
Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled, palsied and lame,
The rider falls, mud prevails; he lives but his mind’s insane.