The 1980 category three race at Tasajara was the first race of any kind won by me. It was a pretty ride only eighteen miles long, starting on the east side of Alamo, and going southeast through the countryside finishing just as it reached the outskirts of Livermore.
The race was totally uneventful. It rolled along at a smooth and steady pace that was very comfortable for me. I had never seen the finish area, but it had been described to me by others, and I had imagined it in my mind over and over again. The finish begins with the road becoming much wider, dropping down to go under Highway 580, and ending at the top of a rise a short distance later. My efforts at creating a mental picture were right on the mark.
We were going pretty fast (40 mph) as we went under the freeway, and as I began to pass some riders on their left, one of them made an extremely abrupt sideways movement and slammed into me. Not having left much room, my wheels rubbed up against the curb, but I managed to have the wits not to fall down. I really should have downshifted for the rise, but I was afraid to take the time to do so. Fortunately, I had done plenty of weight training that winter, and I continued to muscle my way past the other riders. I was clear by three bike lengths as we crossed the finish line. I later discovered that both of my tires had to be replaced as their sidewalls had been destroyed by their interaction with the curb.
My first victory! And it had seemed pretty easy. This did much for my confidence, and it also made me a marked man amongst the category three riders. One of my prizes was a black anodized, all aluminum (including the bearing races) OMAS headset. As soon as I got home, I removed the tired and pitted headset from my bike, and did a meticulous and perfect job of replacing it with the OMAS. I used so much of the expensive Campagnolo grease and the OMAS seal tolerance was so tight that I had to use some real heavy artillery to get the top race screwed down far enough. But the effort was worth it; that headset never saw a wrench again until ten years later when I had to replace the bike's fork.