Because Golf Sucks

In festinatio veritas

In Which I Ride a Motocross Track (Reprise)

On the one hand, the last (and only) time I rode a motocross track, I spent the time alternating between absolute terror and complete exhaustion.  I was fairly miserable and overwhelmed. 

On the other, while growing up in New York City - and way before the roadracing or anything else on two wheels - I somehow became infatuated with motocross while obsessively reading issues of MXA and dreaming about a bike of my own.

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At work one day, someone casually suggested to me that I should do a Day in the Dirt this year. 

As I understand it, Day in the Dirt is probably more festival than race.  It’s a three day party where people from the film and motorcycle industries get together thanks to Troy Lee at Glen Helen and race and give each other high-fives until they can’t stand up or lift their arms anymore. 

Everything about this event sounds like heaven to me - except for the fact that I can’t ride a motocross bike.

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Nothing to do, I guess, but buy a motorcycle and learn how to ride it.

I suppose from the outside, it was obvious that I would end up buying a Husqvarna again.  On the inside, there was much hand wringing over the bike.  I spent a ton of time on the forums and tried to buy an RMZ250 from a WMX pro who couldn’t focus on setting a date to bring me the bike and a CRF250R from another similarly distracted seller.

Eventually, it was how starting a new CR125 immediately brought me back to the first motorcycle I ever rode - an 80cc 2 stroke at camp one summer - that sealed the deal.  It’s all two stroke ring with the smell of oil in the air.  

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I rented a truck and headed out to Milestone’s, “Entry Level” track to see what’s what. 

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The internet assured me that I could ride like I still had training wheels while rolling the jumps and limping through the corners.  

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In all honestly, there’s not a lot to tell about the two days I spent out there other than I had a blast, it was fucking hot and I only crashed once.

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My crash was predictable.  I was fresh off two days at Rich Oliver’s place and I was getting a little comfortable with a sideways motorcycle.  I was both tired and confident - and that always spells danger.

In the middle of a corner, I lost the rear, then the front, then the rear again. I think I was still trying to save it while I was laying on the ground with the bike on top of me.  Damage was limited to a scraped up and bloody forearm.  I look at it more of a warning than a crash.

While packing up after the second day, I looked at my hour meter.  

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The bike had been running for less than 100 minutes and I could barely stand up.  I had apparently solved (perhaps temporarily) the terrified part but of motocross but not the exhausted part.

I suppose it’s a reminder that if I’m going to do this event, when I’m not on my MX bike, I need to be in the gym.

Fair enough.  We’ve got a deal.

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To the bike’s credit, the tool kit I packed was never needed.  

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So… So far so good.  Maybe I can do this motocross thing after all.

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