Friends and I took off today for a ride. I heard about this ride all week long. "It's technical" was one of the descriptions. Others mentioned some recon work for later rides. Breakfast at the casino, and off the the trail head which leads to Death Valley National Park. Having driven this back road in, it has been a desire of mine to do, well until 2:45 pm today. The opening trail was great. I was warned that there were going to be some rocks. I didnt pay much attention to that. Some rocks became many rocks which became all rocks 4 miles out. I felt some rock training was in order so I jumped in with both feet and a hand on the gas. We saw some of the most beautiful single track all at 10 mph. Rocks tend to slow you down. Now Im not talking about pebbles or river stones. Imagine the small being 35lb loose shale and boulders. I was warned before I left to fill my tires to 20 psi as to avoid flats. Funny thing about air in tires. The more of it, the less control you have. 16 miles of beautiful single track with smatterings of two track. All filled with rocks.

The road home
All was going famously, I was on my game and heading down a beautiful river bed that criss crossed the landscape and was a natural flow. Still no sign of dirt or sand yet, I am beginning to wonder if dirt or sand exists in this part of the world. I motor on. Getting into the swing of things, I find myself at the top of second (seriously there are a lot of rocks) and heading down this river bed. This is when talent ran out, ego left and I was on my head. Separated shoulder, mangled head pipe and plastic that looks like Swiss cheese, I find myself looking over my feet at my bike which is still running. As I stand I look down the valley to see the next town. It's a long, long way off. I pick up the bike, which starts first kick and motor on. Later I would get my shoulder back in the socket with full range of painful motion but motion none the less. Finally make it to the truck, load up, home for three wonderful beers and a new respect for riding in rocks.

I found the ride has become all that much cooler the further away I am from it. I suspect by this time next year - Remember that super cool ride we went on last year?
Motrin is a wonderful pain killer.

Brief ride report: I was only able to race then I returned home. This is what I got from my visit. Another successful WORCS race has come and gone. Friday afternoon, I loaded the scooter and headed towards Southern California. I got into the track about 7:30 all the while in an air conditioned truck. A quick phone call to locate my friends camp and I parked. Whoa! The humidity and heat hit me like a wave. September in Southern California is a bit muggy. Think tropical but with heavier smog air. Mull around the camp, bench race over many bottles of water then quick to bed. Saturday morning came with a bright sunrise. It was on everyone's mind. Friday's temperatures were breaking 100, weather report was; it was to be hotter on Saturday. Optimism was there but the early morning heat had everyone thinking what is it going to be like later when we race?

The morning unclassified race - like a sighting lap or four to get your bearings of the track you are going to be racing later with one change. Everyone can ride it. Mayhem was the best way to describe it. The course wasnt hard, just for some people they werent prepared for some of the obstacles. I think they were more motocross people then off road. If a track isnt eight feet wide, they just dont know what to do. In this case they locked it up, went over the bars, stalled it and fell on their buddy. I was looking around for Warren Miller or Candid camera, it was a cluster of people. Now this didn't happen once, about every time the track narrowed or changed from dirt, they just lost their minds and their bikes. Being a good off road mind, I chose to cut to the chase and cut the course with the other errant riders. Around the pack and whoa! Glen Helen Amphitheater? This is in the course? We all turned around to find the Officials are now out guiding traffic back on course.

Once back on course things are looking up. Wait. Stop. A tunnel. OK everyone. One bike at a time. Three can not fit, though it was tried. After that mayhem I am beginning to wonder what will the race be like? Are we going to be fighting like Los Angeles Traffic? After all where better to do this then the Los Angeles stop?

Through the tunnel things are moving again and being recorded for memory. OK, big drop here, lay on the gas here, be ready for the quick turn here, dusty area here. All stop! A bridge? Looks like fun, lets give it a go? But first lets wait for the crowd to stop looping it out up the stairs. Scratch that, cut the bridge I got course to see. The rest of the course was more moto then trail, though it was to my benefit, it seemed many in my class didnt like the river rock and it opened much passing opportunity. This brought us back to the famous National track and Talladega Turn. There is nothing like it. Flat out as fast as you can go, like a rollercoaster. The mayhem had cleared up and the full course was able to be ridden. Two more laps and back to the truck.

The waiting is the hardest part - Thank you Tom Petty. I was able to sit in the shade and the breeze was nice but it was still 90 degrees. My race was to go off at 2:30. Not the hottest part of the day but pretty close. The WORCS people are pretty nice people. They were nice to let the pros practice for an hour before my race. They left the track in the best condition anyone could want, if you are like me and like square edge bumps, 10 wide ruts with g-outs and bomb holes out of the ruts up hills. It was heaven when we got to the track. All those nice lines already pointed out! The race is an hour long. Honestly with the track as long as it is, you dont notice the time pass. Just laps and how many can you get in. The bike ran great, I did better then I expected, mostly I came off the track with a smile as wide as they come and loaded with hours of bench racing; which started as soon as the jersey came off and beer in hand. If you ever get the chance to ride in one of these, dont pass it up, they are great fun.

Thanks to:
Rocks Racing Service, wife and my clients whom without I wouldn't be able to do this.

I was entered in the Sandbagger class (Jr) and I had the best weekend for bad starts. You couldn't have done any better then I. I went 4 for 4 for crappy cement starts. Yeah I was too cautious. I was more concerend with getting home and work on Monday (which I was late to...) then a five inch wooden trophy. More practice, I should be good.

Aside from that I put in 20 great laps around the mile long track. Enjoyed the constant watering, loam and gravel (which has now developed since they are no longer to add topsoil.) Took a baseball size stone to my neck in my first heat on Sunday. It's amazing how when the adrenaline is racing, you don't really feel it. The staff did an excellent job at running motos, getting the track groomed each night, making sure everyone got a parking spot. Fortunately I couldn't tell you how good the medics were, since most of them are friends I will just say they are good.

The pro race was unreal. The gossip was Ryno was talking smack about MC. I don't know if this was true or not but McGrath held a School on how to ride motocross both days. Star pupils were Ryan Hughes, Dowd and Ty Davis. All of them tried to keep Jeremy honest but it didn't last too long. A typical moto for McGrath was; turn the throttle at the starting line, burp it at the finish line, rinse and repeat 10 times over. If Ryan was talking smack it was quelled quickly buy the shower of roost MC was throwing off his tires.

Early mornings, late nights, sleep deprivation, cement starts and sandbaggers only mean one thing.
One hell of a great time.

Forever on the boot search last weekend I got to see first hand two new boots. One I was really excited to see was the Scott Genius. While a neat looking boot, perhaps the name was set a we bit high. I'm sure the people at Scott know what's up with the boot now, and the next version should be good. But if you have tried them, the toe box is HUGE. Little too big to be shifting a motocross bike with. Meanwhile on the large toe box subject, the Carmichael Berik boot. Who let this boot leave the factory. ONE ride from my friend on stock foot pegs and the left boot sole has a hole in it. You can get the Brick on eBay for a hundred and a half, don't expect them to be the greatest MX boot. The name is where the greatness seems to have left it. The neat part about the scots is the sensitive areas on the boot. For positive feeling on the shifter and brake. As for the toe box, a new shift lever will solve the problem, but that's $50 more added to the $500 boots.

The boot companies gotta realize fashion needs to follow function, not the other way around. I am very happy with my Oxtar boots and the old Alpinestars, These companies figured it out right.

Today I had a fight. A tear down all full on brawl with the woman. Ok the Other woman. The bike. I hate you! I love you, take me back. No I hate you! The track hasn’t seen moisture since summer rains. And that was back in July. The dirt is super slick, slity and hard underneath. All the suspension settings I was using back in July are useless now. So back to messing with the suspension. This is a task  I don’t enjoy. So there I am screaming at my bike. Five laps later, new settings. I hate those even more! Five more laps. I don’t know if the bike is better or just fatigue? I’m not calling her until Monday, let her figure this all out and get back to me!

Went to the local track for a fun ride, did some laps then I was working on turning speed. Just practicing getting the bike into the rut looking forward then accelerating. For many of you this is easy. For me I am having a breakthrough. I am stoked about riding. Like 24 hours a day stoked. So there I am slotting these three bermed up turns. Various obstales between the three soon a YZ 125 jumps in, then a few minutes later a thumper, then an XR 400, then some kids on trail bikes. An impromptu session for 30 minutes no one did anything but run these turns. I don’t remember who stopped but smiles were all around.

Rolling the bike into the garage looking up at the setting sun over the Sierra. Today was a great day!

Speed is relative. I am coming to understand that with Motocross. Each week I go out to ride just like you and soak in the fun. Some weekends it’s a race some it is just a ride. When you ride the same track all the time you play little games with yourself. For me, that game is attached to my wrist. A cheap $6 digital watch with a stopwatch which I time my rides. How many laps can I do in 10 minutes, 20 minutes. Can I ride for a full 30? The last race I was at, I got to ride with some of the really fast guys. Following their lines and trying to mimic them. After the ride I approached them and asked a question or two. What I came away from the lesson was, look Further down the turn. I was looking ahead, just not far enough.

Now back at the local track I gave it a go. Wow. The set up is this. Our local track is comprised of multiple tracks laid on top of one another. Being that there is only myself or a friend on the track we never run into each other. Not saying it isn’t possible. Just rare. In one corner is a big SX style bowl turn that I have been hitting faster and faster. Out of this turn is whoops and a big single. The looking forward trick shot me out of the turn like a bullet. I was a full gear higher and accelerating to then next gear. Before I knew it I was launching off the single and overshooting the next turn. I took a boot size measurement of where I landed at the end of the ride. A full 12 feet further. By the end of the day I had adapted to the further launch and made the turn. In fact it put me a gear higher for the next set of whoops.

What I love about MX is even on the same track, if you challenge yourself you always go home with that Hero feeling. You are better today then you were yesterday.

Well she’s gone. I feel vacant. I hate to admit it but I’m actually sad that I sold that bike.
Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, and selling the Lil’ One Fiddy was something I didn’t want to do. I have to say I had more fun on the 150 then I have ever had on any other bike. I mean Smiles to the mile. Riding it is full hero riding. The throttle is tapped and you are pushing it through everything you can. Why did I sell it? To catch up on past bills. Every now and again we over commit ourselves and I did just that. I really feel good paying the bills but my garage is so much more empty.

The bonus is, my neighbor whom I got him into the whole 150 thing, bought one and now he wants to sell me his, financed. We will see how that goes. Maybe a 150R?

The week was supposed to be different. But sometimes things just work out the way they do. For about a month prior, I had planned on going to race Glen Helen and the Vet Nationals. But life got in the way and I wasn’t able to go. In fact the whole crew that was going all decided at the same time for one thing or another, we wouldn’t make it.

We decided that we were still going to go racing, I mean come on, racing is racing. So we decided to race a local race and have some fun. The morning turned out great. I woke up at 3:11 nearly a half hour before I was supposed to wake, but I was excited. I made the trek to a friends house where I would unload my gear and load it up with his. I arrived at his house quarter to five. By five we were on the road. We had so much gear that the gear bags were strapped to the top of the bikes. I’m thinking the whole way there. There is no way am I going to have that gear when we get there. Sure enough there it was. We unload and its cold. Burr cold. So cold none of the bikes want to start. After two dozen kicks the bikes light. Out onto the track. For what ever reason they moved around the practice so now I only get two laps on the track. Its ok. I’m in good sprits. Then the riders meeting. Yep, last race of the day. 15 motos and I’m at the end.

Moto one: After watching the first 14 motos I was excited to get on the track. A little too excited. I dumped the clutch and stalled it in the gate. Kick, kick nothing. Pull the hot start, kick, kick nothing. Neutral kick Go! Winding my way through the track I find the trailing end of the race. Pass this one, soon another. I worked my way from 12 to 6^th by the end of the race. I was a great practice session, sadly I wouldn’t get to ride again for another few hours.

Moto two: After a suntan and the thrill of the screaming Minis. Those kids haul, I line up on the gate. Gate drops and I bolt. Holeshot by the second turn I would be in third enjoying the yummy goodness of silt, pebbles and rocks. YUM. Well this moto was a lot more fun, full race, I was passed cleanly by two mates I race with all the time, and we never were more then wheel off each other.  The race was fought to the biter end and in the end I was back in 6^th.

I love racing, you always walk away with a ride you are proud of. It gets the best of you and that’s all that matters. For what it’s worth, not a person was injured. That is really cool.

Busted out of the cage this morning for a good old trail ride. A got an email about a day or so ago. Drew Im on my way up, lets do a trail ride. Sounds good to me, so this morning at 7am, got the bike prepped and ready and pulled out of the garage. The beauty of living here in the Eastern Sierra, you can ride from the garage to your trails. Usually just out the garage for 100 yards to the dirt. The morning was bright and sunny I met Jesse for the morning ride. Deciding on which direction to go, we agreed to explore rather then burn in existing trails. Learn some new trails for the future so to speak.

So out onto the trail, Jesse has a beautiful 06 YZ250 and runs the perfect amount of two stroke oil. It was like perfume. But I had to take the lead and Dirt Track style some turns. Fourth gear pinned and sideways. Gotta love the thumpers for that. We went over hills, trails and rock. Perlite, pumice and don’t forget the cinder and lava rock. Years ago this area was a big volcano. We got to the valley floor and started to explore. Not so much for the trails but a some prospects. We snooped and looked. High and low, nothing too interesting. Time to bust out a map.

On the way back it was getting late. Heading back I knew we had a couple of water crossings to make, still early I was leery. Hell it’s fall and all the water has spilled out and should be fairly shallow. So I watch Jesse make the crossing, flawless, I go for my turn. Into the water, I see a few rocks so I give the 450 a jolt of gas to lift the wheel and splash, into a deep cold hole. Full whiskey throttle I blast out of the creek. Blow out any possible water I may have caught and headed for the next one. Three crossings in all and soaked to the bone.

I need to work on either waterproof gear or better at crossing rivers.

Man I am Jonesin for a race. I read cycle news with reckless abandonment. Straight to the calendar. Where is a race. For those that don’t race, I hope you have had the chance to. If you never had, you really need to try it. There is nothing like sitting on the line waiting for the gate to drop. If one were to describe it, it would be Christmas, your birthday at 12 and 21. You get the bike and you go to the bar, you meet the woman of your dreams and she breaks your heart. All in that second of a moment in time as the pin leaning against the start gate twinges.

Klunk, crack, slam, the gate hits the ground the release of the clutch and bam your on your way to third. Fourth, shut it down. Turn left or right, you see either air or side panels. You slide off the plastic and feel the rubber knobbies dig for traction.  That is the climax of the race, from there it’s a panic to the finish line. Ironically you ride off the track and feel “Is that all there was?” You seek more, like a itch on your back that someone just scratched and now you feel both good and relived.

Dam I need my back scratched!

Great ride today after the rainstorms. JMI looked like a huge success and loads of fun.

The old playbike is getting a makeover. I am not one for creating Frankenstein bikes but this kind of fell into my lap. I came across a CR 80 at a price I couldn’t refuse and I am migrating the suspension onto the 150 playbike. Last weekend I had mated up the rear shock. The shock is 8 out of 10, it needs a new spring, I have been searching. A trip through the garage has located two. A 5.2kg and a 6.5kg.

So I take the bike out to the local riding area and put in an hour of track riding and to my amazement the rear end held up. Not only that, my lap times were significantly faster. The bike is back in the garage getting dissembled for the front end.

Damint! I tried to get photos today I just never got off the bike. Spent the first 30 minuets trying to ride laps. The dirt hasn’t seen any moisture for soooo long it was as slippery as a grease on a goose. Scared myself stupid a few times. Once a Road Runner jumps out in front of me and starts trottin' along. Well I was shifting up into 4th and the dam thing looked at me like oh no you don’t! He dodges out of the way, this is just into a chicane where you come out and shift into 5^th. Full on hero turn. Knee into the radiator, full weight on the outer peg and wheeling all the way to the step up. I really need a steering dampener.

We have a couple of rutted turns, I decided to play with those for the rest of the afternoon. Only fell once on that. You can’t stop. You just keep going and going. Even to the point where your all sloppy and falling. All in all a great day. I need to extend my endurance. Pitiful to be honest with you.

The day started at 7:45 heading toward Bishop to meet with my buddies to go for a trail ride. For fun, we add a little something to the mix we ride our play bikes. CRF 150's 11 HP and low (I mean low) clearance. Way fun to ride.

We met up and got on the trail at about 9. Out from the yard to the dirt trail adjacent to the road and on toward the mountains. Each of us with a full tank and with a backpack with a antifreeze bottle filled with extra gas. We anticipated a long ride. From Round Valley up to Swell Meadows via two track in sand, to Wheeler Crest, up sand canyon and one of the original sites fo the Kamikaze downhill, down to Rock Creek to Toms Place for lunch. Then back down to swell and back to round valley. Total we estimated 115 miles.

If you know anything about off-road racing, and the Class 11 car, that is what it is like riding the 150's For those that don’t know, Class 11 is stock VW Bugs. Low suspension low on power just a lot of fun. Same reason we ride 150’s Just because its fun.

Back to the trail, good spirits and full of go, the first three miles were on dirt road, dirt track style we all try to race one another. Then to sandy two track. Berms and quad groomed ruts make it extra fun to set the front wheel and carve the turns. Lot of rocks! We are cut short by a flat five miles into the ride. Turn around and back to the house to get a tube. At the house we found a CR 80, we pilfered the tube from the tire and off again. This time we are ready. The two track is really sandy and we are all over the place. Each section is unique and fun. For about 10 miles of criss cross sandy two track we finally come to highway. On to the pavement. This is a road any road racer can appreciate. Clean, curvy and sans people. Well almost. We started right into the turns. Before we knew it we were pinned and hanging off the sides trying to Supermoto the 150s the best we could. There from Round Valley up to Sky Meadow ranch. A secluded home area mostly second home owners. This is where the road narrows and the terrain goes from desert to forest. Under the pine trees and not much dust we start back up the hill at full speed. Across creeks over the rain run outs, and up to Sand Canyon. Pumice, beach sand and rock all rolled up into one slightly larger lane then singletrak. A preferred trial for mountain bikers for its degree of difficulty, steep grade and deep sand. There to the plateau and up sand canyon and to wheeler ridge. The road is laden with granite river rock. The poor 150’s have a hard time getting over them. Along with the threat of a flat you go as easy as you can but still with speed. Basically your using body English to align the bike to the line you want.

The sign points up to wheeler crest.
Up Wheeler crest, the trail up is an old mule trail. The local riders keep the trails burned in because as the roads grow over the local agencies threaten and sometimes close them. This particular trail done on a 450 is usually a blast. Short straights with stair rocks and berm to berm turns. This trail was created back in the early 1900’s with mules and wagons soon to be replaced by loaders. There was a mine up there, I guess when money is to be made anything is possible. Back on the 150 it makes it a little more trying. Almost more effort to thread the front wheel between the rocks and up and over the sharp edges. Approximately 30 minutes later and using all the 12 hp which is now down to 7 hp We come to a stop for a rest. Just below 12,000 feet only five more miles to the summit. We added the gas from our back pack about a half gallon each A piece of jerky, some water and up the single track to the summit.

The trail to this point is so narrow even the 4x4 quads don’t try it. I am told there are loaders mine equipment and even a jeep from the 80’s over the side. The punishment for failure is thousands of feet over the edge. So from here out the trail is hardly used. Standing there we were thinking.  How many people have stood there? We took in the sights and took some photos then headed back.

We headed down and wanted to get some lunch. On the way down the plateau, Somehow someone had driven their Ford Explorer to 'Explore' but they had high sided it on some rocks. OWWW. Bad place to be stuck. Not far from people but not real accessible. We got caught up in the ride down and forgot about the turnoff for Rock Creek. In doing so we explored new trails and ways over the mountain but only found the USFS thinning the forest and they all looked at us sideways. We headed home. We got back to the house around 3. Overall the ride was a success. Only about 75 miles but we were ready for a beer.

Ever just slide out the side door and go moto? I did today. Man it was raining. Cats, dogs and even rats. Loaded the bike and headed over to the track. Wouldnt you know it. Not a drop. Dry as a bone. Well anyway I unloaded and proceeded to put in some laps. Dove season is underway so every idiot is on my track in their truck looking for dove. Nothing like five large laps to clear out the hunters.

NOTE: Give the motocross people some meat, we will let you hunt on our track. No meat, get lost.

Found a rut and a turn, started working that to death. Came in all front brake, then front and rear. Then rear, float the front and ride the clutch. Soon I was hopping out of the rut, then seat boucing the jump after. Even as it was getting dark, I was trying to figure out if the moon light would help. Its nearly full.

It didnt.

I freaking love motocross.

Summer, when I think of summer I think of swimming, long days, lazy afternoons and I think of Motocross. Well actually I think of Motocross year-round. This summer seems to have slid by way too fast. Thinking back to the shotgun start of summer I think of Memorial day and Over The Hill Gang. Fernley National to be more precise. How I got 9^th overall for the weekend out of 21 riders. All riders except myself were under 20. I guess the old man taught the young bucks a thing or two. What I cant out ride I can out smart. Then I think of Mammoth Motocross, how I was another great weekend of racing and my first for qualifying for the main event. And that leads me to Arenacross.

Arena-cross, Motocross held in an arena. Not a stadium but an arena, an acre a area reserved for muttin’ bustin, ropin’ and hawg-tyin’! This year the Golden State Cycle Areancross was better then ever, I started it off in the over 40 novice class, good competition I had come out in 2^nd. Then the second race of the series. Feeling without competition I decided to enter the Amateur class. A step up from Novice, also where most of my peers race. Also the deciding factor to me advancing. 12 angry men, but this was no jury, all experienced and hungry for the single line into the first turn. Race one would be a good race. Nearly everyone was equal. The 45 second track would be a sprint to the finish in 7 laps. That’s the good and the bad. Short race, the bad is I had been training for endurance. I wasn’t even warmed up until lap 4. I placed fourth in the first heat and second in the second heat. For the night, I would come out with the 2^nd place trophy.

Without a little conflict what good would the racing be? So due to an on track spat in the second heat, a wager, and a rivalry was developed. Between myself and a fellow racer. The bet was going into the next round the loser would kiss the boot of the winner. I was excited about this. While my rival felt surely he would be handing over his boot, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it at least without a fight. And actually it was I that called him to the carpet so to speak, when he questioned my skills. Immature yes but so much more was added.

In between the weeks racing practice was allowed on Wednesday evenings. So Wednesday before the final round I was eager to take the track and find the quickest line I could. While I had lost focus for just a moment, it was all that was needed. I flipped and tumbled into a turn, too much front brake and I was left with too much soreness. Out of breath and unable to stand, the first thing I think of is “I can’t forfeit the race this way!” Makes sense. I cant breath, I’m potentially looking at x-rays and I’m thinking about racing. You can see where my head is at. After a brief rest, I take to the track, wiring the ruts and gaining seconds. My competition following me closely and watching on. I would get on the track lay some times down then relax let him gain on me and lead him around. I wanted into his head, which at the time I didn’t know how much I was going to be a success.

Race day.

Standing in line to sign up, he is here. I smile and ask how he is feeling? Cocky he still claims he is going to leave me in the dust. Aren’t you gonna’ feel bad when you loose I tell him. On to the track; over watered, sun in the eyes and of course every rider on the track at once, really all your doing is just a sighting lap. I pull off the track, and see him, I call him over to my pits, “Pretty wet and slippery out there huh?” with his cocky response “no I felt great.” Good to hear, because I can’t wait thinking to myself. Still looking for a way into his head. You see, he is faster then me. At practice I have always acknowledged that if he got in front of me, he will run, behind me and he locks on.

Heat one

The gate drops, I make for the first turn and I have a horrible start. 5^th. Maybe I can gain a position or two? Basically this is a dash for cash race. Its over before it starts. In the turns I don’t see him, that has me puzzled? I storm on beating my own lap times and come in ahead of him. Later I asked my friends, what happened. Seems he was really flustered and got stuck in the gate. Compounded with wild riding he did everything he could, he just couldn’t make it to me by the end of the race.

Heat two

Another poor start, 6^th, except he is in fifth, the race is furious, with me locked onto him, he is taking all my lines, he is thinking smart, I ponder in my head. He goes inside I go out. Watching him from behind, he is over his head. He looks like he just robbed the bank and is trying to get away. I am locked onto him. I show him my metallic ‘Tiki Studios’ flower atop the front fender at nearly every turn, In fact I get ahead of him at one point. He goes for last ditch, slides into the rider in fourth; he has now resorted to forcing his passes. I pick it up, he gets passed, he dives to the inside I go to the outside, a slower rider falls over, and the race is over. 7^th for the night. For all what it was a rivalry it made us both ride above our own limits and make us better. For reasons I don’t know, he packed up and disappeared before I could even talk to him. It was a push. 1-1. Ironically he and I raced at Mammoth. Saturday he was just ahead of me, Sunday I was just ahead of him.

The Arenacross season is over, two second place races and a seventh. Soon the fall series will start. LACR, Race town and more races in Nevada. Another amateur national at Fernley over Labor day, I am looking forward to straight up battle in the sand and 30 minute motos. I’m just not built for sprints.

 Love for http://www.photocross.net who is shooting the event and all the other events they cover. 

 
Last night at practice I wanted to get the jump on the competition for the upcoming weekend race. First out in the class, storm onto the track over the big jumps and then to a elevated right-hander. I have made this turn seriously almost 100 times, last night would be different.

The jump is elevated about 4 feet, its up turn and then down into a small double. No biggie, no issues. I came into the turn, full speed top of second; normally I exit in second and make the double. As I approached I grabbed the front brake as usual, then the rear. I wasn’t slowing. Before I realized it I was over the braking bumps and up on the turn and heading through the banners. Last ditch I grabbed all the front brake I had.

I don’t know what happened but yours truly is getting flicked off his bike like a fresh booger caught on your finger. I met with the ground in a thud, then the bike on top of me. I knew I was in trouble but I didn’t have the breath to even move. I rolled to the edge of the berm and got up trying to breath. My bike was covering the line, 40 angry riders behind me trying to get around me and bike. My friend who was flagging was laughing at the same time, "You ok? Man that looked hard."  Top that off, last night I decided to try an "Under Jersey" chest protector. The thing didn’t do crap. Well it did protect my arm, but due to my elbow was pressed into my ribs with the elbow protector my ribs are bruised, arm bruised, and wrist bruised. Under protector 1 – Drew -0

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could breath, sneeze or laugh. Sleeping last night was limited. All in all it was funny after, but dang I hate bruised ribs.

I prefer mine bar-bee-qued.

 Love for http://www.photocross.net who is shooting the event and all the other events they cover.