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125C class
got 2nd to last and only beat a chick
Had 1 helluva lot of fun and memories in the last 19 years!
1967
2nd place out of 3
bonanza minibike briggs
1st race on a "real" scooter was at the pleasonton fair grounds on a mini trail 50. 1968/69
2nd place out of 10
1st big bikes race...a 2hr marathon race a week before the race mentioned below.
1st real motocross
29th out of 40.
sandhill ranch 1973
yamaha mx 125
12 years old i believe
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My first race was in 1989 at 14 yrs old in Springville, UT on a 1988 CR80. My brother decided a year before that he was going to go racing. And at that track a year before I flagged all day on Saturday for 15 bucks and a hamburger. Dreaming the whole time I could be out there.
The early 80's economy coupled with the fact that we had six kids in our family really killed any chances for our father to pass on his true love from the 60's and 70's, but my brother and I witnessed the world of motocross from basically birth. I loved going out with my father when I was really small, watching him ride and dreaming of getting out and experiencing the freedom that I knew you would feel from just being on one of the damn things and checking shit out. But, I knew that wasn't going to be a reality any time soon when I walked home from kindergarten one day and saw my fathers 1979 Maico on it's stand, a heavy duty wire milk crate, in our front yard, with a for sale sign affixed to the front number plate. I guess work was scarce and there were mouths to feed and a mortgage to pay.
Back to 1989, my brother was getting ready to start his second year racing and decided to buy a 1988 CR250 to replace his 1986 CR 250. I would go out with him every day after school in the spring that year and help him mix gas and whatever else as he burned practice laps. He would bring his 1986 CR250 along and he would let me put around on it and I just wished so much I was big enough to really ride it, but I wasn't.
At this point in time, my parents were still having a hard time scraping by but things were getting slightly better, economically, but my father wasn't ready to buy me a bike and really didn't want to support my brother that much because he knew what could become (chasing races, chasing points, spending all your time and money being in the sport). Of course, he wouldn't say too much about it but would come out every once in a while and give pointers to my brother.
One day that Spring I got home from school and my brother wasn't around, I figured he was at his girlfriends house or whatever. When I hear his old 71 2WD ford F250 pull up outside I looked out and saw his new CR in his truck and another smaller bike on the other side that I couldn't really see that well. Of course, he was bounding through the door at this point telling me to get outside and of course I was pretty excited at what might be in his truck, so I ran out and by god he had traded his 86 CR250 for a 1988 CR80 for me.
Now we were in business. My father didn't really know what the hell to think about this but you could see the glimmer in his eyes. After a couple weeks on that thing I was on the line for my first race. I looped out on the start then wouldn't let off trying to get around a guy heading toward the finish line tabletop. I blasted the jump and ejected hitting the ground real hard. The adrenaline was flowing so hard I jumped right up and grabbed my bike immediately but the Answer alumalites were broke and I had to take it back to the pits. We cobbled that thing back together with some borrowed bars and I went out and finished somewhere mid pack in the second moto.
That started a straight 6 year whirlwind run that saw my father, us brothers and our whole family doing everything we could to get to all the local and regional races. Absolutely the best time of my childhood. After that 6 yr run my brother was married with a kid, I decided I better go to school and my old man bought a boat and said I am done!
We both still raced after that but it wasn't the same family effort and lost some of it's magic. I still race desert races from time to time and take my boy out to the pee wee track. I try to keep everything low key because I don't think I will ever have the energy and drive to go that hard again.
I guess part of the reason it is so memorable is because it took so much effort. We scrapped aluminum, scrapped junk cars and my old man put his ass in high gear working, my brother and I were out helping him pouring concrete in the summer, packing forms, digging footings, etc.
I was on a riding holiday with a few really fast amatuers (think top 5 British masters speed, all been riding since they were 4) we turned up up to the track, and they put me in 250 "hobby" it was full of really fast experts that were sandbagging.
It was also my first time on a real sand track, they didnt tell me it was a race until I was pushing my bike to the holding pen (their idea of a joke) then I was hurried onto the start gate, I got destroyed by the entire field, and was so nervous on the gate, I came dead last but loved it in a weird sort of way.
Some of you Texas folks may remember the NIGHT track at Lake Houston Raceway formerly RIO BRAVO, 1st moto I lined up for 125 beginner, my cousin next to me talkin smack the whole time. The gate drops and we are off you went thru the first turn down a short straight into a 180* turn then roll or jump a set of doubles that could not have been no bigger than thigh high. Easy to jump you say? Not for my goon riding ass. I did the most ridiculous seat bounce in the history of Mx only to land on the second jump with my rear tire...... you know were this is going right?
I did the most perfect flying W you have ever seen, my body was extended vertical to the handle bars, I'm talkin full on gymnast extension here into a full summer sault tuck to back splat. This was after riding this out for 20 or so yrds till gravity took over and pulled my feet over the point of know return. I learned a valuable lesson that day that physics will bite you in the ass when you least expect it.
Anyways I shook it off and ended the night 4th over all and that folks was my introduction to the wonderful world of Mx........I been hooked ever since.
Over the step up I go.. this jump is three times as big today. I didn't have the courage to try it last time I was there in 2007.
my first race, hill billy hills in Macon, GA
I crashed in practice after only two laps, couldn't start my bike, got roosted by guys like Mike Craig, Jeremy Hughes and Paul Cortez while they whizzed past and I got pretty discouraged. My bike looked like it was made out of mud. I wanted to pack up and leave, but my dad convinced me to stay and race both motos. He told me I would never have to come back if I didn't like it after that.
Of course, the track dried out, I had a great time, and I think I landed in about 11th O/A in 80cc Beginner. I've been racing ever since, and I can't wait to go back to Barona again soon!
18 years old
Cow Palace (arena), San Francisco
125 beginner
Riding a 1988 RM125 (5 year old bike at the time)
Result: second to last in both qualifiers
My friend and I squeezed two bikes into a first generation Dodge Caravan. I raced against my parents will but I was 18 so I could no longer be stopped....ha ha!
1977 in Chambersburg, PA. I had a '77 RM80 and was sporting a big "T" on the number plate..."X" had been already taken. Moto 1, I battled with "X" the whole moto for last place. Finished with an inside move on "X" at the flag for next to last. Moto 2 saw the track get watered right before my 80 amateur moto, so the promoter let us take a sight lap after many parents complained. I crashed 3 or 4 times in the slime and was stuck in the back of the track unable to get my bike started. So I missed the moto while pushing my RM back to the van. My dad met me while in route and offered to take the bike. While crying I said no, he tought me how to put my bike on the crate myself...saying all good rides end when you can put your own bike away. I wanted to show him that I still had a good ride!
We had 33 years of great rides...thanks Dad, I miss you.
My throttle stuck going in to the whoops and I did the ol' one two swaperoo and yard saled myself. The army green medical jeep came and got me and took me back to my pits. My dad had to go ride my bike off the track. The crowd went nuts....for him ripping a pw50. HAHA
My dad still has it on VHS somewhere.
Pit Row
Edit>> good stuff BTW Thxs for sharing
1st moto with a rubber band start and 30+guys. I don't think I breathed the last two minutes before the start, and my heart rate was about 200BPM! I holeshoted the moto start and was as wild as anyone could be, but maybe Magoo Chadler!. I NEVER hit a whoop section and since I didn't do practice, I didn't know how fast to hit them. Now remember this was '77. Most guys went single, single single, single all the way through. If you were John Savitskii or Kenny Adams, you could double them. Well, I didn't want to get passed. This all transpired on the first lap. I never shut off coming into them and landed on the forth one, endowed and broke my arm really, really bad.
12 weeks in a cast, so my summer was shot. Course, this happened like 3 days after school was done for '77. Oh well, I still race to this day and had many crashes after that.
Now my boy, he has a much different story,for his first race. It is totally opposite to mine. But I'll leave that for another story!!
During practice I land on a guy over the first big jump, but still felt confident, because I passed a few guys before I crashed out. As it was my first race, I didn't know they had two 125 beginner classes because of the high turnout and proceeded to line up in the wrong Moto! The gate drops and I pull the holeshot and as I come to the first turn I hit my brakes which broke and locked up, spitting me over the bars. I roll over in just enough time to see the guy behind me pop a wheelie as he rode over me which stopped his momentum just enough to begin a fifteen bike pile up. (Turns out that when I landed on the dude during practice I bent my brake caliper)....
After getting chewed out from some Moto Dad's for lining up in the wrong Moto, getting used for traction by 30+ dudes in the first turn, and realizing I would need a couple hundred bucks to fix my broken stead, I swore i would never race again..... That is until I got my bike fixed and peer pressured me into giving it one more shot. I'm glad they did, because the second race I finished 7th outta like 32 dudes and was hooked!
Being from the inner city I didn't get into mx until my early 30s (when i could buy my own bike). As a kid I had ridden a friend's dirt bike around the local football field a few times and was neighborhood champ. So hear I am 25 years later buying a 93 cr 250 and heading down to Budds Creek to try my first race. I had seen 1 pro race (Doug Henry Race@ Budds) in my life so i figured this will be a piece of cake (remember I was 'hood champ). I tell all my buddies to meet me @ the track and I'll be there collecting trophies. This is when the trouble starts.
Got an early start in the morning and packed up my car to head to Budds. Problem #1 did not get accurate directions to Budds. This is B4 mapquest, gps and cell phones. The only directions were from the answering machine @ the track which was pretty ancient. Anyway arrived in time for practice.
Signed up for D class, got dressed and went out to first practice( prob A class). The track was the reverse of what you see on tv now. I went out in practice and I felt like I was a traffic cone on the highway, I circulated maybe a half lap and was maybe in 1st gear bogged when I got to the hills and damn near came to a complete stop. My eyes were as big as dinner plates wondering how anyone was going to ride/race down these steep mothe...... someone jumped over my head, wide open, down Big Gulp! I pulled off the track immediately, rode back to the car while pulling off my gear, shaking. I am getting the h** outta her right now! I had every intention of packing my crap up and going home. Problem #2 my whole neighborhood is there by now. S***!
Now I can't wimp out! After being pumped up by my buddies I ate a snickers (didnt eat breakfast), drank a coke, put a new lense in my goggles and headed for my 1st moto. Sitting @ the line I counted 12 guys in my class. I calculated I would only have to get 3rd for a trophy. Cake! Started bike, put goggles on @ 30 sec board and wondered why everyone was revving bike.
The gate dropped on my front wheel. What to do now? I backed my bike up, let the gate fall and went off chasing the pack. Problem #3 i had more heart than skill.
I went beserk trying to get my 3rd. I was all out passing guys left and right, I was on my way..... then came lap 2. I was spent, I had a serious cramp in my side from my healthy breakfast, my vision was blurry (no one said there was a plastic film you had to peel off the lense) and I had 2 more laps to go. My bike was bottoming on everything, seeing as i had turned all the clickers to soft, because i wanted the bike to be soft over all the bumps, made sense at the time and i had whiskey throttle. I came down the fastest straight on the track wide open and never let off. Problem #4 there is a small double in the straight. I landed butt first. While writhing on the ground I realized I was in 10th.
No 2nd moto. I left with a bleeding a** and respect for a sport that I had to learn. I could not sit down without blood in my underwear for a week. I didn't race again for a year. I got my trophy a year and a half later @ happy ramblers.
Seems like a nice old codger other that that.
skip to 31 years later I go buy a new CRF450 and decide to race after owning the bike for two day's. I entered the 35 plus class (Im 47). The gate drops and I get the holeshot and by lap two i'm way out front thinking I still got it and this old man is still a bad ass. That's when reality hit and I realized that I hadn't taken a breath in the last 5 minutes and I started to realize that MR bad ass was about to pass out. Then I went into the next corner and the brain forgot to tell the hand to pull the clutch in and I stalled it and then my leg was no longer working so it didn't hold me up.,,,,,, After dragging my self off the ground I realized that kicking a 450 after you have just been abused by that same rabid CRF450 for the last ten minute's was about like trying to kick start a mack truck. I ended up making it back up to third. When I got back to the pits my wife and sons were so proud of me and it was awesome. Then they helped me remove my hands from the bars and then helped me off the bike. Then I went out in the second moto and won it and got the over all.
I was so proud of my self that I spent the next laying on the couch all day and didn't move a muscle all day and it had nothing to do with the fact that every muscle in my body was locked up tighter then a bulls ass.
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