Wednesday, August 3, 2016
RSD X Indian Motorcycles Super Hooligan at Lost Highway
Last week I hopped on an airplane to LAX with my leathers and helmet to ride the #47 Indian for Roland Sands again. I rented a minivan (it was actually pretty cool but mini vans are still really not cool!). I hit up In 'N Out for a burger, Family dollar for a blanket and after making it to the track I slept in the back with a fast food bag for a pillow. I awoke with the sun to an empty music arena. I walked the track and noted how slick and off camber it was and then did reverse donuts in the mini van. As people started to show up the temperature rose up into the hundreds. I knew the hill side grass track was going to give the Hooligan nutters some hell. The first practice session was like watching an Arnold Schwartzenager scene involving a rocket launcher. One suicide machine dude had crushed his helmet. He said if he could find another lid he thought he was good to race still. No. I rode smooth but knew I would have to push to qualify for the main as only 1st place transfered to the main. In my heat I had a shit start and worked my way into 1st and then lost the front coming in. I used every bit of muscle I had to lift the giant scout back up and kept going. It paid as another crashed out and I ended up 3rd. giving me a a transfer to the B main where 1st place would make the main. I won it but i was pushing so hard across the finish line that I wiped out. The big girl had my hot shoe pinned under neath of her. It was like being sat upon by a huge fat chick inside a sauna. I got out from under her and heaved her back up. I franticly re attached my hot shoe and with sweat dumping out my face I lined up for the main. I wiped out once more causing a first corner red flag restart. I was totally exhausted. I mad it to the last corner of the last lap and right before the finish line I just had to butt surf the grass once more. I think I ended up 5th and I will tell you cold beer never tasted so good. What a great crowd of racers Roland draws. The track was surprisingly great for racing and taught a lot of respect for soft rider inputs. As the darkness came and temps dropped below 100 I hoofed it up the hill to a secret weird balcony like spot and watched good ol Mike Ness and the rest of Social Distortion kick out some good old stuff from the early days. Living the good life. Until a security guard awoke me at 4:30 from my sweaty slumber. "Can't sleep here hon, venue is closed." Well back to the airport and on with the real world.