Prognosis Fuck You

Sorry for the lack of keeping the blog regular. More metemucil should do. Like a good dookie Once a day if it was up to me. I have just been keeping away from screens as much as possible. The secondary life (on-line life) can always wait. Or can it? Has it already consumed not only the younger generation but also mine? How can that be- I remember when my phone had buttons, knobs, or rotary dials and a party line shared with all the neighbors who lived on my road. Now I can do eight things before I even get to my precious fat bowl of Emig O's! Where have we gone now? Oh yes, I blog about mostly my life's dream of being a motorcycle racing, van dwelling, 6mm socket dropping under the tool box maniac. Ah yes, well last weekend I loaded up the new (now on 1/2 year!) van; Big Vanna White. Lets call her for now or, The Long White Bonner if you must. Drove a good 12 hours down to the lush green and freshly moistuerated soils of Arizona. It has been since Molly, my 2009 Crf450X was given her virgin flogging, her first race was here in the cactus covered desert. I have not attended many Enduros since coming runner up to series champ in 2011. Adding to the distaste was also when I lost all my points the season following over a 30$ annuale membership and old Enduro geezers who are always going off about reading the rule book and if not thou shall be punished. Fuck authority anyhow! I was anxious to race a proper off road race. I have been building strength on the Moto-X tracks around Denver. The first test was going great. Dark wet roosted tire tracks in the velcro like sand that enduced my knobbies to devoure it like Roassane Arnold, a steam shovel, and a shit ton of Little Debbie double chocolate cream chunks cake. And then, a few corners in and I realized I had over tourqed my over used clutch lever pivot bolt. I had to manually return my clutch lever (handy dandy backwards break-away lever). Every loamy sandy berm I had to refrain from fully punishing as I would desire and keep my clutch plates from shitting the bed so early in a race I drove 12+ hours to get to. After the first test I used mr. Leatherman to fix my money maker of a clutch lever and got back into the rythem of the tight and technical rocky slopes and the fast flowing sand washes. By the middle stage I was feeling it. Probably because I ate one of those mini snickers bars. I jumped in at the re-start format special test start in line behind one of the fast kids. The dude was ripping so hard and his Point Break haircut so good that he did not even need a hydration system, granted the tests were never longer than 8 miles and I would chug a beer at every re-start if I had my way to. Any-ooo I reeled him into sight by the finish of that test, beating him on time. And then, me feeling my oats in the next test, decided to show A nice looking banked berm who Molly works for! I gambled with a big embeded rock on the inside that attacked my rear break lever like Jaws eating a cigar boat. Damn near high-sided me out the saddle. The next back breaking G'd out grand caynon of a gully I came up on is the exact moment that I realized that pushing my brake pedal did absolutley nothing. My escape rout or Plan-B dare I say (No thanks to you president trump or should I say Dump) was a front brake traction threshold all the way down a ravine coming to a rest against the opposite side of a cactus covered embankment. It could have been a whopping bit worse, I clicked the shifter three gears down back to first and resumed the test with only front break and my best Fred Flintstone down some rather gnarly trail. More than once going down hands first into cactus. I must have lost a solid 3-4 minutes if not more. But with some tools loaned from fellow FTW rider Mr Jeremy Shoning I was able to re-seat the brake's master cylinder clip. I hammered down on the last test even though my peddle was now 1" higher than normal. with only a few turns to go I snowplowed into a large fellow as I attempted to overtake him on the same side he decided to pull over to. We both went head first into a large bushy tree full of shattering, splintery, dead, and awfully prictly wood. This incedent along with my 11th place finish re-cap the whole race. The race was so much fun. The race hurt, my inner thy cramped, and I will be picking many cactus out of my for arms that now look like something that got sucked into hay making eqiupment. I again savored the glory known only to a racer, knowing the inner life of both gnar shredding and defeat. I'll take it! Dont forget to keep your eyes off the screens now and then, keep handlebars in hand as often as possibls, and I will try to keep the blog healthy.