Monarch Racer

CHCA round 2 on Monarch pass. A two mile section of mine road climbing thousands of feet just off of US Highway 50 and ending near timber line. Yes there are Monarch butterflies and yes I am lucky to race. I just received word that round 3, the Lands End hill climb has been cancelled. I am trying to find perspective but devastation is the only relative word I can find. I do live to race and though it is something I feel so strongly about I still can not explain why. Racing is just what has felt so sublime for me ever since I was a ten year old booger eater still shitting my pants on occasion. Racing is my savoir. Sphincter control and all. Amen. Anyhoo, the week before Monarch I received a call form the CHCA tech inspector who informed me the rally guys wanted me out of their class. Apparently they didn't like getting their asses kicked by a 1964 rusty slime green Herbie driven by a total rookie. After several failed protests on the rally rules I was supposed to be (and was) following I was allowed to stay entered in the Rally 2WD class and the bitching cry babies who have nice new proper modern race cars were told politely to shut the fuck up.  25 plus years of racing bikes of all sorts and never a protest or anything of the sorts and my first car race I was shown how very little some people hold the prestige of their racing morals. But meanwhile back to real racing; The motorcycle class at Monarch was the biggest class having 13 entries. That is double the most ever. And of course my epic, worthy, and welcome rival (who I cant help but mention races a 701cc and 650cc is the limit but I dont give a flying fuck!) who beat me at round 1 was ready to repeat along with two other riders who were nipping at my times every practice run. After Saturday I ended up in pole position in both motorcycle and Rally 2WD. On race day I ended up losing in my cager by less than a second to the offending protestor. Fair is fair, I'll beat him as I learn how to drive. The real racing action was on two wheels for me as I did not want to loose two of the dwindled four rounds (now 3 if we are lucky). I rode my 450 hill climb special with a fierce precision and won the class, setting a new record and finished 4th fastest vehicle of the day. And I drank a beer. And it was good!

The pit space up top at the mine site was primo, Especially with Marc and Andrew from the front rage there to help support me and my bulging hairy pepperoni titties ego.

I sure do appreciate being able to do this shit. I hope we as humans can somehow get more bonded together and stop bickering like a bunch of middle school cheerleaders all whacked out on laced pixie sticks and school spirit. PEACE!