Racing ...again!

 A John Prine lyric: "She reminds me of a chess game with someone I admire or a picnic in the rain after a prairie fire."  

Last weekend saw no fires neither rain but it was sure one hell of a welcome breath of fresh air to go racing for the first time in 259 days. Since my last race I have found out that I have a little baby girl on the way. Talk about an impactful statement. Love. It has been over a month now and a few CT scans, lung tests, and medical evaluations since I foolishly allowed myself to get shit-whipped of my dirtbike and my carcass is still sore but healing up well. I was not sure how I would perform this past weekend at the vintage trials and motocross back in my beautiful home town of Steamboat Springs. I started to prepare a couple of weeks ago by digging up the bones of an abandoned 1974 Yamaha TY250 trials bike from my bone yard. A previous owner had frankenstiened a YZ tank, mystery seat/ exhaust combo, and some deadly ATV or ATC foot pegs. I did what I do and deemed it competition worthy. Though surely not going to win any beauty contest it did get some grumbles and giggles from the vintage purist. 

Friday morning I loaded up and met up with the Kustom Coach Works (KCW) crew and convoyed out to my old home town on the best back roads I could think of to show off to them and their super cool vintage VWs. They usually spend about 100 nights a year sleeping in their rigs exploring the world near and far. Needles to say they are special people and I think they are top shelf cool. Big Ben had a fresh built old Honda trials in tow behind his 1950's bus equipped with a subaru engine. Saturday was the trials day and Ben did his first competition trials in 12 years. Talk about a dry spell. He impressed me immensely with his solid riding doing way better than people one third his age (and height)!  I flailed something awful on my first loop dabbing like a dog on a skateboard and dropping fives like a frat boy in the champagne room. I managed to get my act together by the final loop and zero every test but one but the overall winner only dropped one on all three loops so a repeat victory from my last time was not to be had. I actually got beat by many but I was having a blast. Post trials beers were drank.

The Dick Man Premier Classic BSA 500 I rode in the motocross two years ago was not able to make it out to the race due to a last minute transport breakdown so the owner of the ranch that hosts the whole weekend offered me up his 1960 BSA Catalina with a Dick Man worked over chassis. Talk about catching a break. All that I can say is that I am a lucky dog. I said that I would do my best to bring it back in the same condition. I tried not to listen when I heard what these old dirtbikes sell for. And then there I was Sunday morning, lined up with my clutch finger twitching as my eyes registered a dropping green flag. Seconds later I was flying into a corner behind somebody in sacrilegious neon green modern mx gear and a full face helmet. His rear tire blasted me for the next four laps while I learned my bikes character and mostly concentrated on breaking with my left foot and up-shifted by going down with my right foot. I nearly cooked a few corners and knew if i were to pass the faster rider I would need to make a pass on the inside line without somehow turning us both into a dusty bloody ball of expensive and very heavy vintage iron. 2nd place was fine. The 2nd moto would be my time to make a move. And it was. The last corner of the last lap... I saw an open door and I took it. There was slight contact, Whoooping and hollering as we drag raced across the finish line. I won by a wheel length. A pass of a life time. I was so winded I got my helmet off and felt like my lung was collapsing again. I ingested much dirt and more epic glory than any ol dog could ever dream of. What a blast!!!

I am so fortunate to be around the quality people I am surrounded with and can not even begin to thank them enough for their generosity, allowing me to pilot amazing bikes and just spend time together picking up dust. Much!