I was on my way home from the MTA Vet Worlds at Glen Helen Saturday afternoon thinking to myself, “I suck so bad that I should just sell my new Yamaha and buy a street bike”. I went to the race not expecting to do well, really to not even race. I just wanted to do a couple of laps on a race track before going under the knife next week. I haven’t been able to race in a long time due to various problems that I’ve been trying to get repaired. I know that my physical conditioning sucks. I know that I haven’t spent any time on a race bike in a long time. I know that the aforementioned various problems limit me in what I can and can’t do physically. But, I still know how to ride. How could I ride like a hairy dog turd? Yes, the track was extremely difficult, but I just flat sucked.
Most people do not, or will not ever understand the way that a motocross racer thinks. I really don’t care if I win anymore. I don’t care if I ever win a trophy or a prize at a race ever. I have gotten to do that over the years. I once won 26 straight motos, and was leading the 27th when the A arm on my 85 KX 250 gave up the ghost. I won a race in front of my mother by a half a lap, when I was in my forties. I won a CMC championship. At my age which is the age of a lot of motocross racers these days, other than getting out of bed without crying like a baby, taking a really good pee, and being able to find the remote, the only other thing that matters is that we can still ride well. Not flounder around, looking like someone who really shouldn’t be on the track. Even if we aren’t fast, don’t hit the big jumps, or don’t scrub like the kids we want to look like maybe we once had a clue. Racers aren’t posers. Racer don’t show up to putt around the track, do all the jumps, ride 3 laps and go back to the truck to hang with their homies. Racers want to race even for next to last place.
After I got home I couldn’t stomach that what could possibly be my last ever race (depending on my scalpel wielder) left me feeling like a toilet plunger at a fraternity house. So I went back and tried again Sunday, what would any true racer do? What I did could not really be described as racing, but at least for 2 laps I didn’t feel like I had crapped my pants wearing a white leotard. It wasn’t how I did, but the fact that I rode like a racer. Does it matter, absolutely not? In the big scheme of things it matters to only one person, me. Because no matter how old I live to, how much longer I get the privilege of being a racer, I will always be a motocross racer. If you are too young for any of this to make sense to you, take note young racers, you will soon wake up, look in the mirror and say to yourself,” who the f@#k is the old guy”, and why can’t I pee anymore”.