Two weeks ago I wrote about the stubbornness of motocrossers and how no matter how often they get hurt they can’t stay off a bike. Well, to my shame, I have been off one since October 2008. When I left the RX office in West Virginia, I had to leave behind the motorcycle that went along with the full-time gig there. There is something about having a bike in the back of your pickup once a week that makes everything right in the universe. For the past 7 months the only thing in the back of my truck has been a few smashed beer cans rattling around.
Do any of you guys ever get a little depressed for seemingly no reason at all? Do you find yourself sleeping in later than you should and not getting the most out of your day? I battle it sometimes. Even when things are “good.”
I’ve been going through a bit of a downer recently and couldn’t figure out why. I am extremely lucky for my life right now.
Things are great for my family right now and while cliché, we are living the dream. Clint won at Daytona last weekend and as I drove to work Monday morning there was a “Congratulations Clint Bowyer” message on the sign out front. There isn’t anyone more proud than I am, but the message somehow stuck a nerve.
“What’s missing, dude?” I asked myself.
After the workday I was getting ready to head out on the Harley and belly up at the local watering hole. Just when I was ready to hit it, I got a call on my cell. Who it was, how it happened, matters not. (E-mail me at email@example.com and I’ll explain) It was an invitation to go to open practice at the local motocross track.
An hour later I was pulling on crusty gear that had October sweat and dirt ground into it. Seconds later I was out on the track riding as fast as I could. It took me about 3 laps to get all of the jumps down and another 3 laps for the cinder blocks to grow on the forearms. I rode back to my truck and sat on the tailgate, popped an aspirin and started pounding Gatorade. I was pouring sweat and had dirt all over my chest and face. My hands already stung and my knees ached. But, somehow, I felt like superman.
Three sessions later I was completely spent. I was thankful for the exercise I had been doing, but those “moto muscles” were way, way, out of shape. And my hands have gone soft. But, I felt better than words can explain. I was like a teenager driving home. I had my stereo on blast, a fresh dip in my lip, and when I looked in my rear view mirror I could see the silhouette of a pair of handlebars and a front number plate. I called and texted almost everyone I know that rides. Even called Pops.
When I got home, I jumped in the shower and winced in pain as the water ran over the raw areas behind my knees, and my blistered hands. You guys know that that feeling. Just grab that soap and shampoo and take it like a man!
Then I did something different. I washed all my dishes, folded my laundry, and vacuumed. What the hell? After the long over due chores were finished I went outside and just stared at my truck in the driveway. The grill on the front of my Chevy seemed to be wearing a bigger smile than I was. She was sitting nice and level with that familiar extra 200 lbs in the back. Everything just seemed to be so much different. Better. It’s amazing what having a dirtbike in the back of your truck will do for an old washed up motocrosser like me.
All is right in the universe.
I hope this is happening all over the place. I hope the message of the Lucas Oil AMA Pro Motocross Championship is being heard and all of the live coverage, video shows, and race reports are making people figure out a way to get back to the motocross track.
Six rounds down, six to go. Click back here next Thursday and I’ll have the sound and the fury of the races waiting for you.