Editor’s Note: I would like to apologize for any confusion or
perceived insults that any ATV riders and ATVScene-sters out there may
have felt after Ping’s last column. The truth is, he respects all
racers—two or four wheels (though he really can’t stand mimes who ride
unicycles, but Millsaps is all right). It’s just that quadcycles are
bigger, so they make bigger targets for his vitriol, kind of like
Brokeback Mountain jokes or homeschooling. He wants nothing to do with
Doug Gust or John Natalie on a quadcycle track either, and he’s still
waiting to get together with Johnny Gallagher at a GNCC for a weekend
race-off: Quads on Saturday, Bikes on Sunday. He’s just afraid that the
ATV guys will use him as a welcome mat in the first corner, then hang
him from the podium like a 12-point buck. DC
Got a simple one for ya. Do you let your wife ride?
photo: Simon Cudby
I do my best to keep her off a motorcycle. It’s for her own good. The last time she threw a leg over a bike was last summer. We were staying at our friends' Brock and Tricia Sellards’ house in New Philadelphia, Ohio, for a couple weeks. There’s not much to do in New Philly, especially where Brock lives, which is about 20 miles outside of town. So one day, the girls decided to go riding on two Honda Cubs that Brock had restored. Keep in mind, they don’t know how to ride. They also didn’t think they needed helmets, or any other gear for that matter, because they saddled up in shorts, tanks-tops, and flip flops—full Glamis mode.
Fueled by some designer coffee and a little boredom, they headed out onto Brock’s outdoor track to find a jump. They rolled up to a 70-foot tabletop and proceeded to initiate a grudge match to see who could jump the farthest. They took turns hitting the jump, going faster, higher, and farther each time until they started to look like Evel Kneivel hitting his first ramp jump. Maybe we should have told them to stand up when they take off and land.
Somehow they managed to get through it without going down, but it was only by the grace of God. We had to hide the keys to the bikes after that. The next day, my wife looped out a 110 on Brock’s driveway trying to show the other girls how to do a start. That was the last straw: They were banned from all dirt bikes for the week.
So, Jonathan, I do my best to keep her off motorcycles. If she brings it up, I just start talking about shoe sales, Brad Pitt, or the mall and she’s over it.
Could you please tell me how much SX riders get paid to win their heat races and how is the pay for a first, second, and third in the main event. Thanks.
Are you serious? Typically, a gold-digger like yourself will try to sugarcoat it or find out how much loot the riders are pulling down discreetly. Not you. You are the bottom feeder of the proverbial fish in the sea. Girls like you want a factory ride more than most privateer riders. What happened to you as a child that your only ambition in life is to hook a successful man? Girls like you make me want to vomit. And I don’t mean just a little mini-throw-up that gets to the back of your mouth and then gets swallowed back down; I’m talking about a full-on, toilet-hugging, vein-popping, I-can’t-believe-how-much-bile-is-coming-out-of-me upheaval that flexes your abdomen so tight that you crap your pants in the process..
Wait, you’re a girl, right?
Mike DaRuky. Orange County