Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Rev Up. It's been a great week around my neck of the woods. The Fall season is so close that you can just begin to smell it in the morning, and the sunset arrives earlier with each passing day. The waning moments of summer are still hanging around though...
Mr. Green: (text reply) "I don't have my gear bag, but I'll be out in a bit."
Thus, Mr. Green set out for a piece of North Carolina property about 10 miles out of town. He knew Mr. Black had been working on his track for a month or so and he always liked laying his eyes on a new motocross track. Upon arrival, Green walked out to join a group of guys sitting on dirt bikes in a huddle. "Well, how is it, boys?" Green asked.
Mr. Black fired his RMZ-450 to life and began tearing around the fresh course, blasting the soft powder berms and making sure he cleared the big 80ft. step up in front of where the group was standing. One by one, the group took out on the track and began a session. Green sat on the tailgate of his truck with a smile as he noticed the large cloud of dust the surrounding trees had trapped about 50 feet above the track.
After 10 laps, Mr. Black rode up to Mr. Green and said, "Go get your gear bag. You can ride this one."
All of a sudden there was a new dust cloud on the property. This one was on the entrance road that grew from Mr. Green's truck throwing gravel as he sped back towards the highway.
Mr. Green's Brother, Mr. Yellow: (via text message) "What you doing?"
Mr. Green: "Riding. Come out to Mr. Black's."
Green threw his bag full of dirty gear in the back of his truck and sped back to the track. He glanced at his watch to see it was 5:15pm, and then had to put the visor down to block the fading sun. By 6:00 p.m., Green was throwing on his goggles and preparing to climb aboard Mr. Black's still hot machine. Green is a former professional so it didn't take him long to get up to speed on the intermediate level track. But, what was more surprising was his brother, Mr. Yellow, who had not been on a track for over three years.
Mr. Pink: "What you doing?"
Green: "Riding."
Pink: "At Black's new place?"
Green: "10-4."
Pink arrived with about 45 minutes of light left. He pulled a helmet on as he watched his brothers, Green and Yellow, flying around the track performing mock take out moves on each other. Pink hadn't been on a dirt bike since he was 12 years old. Over 25 years. Unlike his scrawny brothers, Pink is a business man and stands 6'3", 275 lbs.
Armed with leather dress shoes, a navy polo shirt, and a helmet, Pink threw a leg over and set out for the track. Meanwhile, Green and Yellow had pulled back to the tailgate for more water. As Pink worked out the kinks, Green and Yellow raised their eye brows at the agility their sibling was displaying. Dust was flying off the berms, and even a couple of the doubles were being jumped.
As the light began to fade the group all huddled around the cooler and cracked open a few bottles of suds.
With darkness approaching everyone's phones began to rattle and chirp. The messages were from a similar source and contained a similar message.
"It's dinner time, what are you doing?"
(The group pecking on their phones in unison offered a like reply)
"Riding."
Thanks for reading, see you next week.
