As distant as it is from most of life, motocross has a way of lurking into everything. My day-to-day life is filled with habits that relate to riding, even when motorcycles should be nowhere near my mind.

For example, when I am facing a stressful event, I cope by imagining the start of a moto. That means that when I went to the dentist to have four wisdom teeth pulled, it translated this way:

Sitting in the waiting room = Sitting in staging

Entering the operating room = Choosing a gate

The doctor entering the room = The starter lifting the 30-second board

The nurse lifting the IV needle = The board going sideways

The prick of the needle = Clank!

Yes, it is an odd way of dealing. But for some reason, I find it enormously comforting. And while this might not work for everyone, I would guess that some of you have done at least one of the following:

--Practiced your starting-gate reaction time at stoplights.

--Chose the color of your toothbrush in accordance with the color of your bike.

--Veered off the road while noticing how perfect of a tabletop an elevated roadway makes.

--Carved a berm in mashed potatoes.

--Noticed your race number within someone’s license plate sequence.

--Built a gnarly set of sand whoops instead of a castle at the beach.

--Said “Braaap!” to yourself when passing someone forcibly on the freeway.

--Thrown a superman while gliding toward your car on a shopping cart.

--Wished you brought a helmet to the grocery store after sailing over the bars of your shopping cart.

These are silly habits, and maybe even indicators of a deeper psychological ailment. And I am slightly embarrassed to say that I have done them all, save for sailing over the bars of a shopping cart. My supermans are pretty smooth, I must say.

Yet it is reassuring to know that when I am too old for the real thing, I will still have these ridiculous habits to remind me of how much fun I used to have before the concussions caught up to me.

Chances are that if in 50 years you encounter a senile-looking old man who’s built an exact replica of Hangtown in mashed potatoes, that will be me. And you will make that old man’s day if you can find him a red toothbrush, take him to the beach or give him anything that has the number 716 on it.

Do keep me away from any shopping carts though.

Send the author a comment on this column or post about it on the mx775.com message board

Home   Message Board   About   Contact