But these success stories are rare. More often than not, I get the “Good luck with your motorcycle” send-off at the end that tells me they will probably not think about motocross for another 20 years when they chance upon another over-enthusiastic missionary. I don’t usually think of any of this before I talk to anyone, but I do often wonder what exactly I was after when the conversation is over. Why did I carry on like that? Did I really think he needed a blow-by-blow account of last week’s Carmichael/Stewart face-off? Did he even know Hannah’s first name when we started the conversation?

But even odder than my bouts with strangers are the ones I have with my wife. In these cases, though, I am more like a lawyer than a salesman. I already know my wife’s view of motocross, which amounts to a very casual sort of enthusiasm. And I know from numerous attempts that my pitch is unlikely to cause any growth in that enthusiasm. So instead of trying to raise her interest, I try to objectively prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that motocross is the greatest sport in the history of the universe.

In other words, rather than trying to elevate her with excitement, I am trying to corner her with logic. These proceedings usually occur when Trisha innocently comments on how beautiful or noble another sport is. Rather than saying, “Yes, the Tour de France does look quite challenging,” I rise to defend motocross, which I believe she has insulted by complimenting this other sport.

“Figure skating?” I ask incredulously as we watch Sasha Cohen twirl in circles on TV. I have just asked her what sort of champion she would be if she could pick any sport in the world (I knew she would pick figure skating. This is a set-up.)

“Figure skating is hard, I’m sure, but where’s the grit?” I say. “Motocross, for example, has all of the grace, but it also takes toughness. Plus you have to compete directly against other people. For figure skating to compare to motocross, Michelle Kwan would have to come onto the ice during the last minute of this routine and take out Cohen's front skate. And instead of everyone having a hissy fit, which is what would actually happen in skating, everyone would cheer and say what a great contest it was. If that happened, then I could say that figure skating compares. But don’t count on it.”

My wife is too familiar with this technique to get ruffled. She instead chooses to be playful. “Let’s back up,” she says. “Motocross has grace? Are we talking about the same sport you do every weekend? I’ve watched you for about seven years now, and grace isn’t the word that usually comes to mind.”

“Grace is a very relative thing,” I say, still completely serious. “Anyone can look pretty gliding around on a perfectly flat sheet of ice. But let’s see any of these skaters keep a steady posture through, say, a set of Southwick whoops, or a crooked rut on the face of a 60-foot downhill Hangtown double. In that kind of terrain, Ricky Carmichael has a sort of grace that would shame a ballerina. And for the record, I’ve never seen a ballerina hit the dirt headfirst and get pummeled from behind by a 230-pound machine when she makes a mistake.”

Clearly I’ve won this debate, I think. But I am forgetting her final and most effective defense: indifferent sarcasm. “OK, you win. Motocross is really cool. It’s really hard to ride a motorcycle around in circles. You guys are so awesome.”

I am deflated. She’s gone back to watching the skaters, and I have no one to argue my case with but myself. I feel foolish for having tried to force motocross on yet another person, and wonder whether I should just add motocross to my otherwise complete list of things I won’t sell.

But then I remember you. You are my one success story, dear reader, if only because I know you already like motocross, which makes my job so much easier. With you, I needn’t fill you in on the state of racing or berate your interests to get your attention. Your attention is already there naturally, so I feel free to make my case, assured that you’ll listen carefully and reach the same moto-centric conclusions that I do.

Better yet, since I am writing to you, rather than speaking, I needn’t ever be bothered by any bad reactions. Since I won’t see you, I can just imagine your reaction, which is what I am doing right now. So stop all that uncontrollable grinning, reflect on the life-altering new insights I’ve given you and go try selling motocross yourself. If it doesn’t work out, you can always just write about it.


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