Motocross Track

Last Friday afternoon after surfing, hanging out at the Infinity Surf board shop where the dog's best buddies works the trustworthy but slow VW was headed up the clogged 5 when the phone rang. Not having hands free anything I quickly answered and said , "On the freeway, call you back". The weekend was almost here and plans had not been firmed up because the promise of rain in the forecast.

There was a desert race close to Ridgecrest but racing in the cold and wet didn't sound like fun, the boat needed more work as usual but Sunday might bring rain. Then when I returned the call after parking the van and found that Buck (Blair) wanted to go riding Saturday but not speedway or desert but motocross. So after considering that it had been several years since I had tried to break any old bones or crack ribs I agreed to me his crew at the track in Riverside. My motocross riding probably started about the same time the sport started here in the USA after seeing the Europeans ride at Saddleback Park. Then my first race was at a converted flat track in Huntington Beach and many, many others since. The first thing I noticed that was wrong was my flip flops didn't work well in the mud. The operators are constantly watering the dirt to keep the dust down and I stepped from my Nissan into the mud and my flip flops stuck.






Buck had given me directions earlier on where to find him at the park and with myself there was just three trucks sitting by ourselves until another truck pulled up with a fellow and a novice woman rider. After she unloaded and suited up she asked what track she should start out on. Of course Buck led her to the mini-track after I thought we were going to the Vet track and I was following everybody else as the place was new to me. Once on the small track made for fifties and a 6 year old I felt quite at home except my motorcycle couldn't get out of a fast idle and Buck's KTM overheated from going too slow.






We then moved over to a larger and faster track and it all sorted to come back to me, the sounding of ribs breaking, the missed landing, the motorcycle flying through the air without me, me flying without the motorcycle, the inside of an ambulance, oh, well none of that happened. My Yamaha stalled in one corner after I did a berm shot with out fanning the clutch then after a while I could clear most of the jumps on the track, well my version of clearing is not crashing, and I started to have fun and pass other riders. Buck being his usually showoff self would blow by me but after the morning was over he had crashed and hurt himself again while I continued to ride more while they loaded up. Sort of the turtle and hare saga. When I arrived home unloaded, hosed off the mud from my bike I searched the Internet to see when the next Old timers MX race was only to find out that although they still race they don't not very often or very close. Probably by the time the next race comes up that is close enough I will be interested in doing something else, in fact Frank (the owner of Surfworks) just started racing stand up paddling surfboards in the ocean and his last race almost killed him (heart attack) but he has an extra board and it must be safer that my last kayak surfing experience without a skirt.

Check is in the Mail

Last week the very hot weather in California had some high breaking hot days. Luckily the surf was also breaking and three days were spent at the beach surfing and riding my (new to me) beach cruiser I had rescued from the creek. Lots of things go into the creek by our house beside golf balls and shopping carts. There are always scooters and bikes that get thrown in. Today I recovered a brand new basket ball while walking the dog. Maybe it was a LA Lakers fan saying his last farewell to the almost year around basketball playoffs. The found beach cruiser only needed a little straightening and mud removal, then the bars were shorten three inches on each side, a different seat (my butt is not that large) installed, some orange grips and several leftover stickers were added. When in doubt always add decals and they also can cover a board ding in an emergency. A couple of weeks ago a Hobie Henry Ford long board left my house to ride in the back of a very nice 56 Chevy 2 door wagon in exchange for some Franklin's. I had completely forgot the ding under the In and Out decal so I threw in a leash to finish the deal.

While in the water last week the dog was left to guard our belongings and protect but she failed as some small decals were applied to my decal-less van by our favorite rack builder Frank of Surf Works. The dog usually sleeps or watches the rabbits and squirrels out the window waiting patiently until she can get out and chase them. The dog has several friends that will stop by the van and take her out for a walk when she is on guard duty. Frank is one of her buddies so she probably helped him paste the decals on the van. Later to balance the added weight of the decals a Save Trestles sign was put in the starboard porthole to prevent heeling when blasting down PCH.

Saturday my departure off to the boat was delayed until Craig the mailman made his stop to discuss surfing San O but my interest was for the check in the mail. Of course the promised item didn't appear and my UPS shipment of an outboard bought on EBay wasn't expected on Saturday but it is probably stuck in the same black hole as the insurance check. Funny the insurance company keeps calling me for a "Customer Satisfaction Survey" and today a survey was in the mail. They do know how to survey but they have no idea what happen to the missing check or how to track it.

When we went out sailing Sunday it was foggy but you could see enough to navigate the channel and of course as the sun rose higher the fog was supposed to burn off. Apparently the sun was stuck in a black hole as almost four hours went by before we could see anything. Going out we came upon a trail of flowers floating in the harbor. My first mate surmised that somebody must be showing their respect for a lost one and since we were lost in the fog we never did see the source. Today, Wednesday, celebrates seven days the insurance check and the UPS shipment have spent together in the black hole and in Craig's postal deliver today there was a envelope marked "Free-Pre-Paid Cremation! DETAILS INSIDE" Now there must be some connection between the floating flowers in the fog Sunday and the Trident Mailer in the mailbox. The Trident's return address is Rapid City, South Dakota and that is a long way from any ocean. To me a classical Viking funeral with lots of flames and fire works sound like a lot more fun than just scattering ashes but how to do it when you sail single handed most of the time may be somewhat difficult to carry out. As that may take a lot of planning and thinking the idea may have to wait. Maybe the Trident Society knows how to do a Viking Farewell. I will note that question on their enclosed self-paid reply card and return it to them for suggestions.

Previous Word of the Day

finca

a ranch or large farm in a Spanish-speaking country, esp. a plantation in tropical Spanish America.
[Origin: 1905–10; <> income from a property > the property itself), deriv. of OSp fincar to remain, stative deriv. of fincar (Sp hincar) to drive in, fix, sink (a nail), alter. of ficar

"After forty days, when the child is fully integrated into the community, the routine of going down to the fincas begins. From when I was very tiny, my mother used to take me down to the finca, wrapped in a shawl on her back."

FIRST VISIT TO THE FINCA. LIFE IN THE FINCA (Chapter IV) I, Rigoberta Menchu AN INDIAN WOMAN IN GUATEMALA (Winner of the 1992 Nobel Peace Prize)