I rode my Suzuki roadbike up. I grabbed few pineapples on the way as per my way for snacking.
Once I got to the race I realised I had no seat so I pushed my roadbike under my mates quickshade, put the bike on its centrestand and lounged on my bike.
My bike has been described as a four-cylinder lounge chair anyway (GSX1400) because like me, it has an ample, big comfortable seat. So my mates line up for their first race. When the five second board goes up I wander over to the fence and wait for the madness. Then 15 odd four-stroke 450Fs all blast out of the gate. Sounds excellent. Thunder. It’s not a tickling contest out there. In MX good manners are as handy as scuba gear.
Each maniac is going to punch his bike through the corner first. Three riders wide blast out of that first corner,the bikes are flat changing up though the gearbox and the roost that is not smashing the next group of riders in landing deep infield!
I got to admit I am starting to feel the rumble. The sound alone is enough to have me smiling. The three manics that just blasted the corner together are elbowing each other and smashing gears as they thunder past me. Just behind them are more madman copping roost to the body and dust to the lungs. But the chase is on. Now Im pumped.
Our guy comes past wide open. I lean over the fence and give him the universal sign language “pin it” and yell as loud as I can while pumping my ‘pin it’ wrist around in the air. I look around around at my fellow spectators. They are looking at me like I just filmed a money shot at a school crossing.
They all have put their iPhones and iPads down to watch the silly old fat man yell at his mate that can not hear him. I ask my fellow spectators “don’t we cheer anymore?”. Then I take a few moments to appreciate the scene. I have parked my fat roadbike under a quickshade at an MX race, I arrived with a pineapple in each pocket. I am not wearing a flat brim hat. Then it occurred to me. Im 175 years old.
Redmond
