Either they make it look easy, or they just make it easy, I still don’t know. After trying to ride the insuperable Mount Morris motocross track, I do know if it was easy, it wouldn’t be fun.
The now infamous Jessie Coombs and I loaded our bikes in my Ranger and rolled out to High Point Raceway before 5:30 Tuesday evening. We were stoked—all the guys bailed out on practice so we were riding on pure girl power! We arrived at the track as the workers turned all eyes on us. After unloading our bikes, we were gearing up to undress when our audience came into play. I pulled my riding shorts out of my gear bag, wondering, how the hell am I going to get these thing on? Jessie asked me if I liked wearing spandex, as she had always thought about doing so.
“Dude, hell yeah, they’re padded,” I said, picking the shorts up to show her. “They’re the best biking shorts on the market; every endurance rider swears by them.”
“I’ll have to get a pair,” she agreed. “It’s not just like monkey butt—it’s monkey everything.“
Jessie grew up racing at High Point, so she showed me the line around the track. This would be a good time to admit that I know nothing about the lines in motocross, as I couldn’t hook any of the turns. I squared off the corners and avoided falling into the ruts whenever I could; the track had yet to be bulldozed after the weekend’s race, so the hardened ruts, rocks and elevation challenged the trailblazer in me. I held gear second open to third, before slamming on the brakes for each jump. Jessie started doubling out of the whoops, and doing the step-ups. I was impressed, thinking, there’s no way I’m jumping!
I laughed when I came to the tunnel jump the Pros had been doubling over; I was fascinated at slow I was going over it in comparison. I figured my lap time must have been at least four minutes. Treachery consumed me and I couldn’t imagine how it must feel going twice that fast.
The bike I rode was smoking fast compared to my stocker at home, though the suspension felt just as sweet. I attacked the corners, really wanting to rip the rough straight-aways and open up the throttle…prior to putting the brakes on my progress. I started sweating after consecutive laps, and then the magic happened…Jessie asked if I still wanted to ride the Cross Country course.
“and I never wanted nothin’ more…”
Jessie took off through the woods, blasting off ahead of me. Her speed in the woods kept me on the gas as I worked my way to her back tire. I thrived on the timbered trails in Pennsylvania, tempting a true test of my technique…