Old Friends, Dirt Bikes and Singletrack

Posted on September 25, 2021 by Admin

It’s been 20+ years since this group has ridden together but one thing still remains true after all these years-our love of riding dirt bikes.

Even though Ryno and I had never quit riding some of our buddies gave it up to raise a family, focus on their career or just had no one to ride with when others quit and moved on. Whatever the reason, I’m happy to see some of them back on a bike.

Let me introduce you to Daren (Skid) Johnson (also known as whistle ass to his Father) who I met at the dealership we owned almost 30-years ago. Daren brought a lot to the friendship, he was well connected in the dirt bike and snowmobile community. He was raised in Newberry Michigan (yup, he’s a yoopper) and grew up riding like most of us mentioned here. Skid took a job in Alma just nine miles from the dealership and being a gear-head it was only a matter of time…

Fast forward to 2021 and skid is back riding off-road with us. He sold his motorcycle shortly after his daughter was born (I won’t mention the shoulder separation that helped with the decision) some 20+ years ago. It’s really good to see him back riding again!

I make my way home to Michigan from Oregon every year in the late summer to spend a month with family and friends. It’s been a tradition to go to various riding and racing events while here, and this year was no exception. Ryno and I discussed “MotoCamp” this year and decided to go ride Sandtown in the upper peninsula.

Ryno had told me that Skid was riding again but I had yet to see it. After plans were made, and the dates set, I found out that “Shovel-Head Ted (another gang member from the U.P.) would also be joining us at MotoCamp this year.

The stars were lining up, I received a call later that same day from Alec (CowPants) Amstutz to say he’d be joining us as well. What follows is a short video of our MotoCamp reunion tour and shenanigans.

I will tell you this, I have never met a more dedicated, caring and trustworthy group than those who ride motorcycles….enjoy!

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Dead Weight

Posted on August 18, 2021 by Admin

She told Ryno “if you want to win you need to get rid of the dead weight!” This is my buddy’s wife Denise referring to yours truly! Ya know, she’s not wrong but sun-of-a-bitch that stung!

It doesn’t matter, you see, Ryno doesn’t like to ride a harescramble, and the only reason he is here on this day is because I asked him to join me. I look forward to this hometown race every year and like Moto Camp, it’s an annual riding ritual that at least one of us looks forward too.

This race is special to me, it’s a time for me hang out in my home-state with my wife and kids, (the Schnauzers) and camp at the track. There is something magical about being at a racetrack in Michigan during the Summer. The nights are humid, crickets are singing, and all over camp you can hear bench-racers reminiscing about races gone by. Plus, I get to build a campfire-something I can’t do in Bend, Oregon right now due to extreme fire danger.

At the end of the day I just love riding my motorcycle so who gives a shit where we finish? For me, it’s all about friendship, bench-racing, and having fun twisting the throttle.

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The Tracks Were Already Laid

Posted on August 2, 2021 by Admin

The year is 1987 and I’m working two jobs, one at an injection molding company during the day, and the other at the motorcycle dealership my father and I started together in 1984. The business is aptly named “Chesney’s Sport Shop” as my brother Don and Sister Dawn would join us later. In the beginning, we sold Arctic Cat snowmobiles, Husqvarna chain saws, Playbouy pontoons, and canoes.

It’s a normal but somewhat chaotic day at the dealership, phones ringing, people shuffling in and out for parts, service, and product inquiries. My job at the time was to manage the parts department, and speak to customers as time allowed. Later that afternoon the door swung open and in walks a well-dressed guy with a larger-than-life smile and energy that could light up a room. “Hello, I’m Mike, what brings you in today? Hi Mike, Scott, I’m interested in the new 650 Wildcat (Arctic Cat) snowmobile that is supposed to come out next year.” “Yes, quite a sled, It’s supposed to be the fastest machine to ever hit the snow! That’s why I’m here” Scott exclaimed.

You see, Scott was here looking at the new Arctic Cat because, as the title of this blog post says, “The tracks have already been laid”. Scott’s dad Ken rode Arctic Cat snowmobiles back in the ’70s, It was all about brand loyalty and the banter that ensued among rival snowmobilers who have been known to brag about who had the fastest sled.

Scott and I became “fast” friends, he bought the sled, tore it apart, modified the engine (because the fastest sled ever built is never fast enough) so he could ride like the wind through the trails of Northern Michigan. We were hooked to one another like a pickup and trailer, riding just inches away from one another while going well over 100 mph.

Scott’s dad Ken was usually with us on our rides, he would bring up the rear and make sure everyone was accounted for at each stop. Scott and I would be out front jockeying for position, passing one another as opportunities presented themselves. This weekend we were in Munising Michigan, and we were headed to the Buckhorn bar. The trail we took to get there was full of turns, hills, and blind corners but we knew every bump, twist, and turn like the back of our hand. Scott and I were hauling ass up front and everyone behind was buried in a cloud of snow dust.

We came to a stop at the main turn leading to our destination and waited for the others to show up. One by one they showed up while Scott and I talked about how good the trail conditions were. Finally, Ken pulled up, got off his machine, and started to make his way to the front. Scott and I looked at one another and knew what was coming. Ken approached, stood in front of us, ratcheted up his face shield, and said “You know, you two knuckleheads keep riding like that and you’re going to be early for your own funeral!”

Scott lost his father last October, it was a blow to his family, friends, and the community. He was 82-years young.

Fast forward to the present day and Kenneth Scott Boss is about to become a Grandfather, his son Hunter (who also likes to snowmobile) and his wife are 8-months pregnant. Hunter, you better lookout for what’s coming, because, you know, “The tracks have already been laid.”

Godspeed Ken Boss (pictured right with son Scott), you shall live on forever in those following your well-laid tracks.

MM

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Ken Luneack

Posted on March 25, 2021 by Admin

I just got news today that my dad’s best friend (Ken Luneack) has bladder cancer and probably will not live another month because they cannot treat it with his current heart condition. This news is really ironic because I was going to write this page about my Dad and Ken’s wild times together growing up. I never thought I would be writing this page about him leaving us.

Ken has always been a “larger than life” kind of guy. He’s a big, round, and jolly dude, full of spunk, built like a barrel, and just as tough. I called him “Big Daddy”. In fact, he kind of reminds me of Hoss Cartwright from Bonanza. To prove this point, we were on a hunting trip in Wyoming when I spotted this 10-gallon hat in the window of a western shop, and I knew Ken had to have it. 15 minutes later, he stepped out on the curb with it atop his big round head and proceeded to strut across town like he owned the place.

If you know Big Daddy like I do, you know that it wouldn’t take long for trouble to show up. Later that evening, after a few cocktails, Ken was trying to pick a fight with a real cowboy but settled on bringing a rather plump girl back to the motorhome to tease me, I was 13 at the time, and they thought it would be fun. I was sound asleep when the door popped open, and the ship rocked when she came through the door. Ken was trying to talk her into getting into bed with me. YOU SUMBITCH KEN!

I got him back the next evening… We had been out hunting all day and rented a hotel room that night to take showers. There were eight of us, and I was one of the first to shower. Ken had been down at the local watering hole for cocktail hour (which usually starts at noon for Big Daddy), so he was one of the last to get a shower. Big Daddy came to the bus and ask where the shower room was, so I told him, “It’s the first door on the right”. Of course, it was the first door on the left. I watched him waddle all the way down there with that big ass hat on his head, turn to the first door on the right and….walk right in! WTF, I didn’t think the door would be open? In my mind, he would check many doors and figure out I just screwed him over!

He was in there for what seemed an eternity. I was laughing my ass off, trying to figure out what the hell he could be doing. Was the room empty, so he showered anyway? Was there a lonely fat girl in there? What was up? Just then, Ken came backing out of the room, hands waving side to side with a giant man poking him in the chest with his finger, suggesting that he wasn’t pleased that Big Daddy woke him up! I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. What did Ken say when he lumbered his way back? “That was a good one, Little Chez!”

He has always had a great sense of humor. He would have to if he was able to stand My Dad and his friends, a bunch of crazy bastards. Ken helped my Dad get his snowmobile business off the ground by letting him display the machines inside his bowling alley in Alma. He even had his own bowling team (the Rupp Riders) with fancy red bowling shirts and a Rupp Snowmobile patch that was sewn on each shirt pocket.

One night during leagues, my father had a customer interested in one of the machines, so Dad fired it up in the bowling alley so he could hear it run. “Chez, Chez!! Ken shouted you’re going to have to shut that thing down. People can’t see the bowling lanes!” The place was just filled with blue smoke.

Ken bought 3 snowmobiles from my Dad, one to ride while the other two were being fixed-and that’s pretty much how Ken operated, planning for failure but always with a plan. As of this writing, it’s April 22nd, 2013, and I’m traveling back to Michigan in June with my Nephew to see my folks. I hope to see Ken one more time before he leaves us. He’s been a great friend to my Dad, and I have admired his zest for life. For me, there is only one “Big Daddy,” and his name is Ken Luneack. Ken passed away a few weeks after my last visit. We will miss him dearly.

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Moto-Not Just A Lifestyle!

Posted on August 3, 2020 by Admin

In the midst of this Pandemic, racial tensions, and a strained economy, I’m always amazed at the generosities I witness at the motocross track. It’s early August, 2020 and I’m visiting my hometown track minutes from where I grew up. I am here to watch my good friend Ryan “Ryno” Weatherby race his new 2021 KTM 450 SXF.

I arrived at the track a little late and missed practice but was surprised to see so many riders there. It was as if there were no pandemic or economic stress in site. What happened next reminded me how good people (especially members of the motorcycle riding community) can be. Riders were being summoned to the starting line for the first moto’s of the day. The National Anthem began to play and what I heard was not a 6-year old singing terribly off tune, 🙂 — on the contrary, she knew all of the words and never missed a beat all the way to the end!

As she belted out the main chorus a young (maybe 5-year old) rider came skidding to a stop in front of me, shut off his engine and addressed the anthem by being respectful to his Country and all riders in attendance. In less than 5-minutes I was reminded how genuine and respectful people really are, even the very young.

Ryno was signed up to race the 40 and 45+ classes on the new Katoom which was race number 4 and 6 during the morning program. He would have very little time to get himself turned around for his next moto.

Moto #1 was the 40+ class with 8-9 riders in a staggered start with another class. Ryan’s class was first off the gate and his run to the first corner was met with a rider in front of him missing a shift, Ryan plowed into him and went down taking a nice sized strip of skin out of his back via a rather sharp footpeg. When he jumped back on the bike he was dead last. Less than 6-minutes into the race and he’s already stalking the leader, hell-bent, hurt, pissed off, and on a mission to win the moto but it was not to be. He would have to settle for second this time.

Time for moto #2, 45+ class and 13 riders as compared to the smaller 40+ class he had just finished. I (being the smart-ass that I am) asked him why he decided to take a dirt nap and spot those guys so many positions? I don’t think he heard me because it sounded like he said “Chuck Who?”

With moto #2 on the line and ready to roll the green light appears and heads drop to focus on the gate. He gets a much needed good start and is near the front without incident. From there it only took him one corner to gain the lead and stretch it out all the way to the checkers.

The rest of the day was much the same, holeshot, and gone…Ryno went 1-1 overall in both classes. I really missed being at the track, seeing familiar faces, smelling race gas and listening to the music of engines revving at max capacity. It made me feel a little like the world would be ok if not for a moment. “Hey Ryno, I brought the 3-honey and there’s a harescramble at Polka Dots on the 23rd, wanna go racing?”

MM

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A New World

Posted on April 1, 2020 by Admin

I think it goes without saying that we are living in a new world. Even my Father who is 86 years old has never been told to stay at home and self-quarantine. As much as I understand the ramifications of not heeding this warning I still have trouble being cooped-up.

My wife and I have never (in almost 14-years of marriage) seen this much of each other-all day-every day. Don’t get me wrong, we love each other, get along great, and generally respect each other. We’re only human and I know that when I tell her I’m going out for a while it’s a welcome gesture.

March has been more like winter here in Bend than it was in February, so getting outside has been hit-or-miss. This may or may not be a blessing as it relates to keeping people inside? We’ll have to wait and see if couples start strangling each other.

Thank God for motorcycles and bicycles. Jenn and I have managed to escape the REAL-WORLD and keep our sanity by riding out into the desert a couple times this month. We met up with friends to camp, fish, hike, and bike just three days before they slammed the doors shut on all of our state parks.

Yesterday I met up with a friend and rode about 35-miles of singletrack on the KTM-300 TPI. The dirt was perfect and I even liked that there was a bit of snow and ice left in the shadows, it makes things interesting. I packed some special cargo for the turn at the top of our loop. Velvet Underpants from Crux Fermentation Project, Google is your friend.

300

People have gone bat-shit crazy buying up everyday goods needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. TOILET PAPER…WTF! We usually go to our little local market and buy enough food for the coming week, usually fresh food and there has been plenty of that-go figure?

I recently got a little pissed off at a friend I’ve known since childhood who is a registered nurse. She was posting notes all over social media early on about how bad this pandemic was going to be. Was she wrong? Not in the least, in fact, pretty much everything she said was going to happen, has! My issue with her messages wasn’t whether she was right or wrong, it was that the messages were going to help cause a huge panic – which they have. Hers and every other doomsday messenger has caused a shortage of several items needed for everyday life.

This pandemic has come, will peak, and pass but not before it wipes out those who are most susceptible to its perils. It won’t do any good to panic, hoard food and be selfish. We all just need to calm down and help do our part to stay healthy and safe while limiting the purchase of certain items we THINK we need to survive for a couple weeks.

I have been getting some good advice from a self-taught professional on how to build a healthy immune system. In fact, when it comes to being proactive in maintaining a healthy lifestyle, diet, and exercise, this guy has helped me more than any M.D. I’ve ever seen. This doesn’t include being stitched up or having broken bones set. THAT I DO NEED A REAL DOCTOR FOR!

Yes, we are living in a new world and as compassionate individuals, we are here to help each other as much as we can. Self-preservation is a natural instinct and as a motorcyclist, I get it but damn do we have to be so selfish with the TP? COME-ON-MAN!

 

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2019 Desert 100, Odessa Washington

Posted on April 12, 2019 by Admin

Just three short weeks ago my friend Harold from Giant Loop Moto said to me “Hey, you should race the Desert-100! I promptly replied, “what’s the Desert-100?” Harold said to me with a straight face “it’s the largest race in the country and if you’ve never been there you owe it to yourself to attend!”

I went home that night and Googled the event and sure enough there it was in all its glory. After countless hours surfing the topic, YouTube video’s and other miscellaneous tidbits I decided to attend.

Titsy-Moto (AKA Jennifer Chesney) had no idea of such plans as she was busy earning a living somewhere off-site, I would have to break the news later that I had already signed up. The way I planned to sell it in was that we (Jenn, and our two schnauzers) could load up in the new Sprinter and camp in total seclusion for 4-days. I would also find a way to include her in the festivities.

It turns out that the Desert-100 has been going on for over 40-years! WHAT!! I’m a dyed-in-the-wool, hard-core off-roader and I’ve never heard of this event until 3 weeks ago? Anyway, they have this gig figured out. This is a full family affair, and if you don’t want to race the 100, you can participate in any number of other riding activities. It turns out the 100 is held on private land smack-dab in the middle of the desert near Odessa Washington. Participants can join in on several different Poker-Runs, a Dual-Sport tour or just ride the square (a six square mile off-road course) to their heart’s content.

Ok, Titsy Moto’s on board, now I just have to figure out how to get 3 bikes and all our gear to the venue. We need a trailer and we need one fast! Our initial thought was to go rent one so we went to the local Uhaul and looked at our options. This was a dead-end as the trailers didn’t have the proper tie-down mechanisms installed.

Finally, a few days before the race my friend Dale stepped up to the plate and let us use his EZ Hauler 6X10 enclosed trailer. But, there was still one small problem, I could only get two bikes in Dale’s trailer. With that, I called my friend Harold over at Giant Loop and asked him if he had room in his trailer for the KTM 1090? Harold was going to set up as a vendor for the event so I knew he may have some extra room and he did.

With all the stars aligned it was time to prep the bike, load the van and hit the road. Titsy-Moto and I worked for two days to ensure we had what we needed for 4 days on the road, camping off the grid and riding motorcycles for three of those four days.

We left bend on a Wednesday before the race and stayed in an ORV riding area just Northeast of the Tri-Citys in Southeastern Washington. The road back to the campsite was about five miles of dirt but fairly smooth. There was a big sand dune to the East and a large cattle feed-lot to the West. Guess which way the wind blew that night? PEEEEYOUUU!!

The information on the Stumpjumpers website (hosts for the event) was that riders couldn’t arrive on Thursday before noon or we would have to wait to enter the venue camping area. It worked out perfectly because when we awoke Thursday morning we only had a couple hour drive to Odessa. We found a nice little family cafe that had the best burgers and shakes in town–the only burgers and shakes in town!

After lunch, we headed West to the site of the 100 hoping to get a premium spot in the campground and we did. It was directly across from the beer tent and food carts. We set up camp and settled in for the duration.

Friday morning was the official beginning of the event and riders funneled in all day like ants on an ant-hill. To this day I have never seen so many campers, dirt-bikes, and riders of all ages in one location. It was truly a spectacle. Jenn and I went for a short 70-mile ride with a nice Canadian friend we met. His name is James Precious and he was there like I was to participate in the event for the first time. We became quick friends and are already looking forward to meeting up and riding again soon.

James Precious

 

We put a cap on the night early as old farts often do so we could get a good nights sleep and get ready for the dual sport ride/poker run in the morning. It turns out that I signed us up for the wrong poker run and Titsy-Moto would have had to navigate the BMW GS on the desert course with street tires so I paid a few extra bucks to ride the backroad course instead. The dual sport poker run was a total of 130-miles and included a stop at the local brewery for lunch. It turns out that the dual sport ride was still a challenge for Titsy Moto and her big GS thanks to a mile long section of muddy two-track that caused her to go down in a panic-rev and come up looking a bit like the whoop monster covered in sludge! She soldered on…

Back at the van we peeled off our muddy attire, put the bikes in the trailer and focused on some excellent grub Jenn had prepped before the launch of our trip. Ahhh the joys of camp food and a nice glass of wine after a ride, nothing better. Why is it that everything tastes better in camp? Time to hit the sack, we’ve got a race to run in the morning!

It’s 7:00 Sunday morning and I’m wide awake in anticipation of running my second desert race ever and my first desert 100.  We are supposed to be ready for the riders meeting at 8:30, on our bikes, and ready to race by 9. Last night I added the check-point stickers to my helmet and motorcycle, fixed my bib number to my chest protector and zip-tied the hangtag to the left side of my handlebar as instructed. I wouldn’t find out why until I actually started racing. They use these stickers and tags to verify riders hit all the checkpoints on the bike they started with.

It’s a funny thing how the mind can create adrenalin in anticipation of something. I remember as a kid driving to the races, I would get butterflies most of the way to the track but once I was on the starting line, engine revving wide open, they were gone. Why is that? At 58-years young it’s still exactly the same. I felt like a young kid again, all the excitement in anticipation of the start of the race was still there right where I left it!

8;35 am, time to go! I hop aboard the new 2019 KTM 300 TPI, thumb the starter button and hear that familiar 2-stroke symphony ringing in my ears, it’s singing my favorite tune. The smell of race-gas on a Sunday morning. My Church is in service!

I kiss Titsy-Moto, snick the smoker into first gear and roll patiently up to the riders meeting. Once there I can see a few hundred riders already in front of me lining the road leading to the exit where a pace-car is ready to take us to the starting line. Several minutes pass as we wait patiently for the riders meeting to start. Hundreds of riders continue to file out of the pits behind me in a sea of colors and sounds of 2 and 4-stroke harmony. The official word on the street is that there are over 1,200 riders for the race today.

With riders meeting now over the official word is to start your engines and follow (not pass) the pace-car to the starting line. Just then 1200 off-road motorcycles fire up in unison, what an absolute thrill, gave me goosebumps, and even now as I type these words.

If you have never witnessed the start of a desert race, there is nothing quite like it. We had three waves of starts. The first wave (and the largest group of about 700 riders) was the 100-mile class in all age groups. The second wave was the 50-mile classes (old-farts, girls and kids) and the last wave was the 100-mile team riders.

The officials line up the bikes in a field, side by side until all riders have a spot to start. The riders have to shut the bike off and stand about 10 yards behind and wait for the cannon to go off signaling the official start of the race. The rider then has to run as fast as he/she can to their bike, start it up and head down the start straight for about a mile until the course funnels down to about a 20ft wide section of the race course. They then have to navigate the course any way they can without going outside any pink ribbon course markers. 100-mile racers will make 2 complete 50-mile laps. The fastest riders can do the full 100 in under 4-hours.

My race was next, they pulled us forward where the first wave took off, had us shut off the bikes and walk back behind them for the start. This process took about 15-minutes. There was a young boy, maybe 10-12 years old standing next to me and I could tell he was really nervous about the start, I told him I was too but not to worry, we all were! Just then we looked to our right and saw the big cloud of pink smoke from the cannon go off signaling the start of our race.

I started running as fast as I could while trying to dodge other riders who somehow got on the wrong side of me (see video below) and are now crisscrossing in front of me. I reach my bike, throw up the kickstand, thumb the electric start and I’m off! Running gingerly not knowing what to expect, I try and carefully weave through the sagebrush without hitting someone or getting hit. The first several minutes are chaotic with bikes and riders jocking for position on several racing lines that developed from the first 700 riders.

Once we passed the pit area where all the spectators stood, we quickly rode into the backcountry and disappeared from view. For the first several minutes I was trying to stay calm with the notion that I was going to ride conservatively until I could figure things out. My plan was to stay smooth, consistent and out of harm’s way. After all, I wasn’t running foam inserts (called bib mousse) in my tires and a flat would definitely take me out of any thought of a top spot in the race. I was viewing my efforts this year as a learning curve and not to get too serious.

So much for that plan, I had my watch on and my odometer set to zero at the start so I could gauge my progress and at the halfway point realized that I was in the hunt for a podium based on last year’s winning times. “Shit, I could get on the podium if I can keep this pace so I dialed it up and was soon picking off riders one by one. This is fun! I had a grin under my helmet that was child-like. Then it happened, the rear tire flatted at mile 38 with 12-miles to go. All I could do was hope to finish. My goals had suddenly changed. I can’t come back without a shirt! (only finishers get a shirt) so I rode the rest of the way just praying that the tire would stay on the rim while trying to navigate the deep greasy whoops and lava rock that littered the course.

It seemed like an eternity before the campground and pits came into view and even then I had no idea where the finish line was? All I saw was bikes pitting for gas (100-mile riders) and no checkered flag in sight. Was that it, is the race over now? I’m idling along looking for some sort of clue when up ahead I can finally see a course marker and checkered flag with officials signaling 50-mile riders into the winner’s circle. It was finally over! Whew, what a relief, I couldn’t do another lap, no way in hell! My hands were raw with multiple blisters and I was cramping up. As I pulled through the finish line I saw the most beautiful site, Titsy Moto was waiting patiently as I made my way through timing and scoring. The official result, 2:37 minutes. Not bad for riding the last 12-miles on a flat tire at 10mph.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hwiBVMLFms

The staff and volunteers from the Stumpjumpers Motorcycle Club are all first class and did an outstanding job of organizing this event. I can’t say enough to show my appreciation to those fine people. They had the course carefully marked, people on ATV’s with medical supplies and equipment in every corner of that 50-mile course, and sweep riders to make sure no one got left behind. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!

I would also like to thank Harold and Ryan from Giant Loop here in Bend for sherpaing my 1090 too and from the event, you guys are awesome! Special shout out to Dale Navish for the use of the trailer for which made this trip possible in the first place, thank you, Dale, I’ll buy you a frosty beverage soon. Last but certainly not least I want to thank my wife Titsy-Moto for all the love and support, you enhance my life in ways that can’t be measured here with words! Love you forever…

I will be back next year with bib mousse in my tires and a serious look on my face, that is until I start the race, then I will be all smiles 🙂

MM

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2018 Motocross of Nations

Posted on October 26, 2018 by Admin

Red-Necks and Red-Bud

This year the 2018 Motocross of Nations was held in my home state of Michigan. I had been dreaming about MXoN coming to RedBud as long as I can remember and this year that fantasy finally came true. As soon as I found out that MXoN was coming to RedBud I bought tickets for my wife and I. Then I called all my buddy’s and began making plans for the trek back to Michigan in October for the motocross event of a lifetime.

This was a big deal, not only were we going to see the best competitors in the world race head to head on one of the coolest National MX tracks in the Country but just weeks before the race we found out that Travis Pastrana, Kevin Windham, and Ryan Sipes were going to represent Team Puerto Rico and Travis would do it on a 2-stroke! I’m not sure if I was more excited to watch Tomac and Herlings go at it or Windham and Travis do their thing? One thing was for sure, it was going to be a party of epic proportions!

Here’s the plan; I fly to Michigan with all my gear on September 30th for a little pre-race family-time with the family. Jennifer will fly to Michigan from Boston on October 1st and meet up with me at the folks for a few days before heading South to Buchanan with Ryan and Denise Weatherby. The plan was to head to the track Thursday before qualifying began so we had an optimal placement within the campground. We executed this perfectly and by Thursday evening we were several beers into our first night of camping with the rest of the international motocross community.

Friday night I got sick sharing a bag of Cheetos with Maddy-Moto and it seems I have a thing with each member of the Weatherby clan-Rayan-Whiskey, Denise-Ice-Cream, Maddy-Cheetos…I’m not quite sure how this all came about but I’m pretty sure the FDA is involved in this somehow?

It’s Friday morning and the rain came down in buckets overnight. The track is full of water as the riders do an early pre-qualification race, track walk. It’s already clear to the teams that this is going to be a mudder! The forecast was for rain every day through the event on Sunday. This condition did little to dampen the spirits of the riders, teams or spectators. On the contrary, it seemed as though, like a wet dog, people were wound up like an 8-day clock. Things were about to come un-corked!

If you have ever been to RedBud for an MX National you have probably heard about B-Lot? If not I’ll give you the 10-cent tour. B-Lot is a place where anything can and does happen. Let me put it like this, they caught a mud road on fire! How? I guess 5-gallons of gas and a match will do it…not enough for ya? How about stripping your clothes off and running through it! Oh ya, the Red-Necks of Red-Bud were in full swing.

Ryno

Another super-cool, planned event was Pit-Bike of Nations to be held on Friday night. All the teams were gathering over at the night track directly behind the Racer-X live broadcast booth where Jason Wygant and his team were. Ryan Villopoto and the Brown Brothers were representing team USA but the track soon became mobbed by spectators that had bypassed the barricades. It took nearly an hour to clear the track before the event could begin. Once underway, Team USA showed their brilliance in the mud on small wheels by finishing first overall and bringing home the Pit-Bike of Nations trophy.

Saturday morning came with another round of rain overnight and left the track full of water once again. Fortunately for the riders, the crew at RedBud hauled in a few hundred thousand yards of sand which displaced the water well into the base of the track. With time and several laps of practice on Saturday morning, the track began to develop some good lines. The racing was actually quite good but the U.S. team of Tomac, Barcia, and Plessinger could only muster up 9th in qualifying. The good news was that they drew 2nd spot gate pick for the race on Sunday.

So far it looks like the Netherlands, France, and Italy were the teams to beat as they were hauling-ass in the deep wet sand. The European riders are well versed in these conditions and looked the part. After watching qualifying on Saturday, I knew that we had our work cut out for us but I was still optimistic about our chances.

The best race of the day? Without a doubt was Team Puerto Rico going to the B-Final in the last chance qualifier of the day. Windham, Pastrana, and Sipes rode their ass off narrowly beating out the Japanese team to secure their spot on the line for Sunday morning. The crowd was in a frenzy and I knew it was going to be another good night at the B-Lot!

Windham

For Jenn and I, there’s never a dull moment at the Weatherby camp and that coupled with the discotheque that arrived next door pumping out ground shattering tunes, we knew we were in for another long night. Rather than going on here about the rest of the event, I’ll let the video below sum it up for you.

REEEEEEEEEED-BUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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New Biker Wave

Posted on August 23, 2018 by Admin

My wife and I recently traveled by motorcycle to Astoria Oregon and back, taking mostly all backroads. It was supposed to be a very relaxing four days of riding the Oregon backcountry and getting to know a coastal town known for its great fishing and freight industry service.

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Luckily, we had excellent weather with little smoke from surrounding fires burning both to the North and South of us. However, due to the extremely hot temperatures in Central Oregon, the fog rolled in off the coast and we were not able to even see the water from the 101. We decided to make the remainder of the trip a slow, relaxing ride through the Willamette Valley while looking for some fine wine samples.

While riding the backroads, we encountered the usual parade of motorcyclist touring the same routes, some would wave enthusiastically while others kept to themselves. I’m ok with it either way (see biker wave). But, there was a new wave by a rider on a seasoned and well worn BMW, whereby, the wave came with the riders left foot sticking out into the wind. I have seen this before but only in Europe.

It sure makes more sense to me, taking a foot off the peg vs taking a hand off the handlebar. This would grant the rider with more control over the motorcycle should something or someone jump out in front of his or her path. With the left foot wave, you still have control of the handlebar, clutch, throttle and both brakes. The only thing you temporarily lose is the shifter.

Taking a hand off the handlebar (even for a split second) could spell disaster if something runs out in front of you on a motorcycle, you have been served!

MM

 

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Heritage Motorcycle Brands are DEAD!

Posted on March 6, 2018 by Admin

Remember Harley Davidson, Indian Motorcycle, and every other American-made heavyweight cruiser? They’re all dead! Why? Because the next generation and the ones to follow could care less about heavy, loud, gas-farting noisemakers.

Polaris Industries invested in the wrong brand, sure they are growing in share with Indian Motorcycles today, but what happens when there are no more Harley customers to steal from?

The next generation of thrill-seekers is way different than my generation, that’s for sure. We grew up riding motorcycles right across from our house in the empty field. How many empty fields do you see across from your house today? Farmland doesn’t count either, it turns out; they don’t like people on motorcycles ripping up their precious crops-go figure!

Nope, tomorrow’s youth is interested in one thing, their phones, and everyone on the other end. If the motorcycle industry is to survive the coming generations, they are going to have to get creative. I see Luke Skywalker meets Pokyman Go.

Imaging hopping on an electric or other-worldly powered bike, pulling on your helmet with a heads-up display (which is connected to your social ride-tribe via a hand-held device), where-by your team encounters the warlords of the woods in a heated battle of killing the aliens while riding along your favorite trail.

Am I wrong about this? Maybe, and maybe not, but one thing is certain: three-wheeled motorcycles like the Slingshot and Spyder are just a band-aid for dying boomers. Those trikes will be dead soon too.

Sorry for all the doom and gloom here, but I’m trying to save the motorcycle industry here!

You have been warned–From the future

MM

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