Here I sit nodding on the keyboard, teetering a 20oz of Joe, working on my CRT tan while I wait for that Jetzons note of arrival… Ok it’s time for all the Fems to leave the room. Are you with me here guys? Let’s go tell it like it is and get into some trouble in the process.
I’ll start from the beginning, well, My beginning. Like most of you, I’m sure; my Dad enabled my two-wheels-with-an-engine addiction. At age seven after some blue eyed prodding and promising straight A’s, I was given a finished kit minibike made from plans in the back of Popular Mechanics. Without a clue, I pulled that Briggs to life, hopped on, grabbed a handful of throttle and launched myself full-tilt-boogie into the Oak tree at the end of the driveway. Undaunted, I saddled back up and repeated the process, but this time creating a new arrangement in the evergreen hedgerow. All sans any protective gear. I was
Now at this formidable age my neuoranatomical network and synapse connection was made, never to be broken. Sorry girls, there ain’t no turning back. Granted this passion has taken different forms throughout my 42 years of riding from early trail riding to racing scrambles & motocross in the 70’s, basic street ripping, spending six years as a member in bad standing of an outlaw V-Twin gang and now back in the dirt in the form of Vintage Motocross. It’s
Me… fifty some motorcycles later.
Ok, those of you guys who wear the panties in your family and will go sleep on the couch on a barked order, it’s time for you to leave this article… Now.
Don’t get me wrong, I love women, stable, self-confident women. Women who have a life complete with passionate habits of their own. I’m all for supporting her and cheering her on while she enjoys all of her life activities. Teamwork and a healthy spirit of adventure Baby and we’re golden. What I can’t handle is a Fem who rags on me for doing what makes me happy and for what I love to do, even if it zones me out at times. I can’t stand being ‘talked
at’; ‘You’re obsessed with Motocross’, ‘All you ever do is….’, ‘You never….’, ‘You always….You-You-You’. Screw You. Feel free to talk with me all you like, I love good productive conversation. After all, I’m single and at age 49 I’m a responsible creative guy, have a good gig, pay my bills on time and maintain a home and property. I pretty much have deserved the right to dive into anything I damn well please. I am a calculated risk taker and I do so in my professional and personal life.
So far, so good, but lately I’ve been testing the skin of my teeth and wondering just what the hell the state of my cerebral ‘union-wanting’ actually is. Through these ‘like-minded’ Internet groups I know of guys in similar situations and I’m hearing it first hand at the races and other related events. Cohabitation and motorcycle racing seems to be a continuing hot topic with some of what I hear being down right misery. On the other hand I meet couples in this Vintage world that are just two peas in a can of pre-mix. I’ve met women( Hello Carol Moroz!) who are at every race taking great pride in supporting their man, helping with sorting out his gear, organizing paper work, taking photo’s, preparing food and then cheering him on from the fences. I’ve even seen one gal sitting on her guys’ next bike at the starting line when he had back-to-back Motos! I can only dream of that kind of attention and I bet most guys would bend over backwards for the Fem that would take him on in that way. And then there are the women who actually race! There are some very cool ladies out there, taking the Pomeroy or Lackey MX schools and cutting it all loose on race day. Ya gotta love them!
I do know this; you can never be responsible for someone else’s happiness….just your own. Be happy guys, we’re lucky to be racing at all. Welp, it’s wrenching nite here at McCookRacing. Hey George, pass me the 13mm. I’ll see the rest of you at the races.
Next Issue: ‘If we do what we did, then we get what we got’.