SUPERCROSS

“Jeff had turned around and stopped, wondering if he was going to have to kickstart my lungs.”

Julien Beaumer

My wife and I are big Supercross motorcycle fans. We subscribe to the liberal-based NBC Peacock cable channel just so that we can tune in each Saturday evening. I wouldn’t go this route for the NFL or any other sport.

Joleen and I have even more reason to watch because a Lake Havasu City resident is racing and doing very well in the 250SX class. Number #23, Julien Beaumer is in the thick of things and our prayers are for him to stay healthy and finish out the season on top. This sport’s attrition rate seems higher than most, with riders often racing right to the ragged edge — if they want to win.

An Alaskan competed in the 250SX and 450SX classes for several years, with Ben LaMay related to a friend and former co-worker, Bill Yadlosky, from Eagle River, Alaska. Bill’s family grew up on Old Harbor Road in Anchorage less than a mile from where we lived. I knew Ben’s late father, Gene, and his grandfather, Clarence — both of them accomplished drag racers.

Ben LaMay, also known as “The Alaskan Assassin,” semi-retired from motorcycle racing, but now trains up-and-coming students of the sport at Thunder Valley Raceway in Palmer, Alaska. The forty-ninth state has turned out some great professional hockey players, and there’s no reason another Supercross prospect can’t be found to replace Ben.

Practicing in Alaska, unlike Arizona, can be a little rough though — with only so many nice rain-free days in summer. Traveling to the lower states for riding time is a necessity. The cost of such is substantial according to those having done it.

I owned several dirt bikes while growing up and enjoyed riding them with friends. The only time I gave racing a whirl was on a track at Kinkaid Park in South Anchorage. I was more into keeping my bike looking good rather than thrashing it as racers often do. The day that I decided to go for it, I’d put Armorall on the seat and the machine was looking fine, with a glimmering shine.

Riding slowly around the track a couple of times with my friend, Jeff Thimsen, just to get a feel for things, I eventually grabbed a handful of throttle and instantly went flying off the back of my Yamaha. Armorall turned out to be slicker than ice!

Only doing 40 miles per hour or less, the impact still knocked the wind out of my pipes for several seconds. Jeff had turned around and stopped, wondering if he was going to have to kickstart my lungs.

I decided then and there that racing dirt bikes wasn’t for me, although illegally street racing motorcycles was another thing. I kept riding dirt bikes, while our two children were in elementary school, eventually hanging it up — mainly because Jeff had sold his by then.

There was no longer anyone else to ride with so why go it alone. I took up bicycling once again finding it much safer, that is until a Toyota pickup hit me at a busy intersection.

The fellow’s truck fared far worse than me, suffering a broken window and a dented door. The bad thing was that I had to pay for all vehicle damage, including being fined $50, as the accident was deemed my fault.

For those folks who haven’t watched Supercross, check it out. This week the races are in Phoenix. The action is nonstop and the crashes way too many. I don’t know how these guys can continually control a fast-moving bike going over whoop-de-dos and continually flying through the air, some as high as 35 feet. One thing that I do know is that they don’t use Armorall on their seats.

Wanting to keep another dirt bike, my wife has told me, “No!” more than once. She doesn’t believe many older guys ride them. That was proved wrong in Bouse after I met a guy named Dave from California.

I’d guess Dave was in his 60s, and he had the coolest dirt bike, a two-stroke I believe manufactured in Germany. I can’t remember the brand. He wore a tee shirt his granddaughter gave him, saying, “Some Grandpa’s Play Bingo — Real Grandpas Ride Dirt Bikes.”

Showing Joleen, Dave’s bike and his cool shirt, saying that I’d like one of each, her response was immediate and ego-deflating. “I don’t think you can even handle the shirt at this point!”

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Author: michaeldexterhankins

ordinary average guy

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