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Showing results for tags '65cc'.
So I'm one of the local tracks recently waiting for racing to begin. I'm trying to read up on proposed improvements to next years motocross bikes and my Wife is going on about something or another but I'm not quite sure what it was. I know I heard the words foreclosure and Sheriff and something about being forcibly removed, but I was distracted. Pulling into a nearby spot is an unbelievable race rig with a matching trailer in tow. Although I am at the track every week, I have not seen this particular cashhole before. I ponder the possibility that this is a current or retired famous pro rider traveling the country in secret to try out new tracks and surprise adoring fans. Is it Dungy? Charmichael? Villopoto? McGrath? After the air brake blew out the ear drums of some little kids playing in the sand nearby, out comes a man and woman with Factory KTM pit gear on. "Testing 1-2-3" one says into a headset with a microphone. Thumbs up from the other. Communication;Check. Little kids running around screaming holding their ears;Check. With the dramatic entrance complete, slide outs extended, and headsets working, its time to roll out the equipment. Many side stretched motocross eyes have fallen upon the developing pit site who's stewards are moving with the sense of purpose and authority of a Federal Hazmat team. Up go's the KTM tent and it looks like a factory mechanic is checking the spark plug gap on the power washer. Weird. These guys are serious. It looks like about a dozen people have gone into the trailer. Its starting to resemble one of those clown cars. I can hear the sound of an air compressor, tool chest draws shutting. As the bike rolls out, I feel the collective air come out of a hundred people. Its a 50cc KTM pisser! WTF! My testicles shrivel into a raisin in protest. Well OK, after a few wrinkles straightened, I decide to go with optimism, after all, a super talented mini rider is fun to watch. Maybe I can pick some brains and take in some knowledge for my own kids benefit. Moments before the first moto, I first lay my eyes on the center of all this commotion. I'll call him little Mikey Moto, 9 or 10 years old. As he surveys his kingdom and the commoners around the track, he looks like the type of kid who eats boogers and tortures animals for fun. With an air of indifference, he walks up to his mount which has already been warmed up for him by a KTM clad person who seemed unwilling to make eye contact with him. If this was his Father, he was not admitting to it. I was half expecting the kid to throw a sack of coins at the poor soul like they would in medieval times. There seemed to be some sort of problem with the clutch. After twice stalling the engine, the bike was flung on the ground and the kid started to kick dirt on it. With an obvious bike set up malfunction, the KTM team bound into action. A twist here and a wiggle there, and the problem seemed to be identified. A man who seemed to be in charge would continually stare at something on the bike while bringing his eyes closer, then further away. There seemed to be a consensus that whatever the problem, it was able to be fixed by staring at at intensely. Little Mikey Moto had calmed down and kept himself busy by scratching his name into the side of the RV with a rock while his KTM clad Mother said "Oh Don't" and walked away, presumably to make another highball. A quick wipe down of the bike and Mikey was off to the starting gate, this time with the help of a push so he could get used to the optical clutch adjustment. The intensity at the gate was palpable. Little Mikey stared down his opponents like ants he was getting ready to burn with a magnifying glass. I stood taking notes, not wanting to miss out on the chance to learn the highly sought after upper crust dirt techniques. He throttled that little 50 just like the pros do. It's go time and the starting gate sounds like a hive of angry killer bees flying at full speed ready to kill or be killed. The gate drops and all eyes are on the holeshot!! I'm not talking about the bikes, I'm referring to the parents running full speed from the gate, like a pack of wild hyenas, to the preferred viewing area, with Iphones and Ipads recording 15 inches from their face, while plowing down anything in their path. The winner of the 50cc parent holeshot went to a Tile Mechanic named Joe who was wearing a t shirt with his kids name and race number. He was able to win the holeshot while carrying a push broom, foot blocks, a camcorder, and an umbrella while simultaneously screaming GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! By the time he stopped, his temples had pounding veins protruding and bulging eyes that resembled a bulls immediately after castration. He almost ended up in second, but the other guy had to stop and take a couple of Nitroglycerin pills. God Bless them!! Anyway back to Mikey. After the standard 20 bike pile up in the first corner, I search the pack for our newest Factory KTM Phenom. I don't see him. I follow what looks likes long s in the track from the starting gate into a bale of hay, where Mikey is laying on the ground getting attended to by Medics. After some fuss, little Mikey finally got up to a rousing applause the likes of which I have not heard since 3am during Big & Tall night at the local strip club. Anyway, after an animated discussion with Mom, Mikey stomped off and away down the driveway to the track. The KTM crew was huddled around the bike in intense discussions about what went wrong and what changes could be made. I believe the final determination was that the addition of anodized valve stem caps was what threw off Mikeys balance. I made notes about this so that I would not make the same mistake. I decided to try to help the situation and asked the Mom if she wanted me to go after Mikey and bring him back. She replied that he had simply gone home. Seeing that I was puzzled she explained they only lived two houses down from the track.