mx775

As deep as my affection for motocross is, I do have one major hang-up with the sport: I don’t always like watching it. In fact, when I can’t ride myself, and there’s nothing to do but watch others ride, it can be downright torturous.

I realize that must sound sacrilegious, coming from someone who is a sort of motocross journalist. But I suppose that’s because I consider myself a rider, and when I’m watching others ride I don’t feel like a rider. I feel like a watcher, which, in my book, is an inferior feeling to feeling like a rider. I can tolerate--and even enjoy--watching when I know I’ll get my turn to ride too. But when I have no expectation of getting to ride myself, I’d much rather be entirely apart from the whole process (the exceptions to this are big-time Pro races, at which I can pretend like I’m learning some things.)

I was reminded of these facts when my clutch started slipping in practice at the last race at Mustang. When I felt it the first time, a sense of dread ran through me. I knew that if my clutch burned out completely, I would still have to stay and watch because I had agreed with the promoters to take photos and post a report on the race.

So, fearful of the boredom and angst I’d experience in a full evening of watching others race, I lined up for my first moto with my crippled bike, hoping that I was mistaken about the clutch and that everything would be fine. I was trying to play dumb. It didn’t work. After casing most of the jumps and looking like something of a squid, I finally crashed when I laid the bike into a rut and found that I didn't even have the thrust to stay upright. I called it a night.

Afterward, I was so disappointed that I just wandered the track with my camera, avoiding the pits so I wouldn’t have to explain to everyone why I wasn’t racing. Having to explain my situation again and again would just remind me of how I couldn’t ride each time I explained it. So I just went about my work, in flip-flops rather than boots, trying to focus on my shooting so I would forget that I should actually be riding.

Sometime during the night, it occurred to me how strange it is that a single race evening off the bike--even though I’ve participated in 20 years worth of races that were just the same--is enough to make me feel so apart from racing. When I’m at the races as a rider, I feel involved, tied to the excitement of everything. But when I’m turned into a spectator, I feel like just some guy who wandered onto the track with a camera, someone who really has nothing to do with the interesting stuff that’s going on. 

I was pretty glad when the night was over. As the dust settled over the track and the lights went dim, I felt a little more at ease, a little less like I was missing out on something. But I didn’t dwell on the feeling. Instead I just thought about how I needed some clutch plates...and maybe a back-up set too.