A Girl's Motocross Tragedy

A Girl’s Motocross Tragedy

Brap! I heard as we were pulling up the steep hill to the track. “Oh no, practice already started,” my dad said to me.

“Should I do late comers’ practice?” I asked him.

“Its up to you, you’ve been around this track a million times,” my dad said. He never wanted me to do late comers’ practice because there were so many riders on the track at once and he didn’t think it was safe.

It was a warm Friday night at Malvern and the track was perfect. You never wanted to be late on days like this because it was always the busiest and you would have to park in the back. And since we came late, we had to park in the back. “Can you sign me up? I will unload the bike,” I said. My gear and bike weren’t the nicest but it didn’t really matter to me. I would always say It’s not the bike, it’s the rider. I guess you could call it my motto.

I decided to do late comers’ practice and headed up to the line on my 250f Yamaha with pink numbers. My bike roared when I started it. My back fender was about to fall off from a crash I had earlier this season, and my number plates were ready to fall off from bumping into riders in the hole shot. My grips weren’t really grips anymore, and I only had half of a break lever. My bike was a little big bike. My suspension was set soft to make the bike shorter than most 250’s but it was still too tall for me to touch. But my dad didn’t have the money right now to fix my bike, since he was paying my mom all kinds of money since the divorce went through.

Late comers’ practice was shorter than a midget. It’s only one lap long but I really needed the practice because I hadn’t been to Malvern a lot lately, and my biggest competition in 250c class was here. There was a lot of riders in the practice but coming off the track in front of Dakota was a good feeling. People always stared at me, knowing I could beat them. For some reason guys don’t like getting beat by a girl. Most people think girls aren’t as good as guys at racing.

When I got back to my pit I took off my helmet, jersey, and gloves and put on a t-shirt because it was too hot to be wearing all my gear. I pulled a chair out of the trailer and sat down next to my dad. “Rider’s meeting, Rider’s meeting at sign up,” I heard over the announcements. “You should go and find out what motos you are in,” my dad said to me.

“Check the chain, it seems loose,” I said before I walked to the sign up building for the riders’ meeting. I hadn’t been to a riders’ meeting in a long time. I usually don’t go to them but I was nervous and wanted to get my mind off the race for a little while.

After I figured out what motos I was in and how many people I was racing against, I went back to my trailer to sit and talk with my dad. “What motos are you Justine?” This was the first thing my dad asked me, while he was still sitting in his chair.

“I’m motos 11 and 15.”

“Quads are first?” he asked.

I nodded, then he asked me how many people I was racing against. There were 15 riders in 250c class and 9 riders in School Boy. I was happy with the turn out. I knew he didn’t check my chain because he was still sitting in his chair but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make him mad by asking him twice.

As usual my dad went off with his friends. The track was a big social event for most people. Most of my dad’s friends were dads of my competition and fast riders. At the track everybody knew everybody for the most part. Then I heard the first moto leave the line. It was quads and I didn’t want to watch them.

As my moto was approaching, I started to get my gear on. I was getting more nervous as time passed. But when I got up to the line I was pumped. There were tons of people watching around the trackside, probably sponsors too, because tonight was a big race.