Now that I've gotten everyone pumped up ...
My awesome Aunt & Uncle were in town for the NHRA drag races. I went to visit with them on Friday and they just happened to have an extra ticket to Saturday's race and would I like to go with them? HELL TA THE YEA! I will totally sacrifice sleep, spend all day in the hot "fall" weather, sun blaring down, sweating my non-existent balls off, to spectate in one of my most favorite past times ... DRAG RACING!
Kane and I spent our first years together doing one of 2 things; riding, or hanging out at the drag strips. For a brief time, he was the rider for our friend's drag bike. Such a sick bike that was wicked fast. Of course, this was in the days before good cell phone cameras or fancy-shmancy digital cameras a college student could afford, so I'll spare everyone the play-by-play photo shoot, rather I will share one pic (and I must apologize for its quality) that holds a special place in my heart. Oh the memories it triggers! [spares audience the singing of said song from Cats].
What an awesome chance for Kane to ride the sickest drag bike this side of the Mississippi. He had all the qualifications: he knew how to ride, he was only 120 lbs. soaking wet, did everything 110%, and Wuss - the bike's owner - trusted him. Kane even nick named the racing team "Stick Figure Racing". At first he was uneasy about being the rider of the drag bike. He had taken his 600r on the strip a few times, but his little 600r was no comparison to this bike. I mean we're talking single digits in the quarter mile here people! - or so I was told.
Set the Way Back Machine to Dec. 2003, right before Christmas: I remember us pulling into the parking lot of the drag strip and him saying, "What if I break it? Wuss'll KILL me!!" Being the devoted, and supportive girlfriend I was - and totally thinking you are SO going to do this because 1.) the bragging rights I'll have that yea, my boyfriend's the rider, and 2.) let's not forget instant, free pit passes! - I put my hands on his cheeks, looked deep into his beautiful hazel-green eyes and said, "Honey, if Wuss didn't think you could do it, he never would have offered you the opportunity. Plus, we're here now so shit or get off the pot."
I was standing near the starting line, my disposable camera in hand, playing shutter bug at each stage. Pep talk before the burn out, pep talk at the starting line, Kane's insistence on running pro tree set up, the sound of the engine, the smell of race gas, the burning rubber, and then he was off. All these years later, I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins triggered by the sights, sounds, and smells; I can only imagine what he was felling. Then I saw it ... the bike was almost at 1/2 track, and was no longer on both wheels. The front tire came up faster then I could blink, and there was Kane, riding a wheely on this monster of a machine. I didn't have time to panic cuz as fast as that front wheel went up, it was back down, hooked up again, as if the tire never lost contact. The horrible crashing noise that followed, and smoke pouring out from under the bike, had me wondering what the fuck just happened? I saw the time and MPH flash on the board, so I knew he made it to the end, and yea, the bike was still on the track, both wheels down (like they should be). My first thought, OMG! The bike!?!?! And, what in the hell was that noise?? Pfff! I know what you're thinking. 'Screw the bike!!! What about your boyfriend???' I knew Kane was fine: he was still on the bike, it was moving, and there were no flames shooting out the side. He's good.
As we met Kane at the pre-staging area, I remember his head hung low in shame, shaking it side to side, as if scolding himself for being bad, a look of terror on his face. As he rode up to Wuss. I could hear him saying "I'm sorry" over and over. Wuss had the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face. WTF?? As I got closer, I saw what Kane was "sorry" about, and why Wuss was smiling. Oil.leaking.everywhere. But the bike (and rider) were intact.
Apparently, when he brought the wheely down, the impact of the front wheel hitting asphalt again caused the oil pan to hit the track thus cracking it. That's where the horrible cracking noise and smoke billowing out of the bike came from. Wuss was smiling because Kane did exactly what he was supposed to do: control the bike, keep it on the strip, and keep the rider safe.
I gave Kane a huge hug & kiss and told him how proud I was of him. "You did it, baby!! You did it!!" The twinkle in his eye from my delight was the only reassurance I needed that, although shaken up - and terribly sorry for the borked oil pan - he was ok.
That night I posted on our sport bike forum a little poem I had written about the incident, à la White Zombie:
"Grips the throttle, his knuckles turn white with desire. The oil pan of the 'Busa exploding on the drag way like a slug from a 45. True death, 400 horse power of maximum performance piercing the track. This is Black Sunshine"
Unfortunately, the bike needed work after Kane's run, and Kane's *ahem* thinking he was young and invincible a few weeks later (and the broken wrist that was a result of said thinking) ended his drag racing "career". We made our cameos at other drag strips. Oh the sights, smells, and excitement! It wasn't the same as Kane actually riding, but it was still fun. Kane was moral support for Wuss, learning and watching, and I played with the adorable puppy Wuss & his wife brought with them. Being at the drag strip this weekend brought back all those wonderful memories and good times. Of my amazing husband, pursuing a passion, in his element, living life as if it were his last day on earth.
So, when life hands you an opportunity - no matter how scarry it seems - suit up, do a burn out, keep it on the track, and never lose control.
This pic was taken right before he took the run discussed above
Awesome! Gave me goosebumps!
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