BEST OF JODY’S BOX: DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF LUCKY SOCKS?

Most MXA test riders are a fickle lot. They switch gear, boots, goggles and gloves faster than Taylor Swift changes rockstar boyfriends for Hollywood actor boyfriends for tight end boyfriends.  You can’t blame them, it’s their job to test products and an endless parade of the latest-and-greatest gizmos is constantly dangled in front of their star-struck eyes. On any given Sunday they are decked out in brighter color combos than a rodeo clown. MXA doesn’t discourage this foppishness because the fashion grist mill serves a functional purpose. Test riders wear different gear and try different products with such regularity that they quickly develop a vast reservoir to knowledge about such mundane things as belt buckles, Kevlar knees, elastic cuffs, denier ratings, piping, sewing and trim. They may not be able to spell haberdashery, but they can recognize one brand of pants from another at 100 yards. They know more about clothes than any heterosexual male rightfully should.

I’m the exception to the MXA test rider rule. I have never been much of a fashion plate, I prefer to be comfortable. My boots don’t feel good until they are five years old. I like my pants to take a set. I believe that gloves work best after they’ve been through the rinse cycle 30 times. I’m on a first-name basis with my motocross socks (and it would throw off my balance to wear a different pair). I’ve raced in the same lucky underwear for the last four years (and I’m going to keep wearing the same pair until I get lucky). I’m so fixated on being comfy that when I find a T-shirt I like, I buy ten of them so that I never have to suffer the anxiety of a fashion change.

But, I share one fashion fixation with my MXA teammates—gear bags. We’re constantly on the prowl for the perfect gear bag. It’s not a superfluous obsession; motorcycle racers live out of their gear bags. That bag is our home-away-from-home for four days out of every week. It’s our only vestige of normalcy when we’re in Europe, Japan or Shreveport. The search for the perfect gear bag is no less important than other momentous choices in life: college, house, wife or tattoo.

“IF NASA KNEW AS MUCH ABOUT ROCKETS AS THE MXA WRECKING CREW DOES GEAR BAGS, WE’D BE RACING ON MARS BY NOW. THE LIFE SPAN OF AN MXA TEST RIDER’S GEAR BAG IS ABOUT THE SAME AS THAT OF A GYPSY MOTH. AND JUST LIKE MOTHS, WE ARE ATTRACTED TO THE BURNING LIGHT OF THE LATEST-AND-GREATEST NEW THING.” 

Luckily, the MXA test riders share the same taste in gear bags. Once one test rider zeroes in on the latest-and-greatest gear bag, the rest of the gang gloms onto that model. We share gear bag info (the farther back the wheels the easier the bag rolls), exchange set-up secrets (put heavier items on the end with wheels) and nit-pick the zippers with relish (big zippers work better when dirty, but small zippers go around corners easier). If NASA knew as much about rockets as the MXA wrecking crew does gear bags, we’d be racing on Mars by now. It’s not unusual for the complete gang to show up at Glen Helen’s REM race and unload six identical gear bags. When we find a winner, we embrace it whole hog.

The average rider may use the same gear bag for years, but the life span of an MXA test rider’s gear bag is about the same as that of a gypsy moth. And just like moths, we are attracted to the burning light of the latest-and-greatest new thing. I have been infatuated with, in no particular order, Thor’s Ultimate gear bag (big enough to carry your gear and bike), No Fear’s Stratos bag (the first one with wheels), Pro Circuit’s Works One bag (with the under-the-bag boot basement), Gaerne’s simple under-$30 bag (all bag, no compartments), One Industries wheeled gear bag (the one where both boots tuck in from one end) and, my current favorite, the Ogio Dozer.

MXA’s preoccupation with gear bags may not reflect the tastes of most motorcycle riders. We use our gear bags hard, put them away wet and expect them to be stocked with everything we need when testing in far-off lands. Perhaps the average consumer doesn’t care as much about the shape and size of compartments, but we obsess on them. Will they hold tear-offs (without folding them)? Is there a separate compartment for goggles (and will it house three pair)? How smooth do the wheels roll (it makes a difference when you have to get to the other side of Dallas International Airport in 20 minutes)? Does it have a fold-out mat for your feet (and is the mat padded)?

No two gear bags are created equal—not even when one manufacturer copies another, so it was with some embarrassment when I got back from a trip last Thursday and the airline, who shall remain nameless, lost my luggage. The United agent called the next day and said, “You’ll have to file a claim, because your bag might have been dropped over Mazur-el-Sharif by mistake.”

I was shattered. All my good, old, clothes were in that gear bag. Luckily, I had lots of  helmets, pants, gloves and goggles to wear. I could replace the stuff in three minutes (even better, I hadn’t thrown my previously used five-year-old boots away—so I wouldn’t even have to break them in during practice). But, I had given all my old gear bags away when I got the new Ogio gear bag and unfortunately  it was circling the globe in the baggage compartment of a 747 (along with a women from Newark’s poodle). I’d have to make-do.

The next morning I threw all of my gear into a cardboard box and headed to Glen Helen. I have to admit that I was a little embarrassed to show up with my clothes in a box from Wal-Mart. The gang made fun of me, so the next day I showed up sans-gear bag. I put by pants around my shoulders like a shawl, tucked my Mobius knee braces under my right arm with my jersey wrapped around the Velcro straps, shoved my goggles and gloves inside my helmet and held my Alpinestars Super Victory boots (with my socks inside them) with my left hand (you can do this with all-leather boots like the Super Victories, because they only weigh two and one-half pounds). Then, when the day was done I threw everything behind the front seat of the Jodymobile. and drove away. My only concern in life was for Princess…the poodle.