BEST OF JODY’S BOX: A FEW UNIVERSAL TRAITS AND LOTS OF PERSONAL PECCADILLOES

By Jody Weisel

I’m just like you. I may be slower, faster, fatter, thinner, taller or limp on the left instead of the right, but if you race motocross you are just like me. Okay, maybe not. It turns out that I have a few universal traits and lots of personal peccadilloes. Here is my list — compare it to yours.

The hardest part of every race day is buckling my boots. I don’t remember this being a problem when boots had seven straps (and I had black hair), but with a few extra years under my belt the buckles seem to be getting farther away from me. A successful day at the track is when I don’t pull a muscle in my back trying to get that bottom buckle closed. I have friends who carry a rubber mallet to get their buckles snapped — I don’t know what they do to get them to open. A bigger hammer?

I wear old-school leather boots (and the guy I race against every week. Lars Larsson, wear them too—see photo above). Why? Because they weigh three pounds less per boot than modern boots. When my foot bounces off of a berm or a rock, I don’t want five pounds of plastic going in the opposite direction that my knee is traveling.

When I get new boots, I wear the new right boot with my old left boot for two weeks before wearing the new left boot. Why? That way I am only breaking in one new boot instead of floundering around with two super-stiff new boots.

TO ME, PUTTING KNEES BRACES ON IS LIKE PUTTING DUCT TAPE AROUND A JAR OF OLIVES. IT DOESN’T PROTECT THE OLIVES FROM DAMAGE, BUT STOPS THE GLASS FROM GETTING SCRATCHED. THE OLIVES ARE MY KNEES AND THE GLASS IS MY PSYCHE. I WEAR KNEE BRACES TO PROTECT MY MIND, NOT MY KNEES.

I wear knee braces because I have bad knees. I don’t believe that knee braces would have actually protected my knees from the injury that wrecked my medial collateral ligament in the first place. There is no way that a slab of carbon fiber is going to keep my foot from going left, while my body goes right. To me, putting knees braces on is like putting duct tape around a jar of olives. It doesn’t protect the olives from damage, but stops the glass from getting scratched. The olives are my knees and the glass is my psyche. I wear knee braces to protect my mind, not my knees.

I cross the two bottom straps on my knee braces to stop them from sliding down.

I never pull a tearoff…at least not during a race. However, when I fish last week’s goggles out of my gear bag the next weekend, I always pull off the dirty tearoff so that I can start the day with a clear view.

I don’t like laminated tearoffs. They make a funny noise when you pull them and they leave a sticky residue on the tearoff under the one you pulled. Of course, since I only use one tearoff a week I can afford to take the time to install individual tearoffs. But, I must admit that the like the names of some of the new generation goggle lens, especially Amber After shock

I prefer clear lens. I want to see what I’m going to hit. Not necessarily avoid it — but see it coming. But, I do like the names of some of the latest generation lenses—especially EKS Brand’s Lucid Auburn Afterburner lens.

I don’t eat anything on race day. It upsets my stomach. I certainly don’t drink Monster, Rockstar or Red Bull — ever. I tried Gatorade at a race once, but didn’t like how it looked on the inside of my helmet by mid-moto.

I check my bike’s spokes with the “ping test.” I spin the wheel and let the spoke wrench bounce off of each spoke. I listen to the pinging and when I hear a sour note I tighten that spoke. It would be possible to skip the complete process because it is always the spoke next to the rim lock that is a B-flat.

I try to get to the starting line as late as possible. I’m willing to take the worst gate pick not to have to sit on the line fiddling with my clutch, hanging my goggles on my handlebars, bouncing up and down on the seat, holding my goggle strap with my thumb to keep the lens from fogging and incessently yawning.

I SET THE PACE I’M COMFORTABLE WITH AND TRY TO MAINTAIN IT, BUT IF ONE OF MY FRIENDS PASSES ME THEN I CHANNEL MY INNER CHARLES MANSON IN AN ATTEMPT TO PASS HIM BACK. STRANGERS CAN GO ON THEIR MERRY WAY.

As I get older I’m not as intense as when I was younger. I set the pace I’m comfortable with and try to maintain it. There are only three things that will make me go faster. First, if one of my friends passes me then I channel my inner Charles Manson in an attempt to pass him back. Strangers can go on their merry way. Second, if somebody cuts me off I throw caution to the wind in an effort to return the favor. Third, if Lovely Louella comes to the races to watch, I pick up the pace…although typically when I come in from a moto she asks, “When is your race?”

I love racing. I count the days from race to race. And when the race is over I can’t believe that I have to wait seven days to do it again. I’m miserable when there is no race to go to. I loved SoCal in the 1970s because it was possible to race five days a week, actually three nights and two days. I was only miserable two days a week back then.

When I was a surfer. I always wondered how my surfing buddies could just quit surfing and walk away from the sport. Then one day, I quit surfing. When my surfing buddies ask me why I quit, I told them that I had to choose between surfing and motorcycle racing and motorcycle racing won. All these years later, I think I made the right decision and I don’t plan to walk away until I need a walker.

 

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