BEST OF JODY’S BOX: LOVELY LOUELLA & THE ART OF THE LAST WORD
By Jody Weisel
“Jody!” Said Lovely Louella with an angry tone when I came walking back from borrowing a tube from Jimmy Mac.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Give me the keys to the Jodymobile. I have to move it,” she said.
“Why? Is it blocking someone?” I asked with a look of concern.
“No,” she said. “I’m going to move it from the pits to the driveway at home. You can get a ride home with Jimmy Mac.”
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“Louella, Jimmy wants me to do lap times. Could I borrow your stopwatch?” said Jimmy Mac’s girlfriend Sheila.
“I don’t use a stopwatch to do Jody’s lap times,” said Louella.
“What do you use?” asked Sheila.
“On a good day a sun dial is adequate, but today I just brought a pocket calendar.”
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“Jody,” asked lovely Louella. “What happened in the last moto? You were missing for two laps.”
“I got caught up in a ten-bike pileup in the first turn and came in dead last,” I said.
“Well, I hope you do as least as well in the next moto,” said Louella.
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“Jody,” said Crazy Dave after the first moto. “I know a corner where you can save a second a lap.”
“That would be cool. Do you know what it would mean if I could knock a second off my corner times?” I asked in all seriousness.
“Yeah,” said Louella without looking up from her National Geographic. “You’d only be losing time on the straights.”
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“How did you do in the first moto,” said Louella while thumbing through the latest issue of National Geographic.
“Didn’t you watch my moto?” I asked dejectedly.
“No,” she said. “It was too dusty over by the fence.”
“In that case,” I said. “I won.”
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The newly wed wife of Monte Floyd sat down next to Louella in the pits and was asking for advice on how to be a moto wife, “Aren’t you ever afraid that Jody is goingto get hurt while racing,” she asked.
Louella looked at her, smiled briefly and said, “Not at the speed he does it.”
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“Boy, I hope I get a good start,” I said to luscious Louella before the start of my second moto.
“Why?” she asked without looking up from her National Geographic.
“So I can win!” I said with an air of confidence.
“What will that prove?” she asked.
“That I’m the fastest rider,” I said.
“In the world?” she asked.
“No, not exactly, but the fastest rider here,” I said.
“Here in California?” she asked.
“No, I mean here at Glen Helen,” I said.
“So, if you win today you’ll be the fastest rider at Glen Helen?” she said with a slight smile.
“In my class,” I said.
“Are there other classes?” she asked as though she didn’t already know the answer.
“Yes,” I said.
“How many?” she asked.
“Thirteen,” I said.
“Is everybody who wins his class the fastest rider at Glen Helen,” she said.
“No,” I said. “You are putting way too much emphasis on winning. I’m here to have fun.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of start you get, does it?” she said.
