BEST OF JODY’S BOX: “MOTOCROSSERS ARE GOOD PEOPLE, BECAUSE THEY HAVE SHARED INTERESTS”

By Jody Weisel

“Do you know who is a really good guy?” asked Fred Phalange as we sat on the tailgate of the Jodymobile before practice on Sunday.

“Mr. Mother Teresa?” I asked.

“I’m serious,” snapped Fred. “The guy I’m talking about is always willing to help out. Two weeks ago I ran out of gas on the far straight and he walked back after the checkered flag and helped me push my bike.”

“Crazy Dave?” I guessed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. When I was stranded by the side of the track Dave stopped and roosted me,” said Fred.

“I give up,” I said. “Who’s a really good guy?”

“Jimmy Mac is a really good guy,” he said. “Last week when my water pump seal was leaking he let me ride his bike in my second moto. He is the only guy I know who will lend tools to a stranger. He gave a kid a spark plug last month and turned down the money that the kid offered. He told the kid to just do a favor for somebody else someday. He’s a good guy?”

“Are you two going together or something?” I asked  sarcastically.

“Don’t be stupid you moron! I was just making an observation,” said Fred. “And you don’t have to tell him what I said either.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t tell him that I stole a pack of tear-offs out of his gearbag at last week’s race,” I said.

DURING LOS ANGELES’ RODNEY KING RIOTS, THE MAN WHO CAME TO THE AID OF TRUCK DRIVER REGINALD DENNY WAS BLACK. WHEN ASKED WHY HE RISK HIS LIFE TO HELP A WHITE MAN, HE SAID, “HE WASN’T BLACK OR WHITE, HE WAS A FELLOW TRUCK DRIVER.”

Motocrossers are good people. They have shared interests, speak the same jargon and understand each others motivations. I have to admit that Jimmy Mac is the personification of goodness. Okay, maybe he is a little to goody-two-shoes for my tastes, but he truly likes motocross and motocrossers. Why? Because there is a bond between like-minded people that transcends race, religion, politics or social standing. During Los Angeles’ Rodney King riots, the man who came to the aid of truck driver Reginald Denny was black. When asked why he risk his life to help a white man, he said. “He wasn’t black or white, he was a fellow truck driver.”

As Fred and I sat there waiting for practice to start we noticed Jimmy Mac standing by the bed of his truck looking puzzled. It turns out that he had left his gear bag sitting in his driveway at home. It wasn’t until he had pulled into the track an hour later that he realized that he didn’t have his helmet, boots, leathers, gloves and goggles.

This kind of emergency happens every week at the races. I’m sure that you have shown up, at least once, without your boots, bike stand, helmet, chest protector, goggles or gear bag. When this happens, everyone in the pits immediately mobilizes to lend the hapless soul whatever spare gear they have. Sometimes it fits, sometimes it doesn’t. Most of the time the borrowed pieces don’t match, but looking like a goon ensures that you won’t forget your gear ever again.

Jimmy Mac was lucky. Fred still had his old boots behindthe seat of his truck. They were haggard, but the right size. Crazy Dave had an extra set of pants and jersey. Jimmy said he wore a 32, but he looked a little snug in Dave’s 34s. Monte Floyd told Jimmy Mac that he could wear his chest protector because they weren’t in the same race. Monte’s brother pitched in a pair of slightly used motocross socks. The promoter had a helmet that he was going to give away in a drawing at the rider’s meeting. He lent it to Jimmy. A guy that we never saw before offered up a set of shin guards (he said he had just bought knee braces the week before). And finally, Fred’s brother Stumpy gave Jimmy a new set of goggles. The whole Goodwill Drive had only taken about 15 minutes and Jimmy Mac was good to go.

“That’s what I love about the people at the races,” said Fred Phalange as he sat back down on the tailgate. “You have to admire the way everyone pitched in to help a rider in distress. And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. What did you lend him?”

“I gave him a pack of tear-offs,” I said.

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