BEST OF JODY’S BOX: THE MOTOCROSS VERSION OF THE “MISSING MAN FORMATION”

By Jody Weisel

We are a tight-knit group at the races—with just a few loose ends. As a rule, we try to keep track of each other—not to the extent of asking questions about people’s personal lives, but in terms of their racing lives. So, when “Jumpin’ Jack” failed to show up at three races in a row, I asked Crazy Dave, “Where has Jack been?”

“I heard that he sold his KX450 and bought a used YZ250 two-stroke,” said Dave.

“No,” said Fred Phalange, who overheard the question, “a guy I know said he saw him driving down the freeway with a couple jet skis headed towards the river.”

“Are you guys talking about Jumpin’ Jack?” asked Jimmy Mac. “Monte Floyd said that he bought a new Honda CRF450 and crashed bad trying that uphill double at Three Rivers MX Park two weekends ago.”

“The jump that only people with a terminal illness ever try to jump?” I asked. “Has anyone checked on him?”

“You know who would know?” said Jimmy Mac. “Fred’s brother ‘Stumpy’ is good friends with Jack.”

I found Stumpy sitting on my ice chest. “Hey, ‘Stumpmaster,’ have you seen Jumpin’ Jack? We don’t know where he’s been, and I thought you might have seen him.”

“I never want to see that guy again,” said Stumpy in a flash of anger. “He sold me his new CRF450 for a good price last week. He told me he had only ridden it once, but when I took it to the track, the shock shaft was bent. He said “Bones” had agreed to fix it for free, but when I asked Bones about it, he said he hadn’t seen Jack in a month.”

“Bones,” I yelled as we neared the Pro Circuit box van. “We’ve been looking for Jumpin’ Jack; have you seen him?”

“To tell the truth,” said Bones, “I haven’t seen him since he showed up at the shop with a ratty YZ250 two-stroke that he wanted me to do the suspension on. If you find him, tell him to come by and pick it up. It’s been done for three weeks now.”

I ASSUMED THAT WE’D NEVER MENTION JACK’S NAME AGAIN. HE WOULD BE FORGOTTEN, AND THERE WOULD BE A NEW “JUMPIN’ JIM,” “JUMPIN’ JAKE” OR “JUMPIN’ JOHNNY” TO TAKE HIS NICKNAME AND HIS PLACE IN THE PITS.

Some guy I had never seen before interjected himself into the conversation and said, “I heard that Jumpin’ Jack’s girlfriend left him for some random 250 Intermediate, and he was too embarrassed to come out to the races.”

The whole gang showed a great deal of concern over the fate of Jumpin’ Jack. Was he hurt in a crash? Was he spending all of his time at the river on a jet ski? Was he heartbroken over losing his girlfriend to some dweeb Intermediate? We all wanted to help Jack in his hour of need, or, at the very least, make fun of his situation to his face. We are a very sympathetic and caring group of racing buddies. But, then practice started and we forgot all about Jumpin’ Jack. That’s the way of life in motocross racing. They come and they go. You spend every weekend for five years with a guy and then one day he doesn’t show up. Racers are used to the ebb and flow of friends at the track. I assumed that we’d never mention Jack’s name again. He would be forgotten, and there would be a new “Jumpin’ Jim,” “Jumpin’ Jake” or “Jumpin’ Johnny” to take his nickname and his place in the pits.

Then, surprise of surprises, when I went to the sign-up booth to correct a mistake I had made on my transponder number, I ran into Jumpin’ Jack in the flesh.

“Jack, am I glad to see you,” I said as I punched him in the shoulder. “I’ve been worried about you. Where have you been all this time?”

“I haven’t been anywhere,” he said. “I’ve been parking on the other side of the pits.”