Racy One: How a dream is born.

Bouncing around various blogs, forums and personal web sites I realized something which actually quite surprised me; however, it shouldn’t have, if I had used my brain a little, that is. What in the world is she going on about now? I’m glad you’ve asked.

There are a lot of dream chasers out there. People, young and old, from different walks of life, all over the world, who just put it out there. Their dream and their journey going after it. For various reasons, some of which are based in accountability, motivational and inspirational reasons, or maybe just to visualize and focus on their goals. They succeed. They fail. They all have one thing in common: they do something about it; and no matter the degree of their eventual success or failure, they can all stand tall in the end and say: “I did it.”

I have a dream, too. I had one last night and it involved Mr. Slow dressed in a way-too-tight leather onsie doing the… oh never mind, wrong dream…

Rewind. Flashback. An unspecified time, but not too long past, in a woman’s life whose nickname was not yet Miss Busa.

A Twist of the Wrist (front cover)

"A Twist of the Wrist - The Motorcycle Road Racers Handbook" by Keith Code

She is sitting at her desk at work, feet propped up on the edge of the desktop, leaned back in her old, but comfy and broken in by plenty of assage over the years, office chair. She’s tilted back, balancing precariously on two of the five rollers, rocking slowly back and forth, completely absorbed in a book she is reading. The title of the literature? “A Twist of the Wrist” by Keith Code. (At this time) she can’t relate to most of the exercises but does them anyway in adapted form. She answers the questions Mr. Code is asking of the reader in the margins. She really digs the author. This guy makes you think for yourself. He doesn’t just spoon-feed the reader information and demand that they swallow and digest. Perfect for a girl who has never been much on following blindly nor believing everything she’s told and be satisfied with “trust me on this, I’m an expert”. She wants the reasons, she wants the underlying science, the root cause, the Why and the How. Rote memorization doesn’t work for her, but understanding cause and effect definitely does. If she understands, she remembers.

Motorcycling is like that for her. Application of skill gained by knowledge (and the understanding of the physics behind it), and with that comes total control. Everything happens for a reason, there are no surprises and all is under her control. Cause and effect. Simple. Linear. Straightforward, no exceptions. Logical. Maybe that is why she latched onto the sport so strongly and her initial skill progression happened at a considerably accelerated pace. She has been told that she understands the subject matter better than most. She had replied with a self-doubt inspired, but convinced “Yaright! Whatever. You’re full of it.” However, secretly she enjoyed the compliment and it seemed to validate her in some not-so-minor way. The catalyst for the confidence boost the girl needed to take the next step, and the step after.

A notion quietly undergoes a transformation, becomes an impression and finally solidifies her desire, as she reads faithfully through the pages of Code’s book. She wants to race! She has a competitive nature despite her shyness, so this also shouldn’t come as a surprise. It is what we call a natural progression. She has no clue what is involved or where to even get started. All she knows is that she wants to do it. Naive, but powerful. Driven.

Until she gets to Code’s last chapter. The chapter on sponsorship and the business backend of racing. After digesting the information presented, she loudly exclaims to no one in particular, to an empty room: “Screw all that! I just wanna ride.” Running around selling yourself to the people who can buy you a set of tires or whatnot severely (and annoyingly) cuts into time better spent practicing and honing one’s craft. “I’m too shy for this anyway.”

And with that she forgets all about racing… for a little while.

2 Comments on “Racy One: How a dream is born.”

  1. MsXXFast says:

    Lmao! You sound like a lot of racers I know lol.  However, rare is the racer that doesn’t have to bring some sort of sponsorship green to the team in order to ride.  It’s either who you know, how much money you can bring to the table, or if you’re young and your rate of progression is off the chart.  It doesn’t hurt to actually be likeable either.  But Mladin has disproven that lol. 

    I know a lot of racers who ‘just wanna ride” and unfortunately speed costs money–even when they’re already fast.  No money, no racey.  And in a shitty economy, the average racer (and I don’t mean average as in skills) usually has to compromise or jump through hoops as so not to jump from seat to seat all season.  There are more racers than rides, even less that are actually *paid* rides. Honestly the younger the better. With a younger racer, the learning curve is still in on upswing and are a safer bet.  They also usually haven’t been hurt yet and feel invincible. A lot of racing is psychological, you know that. If they’re outgoing, attractive, charismatIc and fast.  All the better. Younger racers are also more apt to ride for less. They usually don’t have child support, alimony, divorce atty fees, and mortgages to pay.  And they are in the I just want to race phase and not used to being flown in and paid a ton o cash just to test like “the old days”. Also, with past champions, they are expected to do really well no matter what.  With wild cards, when they do well it’s exciting, when they don’t, it’s not expected.  With past champions, if they don’t do well then it must be the team, or they’re getting old, etc. A month ago, I witnessed two riders who were better get passed up for a  lesser rider because the money that was brought to the table. 

    If there’s no money, there’s no new rubber, if there’s no new rubber, then making the front of the grid is difficult, and even if you’re top level you can’t make it back into the hunt on a slow bike with shitty parts and  no crew.  

    I want to race too but I’m afraid to fail so it keeps me from trying. I need to realize that it isn’t failing if you learn from it. Odds are I’ll be DFL for a while, and that’s okay.  I can’t even tell you WHY I want to race. I can’t explain it.  It’s like seeing wild horses running and all you can do is dream of running with them. But the reality is it’s hard fucking work. And there will be disappointments. And even if you podium often, injuries happen. In the end, when you roll the dice, what will you have when the fans go home?  Don’t ever stop having fun when you’re out there. 

    I’m rambling, lol. Charge on!!

    • MissBusa says:

      I could do with a hell of a lot less reality, thank you very much. *falls off her chair laughing, but manages to save her beer*

      All VERY valid points. So, Plan B of sleeping my way to the top (I mean front) is off the table then, eh? *spills her beer* [Inside AMA Pro joke, which reminds me….]

      Seriously, I don’t freaking know either why I want to race. I have thought about it a lot, especially during the times when my resolve lies dying amidst (racing-related) financial woes and logistical problems). I know it’s not that I want to make money at it (even though breaking even would be nice, so at least I wouldn’t have all these performance-related expenses that make the truck payment late on occasion LOL). It’s not the Rockstar Syndrome thing either (I hate being the center of attention). Maybe you’ve nailed it with the wild horses analogy. You watch and you want to be a part of that, because somewhere down deep inside the vision stirs and awakens something in your soul and it makes you happy. At that moment nothing matters and you are on top of the world (even if your lap times are the suck, you’ve done got lapped and your rear tire is about to toss its traction coefficient.) As long as you are at the top of your own game and improving… at least that’s how it is for me. You would think a track day or two every so often would do it, huh? So why the hell doesn’t it?!?

      DFL is better than DNF unless you get lapped… getting lapped is just well… it’s just not…no. That’s the ultimate in embarrassment… I wouldn’t even wanna use pit road to come in, I’d take a shortcut through the grass and out the back gate somebody left open opposite T3 😉 …then sneak to my truck and leave quietly, never to be seen at that particular venue again, until I change bikes and wear my other set of leathers. *giggles*

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