Family Scrambles

Since the season ended a month ago, I have been enjoying some much-needed downtime at home in Michigan. A couple of weeks ago I agreed to go to a hare scramble with my older brother. The race was over four hours away and none of his friends could go with him, and I didn’t want to make him go by himself. It killed me not racing myself, but for all the times my brother has gone to nationals just to watch me race, I figured I should return the favor.

After getting up at 6:00 a.m. (way too early during the off-season) and driving for what seemed like forever, we finally got to the track. And let me tell you, it looked like so much fun! I was quickly regretting my role as supporter and wished I would have loaded up my bike as well. I mean, honestly, I can’t fix his bike if it breaks, and he has one of those lame big tanks, so I could support him just as much on the track as off of it. All he needed me there for was to drive him home—after two hours on the bike, four hours behind the wheel is the last thing you want.

Before I tell you about the race, I just want to say I just don’t see how all of you sisters and girlfriends out there can go to a track just to watch. Watching is so boring! I fully support my brother and want to see him do well, but I know at the same time if he had the opportunity to race instead of just sitting there and watching, he would. That’s the problem—it is still acceptable for a woman to go and be supportive of a man but not the other way around. Let's put it this way: any time a guy gets an award and has to go to an awards ceremony, girls are so excited to get dressed up to go with them. However, whenever I had an awards ceremony to go to, I had to ask either my parents or female friends because guys always complained that banquets are too long and boring and simply not worth it if they are not the ones getting recognized. It’s completely unfair. I feel support should go both ways. But I also don’t think there is any reason for girls to go to the track and sit around bored out of their minds anymore. Take a closer look at the faces underneath those helmets and you will see racing isn’t just for men anymore. Get out there and join them!

Anyway, back to the race. I decided if I had to be cheerleader for the day, I would be the best damn cheerleader there! (I just can’t do average). I found a spot on the motocross section where I could see almost the whole thing, and if I ran, I could cheer him on in three different spots when he went by. Then, when he went into the woods I found a tree to climb, and I could hang out of it and be head-level with him to scream when he went by. Then I could just walk a little further into the woods and watch him in the endurocross section. It was really hard for me to watch my brother, who crossed over from motocross this year, race a hare scramble. Besides the two spots in the woods, I could barely see him. All I ever saw was the motocross part where his competition rode around with their elbows to their knees and tiptoed through all of the corners. Meanwhile, my brother was doing all the jumps and railing every berm—there was just no comparison. I just couldn’t believe that these guys were beating him! It’s obvious they have way more experience riding in the woods than my brother does.

At one point he was in fourth, reeling in second and third, but then he stalled a couple of times and ended up fifth. Not too bad considering his almost-dead-last start, along with his cornering skills his holeshot skills (or shall I say lack thereof), also carried over from motocross. Only it’s a lot harder to pass in one-line trails through the woods than on an actual track. I took this picture of Terry in the endurocross section, and no, he wasn’t going really fast. It’s just the poor quality of my camera phone that makes it so blurry.

So even though my cheering and support didn’t do him any good two weeks ago, my dad must have helped him yesterday. The last race of the series was on a course that was mostly motocross with very little woods, and he won it by almost two minutes! You can tell where his roots are. So good job, Terry! You can bet the next hares cramble I go to with you, I will be cheering you on from my helmet and not a tree. Unless, of course, I end up in one after crashing into it.