Post by Kevin Cosby on Nov 22, 2008 14:51:52 GMT -5
As posted on the mxtracksideservices.com "In the Pits" page:
The perils of bring along a rider that is not a member of your family are numerous. But none so terrible as when the non family member rider takes a spill. This was my nightmare while attending the first round of the Mid-American Arena Cross Series race at 555 MX.
First, I would like to thank Terry Bass for allowing me to participate in the event as a flagger. This was actually quite relaxing and whenever my 16 year old came over to talk my ears off, I could tell him, “You’re not allowed to be here. Terry might get mad”. That worked, most of the time.
It never fails with teenagers! Every time you even mention the possibility of going somewhere, the first thing out of their mouths is, “Can so and so come with us?” Heck, wouldn’t matter if you said you were going to a toxic dump site. You would get, “That’s okay! He glows in the dark anyway.” I should have known better! While finalizing our plan to attend the race at 555MX with Momma, I was hit with, “Can Gooner go?” “Gooner Ryder?” I asked. “Does he still ride?” “Yeah! His bike just got back from the shop. He got new plastics, handle bars and everything”, I was informed.
Well, Gooner is a good kid and he hardly says anything. Shoot, he wouldn’t say “Dirt” if he had a mouth full of the stuff. Plus, most of the time he is asleep. “Sure, tell him we’re leaving Friday at three.” I must admit my real reason for saying yes is because I know my son can ride better than Gooner. Thus insuring there would be no last place finishes.
All went well on the trip down and setting up camp was easier with the added hands of the Goonster. Our good luck continued Saturday with both boys riding up to their abilities. My son took a 6th in the C class, despite going down three times in the second moto. Goon hung tough, but the 20 minute moto took its toll on him. I think he finished about 12th in the C class. Respectable for the amount of riding he does.
Sunday was a nightmare from the get go! Waking the boys up for sign ups and hustling them up to get ready for the practice run proofed to be a hassle. I take my flagging position and stand ready as the “Sentry of Safety”, protecting all who cross through my domain. The A riders run through their practice uneventfully and I await my boys, up next! As I stand there watching rider after rider pass by, I wonder, “Where are those guys? Bet they went back to sleep! I’m going to kill those knuckle… Oh wait, here they come”. They are looking good, too! “My boys!”, I proudly muttered. “Looking Good!”
Next up is the 65 class. Their off! But, they get stopped in the first turn. “What the heck?” I can’t figure out what’s going on until I see the ambulance hauling butt across the infield of the track. A quick scan of the pits and I locate my son. However, no Gooner in sight! “Great!” I shout as I throw down my flag and head over to where the ambulance stopped. As I come over the jump, I see it, Gooner’s bike laying next to the track! Then, I spy the EMT hovering over him. Panic set in, “Oh No! The little SOB killed himself” was my only thought. I rushed over and straddled Gooner as I supportively inquired, “Are you okay, Big Guy?”.
My inquiry was met with a blunt, “Neck and back trauma.,” from the overly eager EMT. “Are you his legal Guardian?”
I broke out into a cold sweat! “Well, he came with me. So, I guess so.”, I stammered. Then I noticed that Gooner was strapped to a back board. My voice rose to a pitch just below a squeal as shouted, “Are you taking him to the hospital?”
The EMT shot me a look of disbelief and answered, “Don’t you want him to? If we take him off this board and he stays here, you will need to sign a liability release”
I felt like reaching down and strangling Gooner myself. As I reluctantly agreed to let him be whisked off to the ER, I hear, “But, you realize that the race will shut down until we get back, don’t you?”
Great! Now the local motocross world is on my shoulders. So many questions had to be answered. “How far away is the hospital? How long will you be gone? Do you know how to get in touch with his mother? “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” was all I could come up with as I held the ambulance door opened as the loaded Gooner into the meat wagon. “Hurry back!”
Once again, I get that look from the EMT, “You will need to accompany us to the hospital, Sir!” I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just check out Gooner and then bring him back. What was I going to add to the diagnosis?
The remainder of my Sunday was full of the same stupid questioned over and over again. “What hurts? What happened? Who’s your insurance carrier?” I just want to get back and see my son race! Come on!
After all day of exams, x-rays and more exams, the doctors decided Gooner suffered a bruised back. “All this for a stinkin’ bruised back, d**n.” A little pain medication and rest and he would be back to crashing in no time flat.
Great, now we can get back to the race track. Only two things stopped us, now! The first thing we needed were some clothes. You see, right when he was wheeled into the ER room. A nurse, who must have been related to Jack the Ripper, cut off all of Gooner’s clothing. Everything except his socks! Gone was the $300 Fox gear, he purchased with his own money, gone were the Florida Gators National Championship T shirt and matching shorts. She even snipped away his Ricky Carmichael boxers! For most of the day, Gooner laid in the ER with nothing between him and the outside world but a thin cotton sheet. The second thing we needed was a ride. I climbed into the ambulance and didn’t think about getting back. A quick phone call and we were set.
Thanks to Misty Shunk for picking us up. You can never overestimate the kindness of the motocross community.
We arrived back at the track just in time. Just in time to see everyone leaving! We missed the whole race. I was ready to break Gooner’s back myself! But what could I do! We packed up and headed for the longest 4 hour trip back home.
Quite a weekend! Next time I will think long and hard before allowing another boy to go with us racing. Come to think of it, probably not! I enjoy getting kids involved with motocross racing and whatever I can do to get more racing, I will. Next time, if one gets hurt, he will be on his own though!
Remember, if you ain’t flyin’, you ain’t tryin’.
The perils of bring along a rider that is not a member of your family are numerous. But none so terrible as when the non family member rider takes a spill. This was my nightmare while attending the first round of the Mid-American Arena Cross Series race at 555 MX.
First, I would like to thank Terry Bass for allowing me to participate in the event as a flagger. This was actually quite relaxing and whenever my 16 year old came over to talk my ears off, I could tell him, “You’re not allowed to be here. Terry might get mad”. That worked, most of the time.
It never fails with teenagers! Every time you even mention the possibility of going somewhere, the first thing out of their mouths is, “Can so and so come with us?” Heck, wouldn’t matter if you said you were going to a toxic dump site. You would get, “That’s okay! He glows in the dark anyway.” I should have known better! While finalizing our plan to attend the race at 555MX with Momma, I was hit with, “Can Gooner go?” “Gooner Ryder?” I asked. “Does he still ride?” “Yeah! His bike just got back from the shop. He got new plastics, handle bars and everything”, I was informed.
Well, Gooner is a good kid and he hardly says anything. Shoot, he wouldn’t say “Dirt” if he had a mouth full of the stuff. Plus, most of the time he is asleep. “Sure, tell him we’re leaving Friday at three.” I must admit my real reason for saying yes is because I know my son can ride better than Gooner. Thus insuring there would be no last place finishes.
All went well on the trip down and setting up camp was easier with the added hands of the Goonster. Our good luck continued Saturday with both boys riding up to their abilities. My son took a 6th in the C class, despite going down three times in the second moto. Goon hung tough, but the 20 minute moto took its toll on him. I think he finished about 12th in the C class. Respectable for the amount of riding he does.
Sunday was a nightmare from the get go! Waking the boys up for sign ups and hustling them up to get ready for the practice run proofed to be a hassle. I take my flagging position and stand ready as the “Sentry of Safety”, protecting all who cross through my domain. The A riders run through their practice uneventfully and I await my boys, up next! As I stand there watching rider after rider pass by, I wonder, “Where are those guys? Bet they went back to sleep! I’m going to kill those knuckle… Oh wait, here they come”. They are looking good, too! “My boys!”, I proudly muttered. “Looking Good!”
Next up is the 65 class. Their off! But, they get stopped in the first turn. “What the heck?” I can’t figure out what’s going on until I see the ambulance hauling butt across the infield of the track. A quick scan of the pits and I locate my son. However, no Gooner in sight! “Great!” I shout as I throw down my flag and head over to where the ambulance stopped. As I come over the jump, I see it, Gooner’s bike laying next to the track! Then, I spy the EMT hovering over him. Panic set in, “Oh No! The little SOB killed himself” was my only thought. I rushed over and straddled Gooner as I supportively inquired, “Are you okay, Big Guy?”.
My inquiry was met with a blunt, “Neck and back trauma.,” from the overly eager EMT. “Are you his legal Guardian?”
I broke out into a cold sweat! “Well, he came with me. So, I guess so.”, I stammered. Then I noticed that Gooner was strapped to a back board. My voice rose to a pitch just below a squeal as shouted, “Are you taking him to the hospital?”
The EMT shot me a look of disbelief and answered, “Don’t you want him to? If we take him off this board and he stays here, you will need to sign a liability release”
I felt like reaching down and strangling Gooner myself. As I reluctantly agreed to let him be whisked off to the ER, I hear, “But, you realize that the race will shut down until we get back, don’t you?”
Great! Now the local motocross world is on my shoulders. So many questions had to be answered. “How far away is the hospital? How long will you be gone? Do you know how to get in touch with his mother? “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” was all I could come up with as I held the ambulance door opened as the loaded Gooner into the meat wagon. “Hurry back!”
Once again, I get that look from the EMT, “You will need to accompany us to the hospital, Sir!” I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just check out Gooner and then bring him back. What was I going to add to the diagnosis?
The remainder of my Sunday was full of the same stupid questioned over and over again. “What hurts? What happened? Who’s your insurance carrier?” I just want to get back and see my son race! Come on!
After all day of exams, x-rays and more exams, the doctors decided Gooner suffered a bruised back. “All this for a stinkin’ bruised back, d**n.” A little pain medication and rest and he would be back to crashing in no time flat.
Great, now we can get back to the race track. Only two things stopped us, now! The first thing we needed were some clothes. You see, right when he was wheeled into the ER room. A nurse, who must have been related to Jack the Ripper, cut off all of Gooner’s clothing. Everything except his socks! Gone was the $300 Fox gear, he purchased with his own money, gone were the Florida Gators National Championship T shirt and matching shorts. She even snipped away his Ricky Carmichael boxers! For most of the day, Gooner laid in the ER with nothing between him and the outside world but a thin cotton sheet. The second thing we needed was a ride. I climbed into the ambulance and didn’t think about getting back. A quick phone call and we were set.
Thanks to Misty Shunk for picking us up. You can never overestimate the kindness of the motocross community.
We arrived back at the track just in time. Just in time to see everyone leaving! We missed the whole race. I was ready to break Gooner’s back myself! But what could I do! We packed up and headed for the longest 4 hour trip back home.
Quite a weekend! Next time I will think long and hard before allowing another boy to go with us racing. Come to think of it, probably not! I enjoy getting kids involved with motocross racing and whatever I can do to get more racing, I will. Next time, if one gets hurt, he will be on his own though!
Remember, if you ain’t flyin’, you ain’t tryin’.