Reach for the Sky

A headache and two Aspirins waited for me when I woke up - the ringing of our wake-up call had already roused me, but Travis saw fit to shake my shoulders just in case my open eyes meant nothing. Muttering curses under my breath, I pulled myself out of the messy bed and picked out my clothes for the day before I pushed Travis out from the stream of water in the shower so I could wash the chlorine out of my crunchy hair.

“You’re mean to me,” Travis pouted in the corner of the shower as I hogged the water, rubbing shampoo into the roots of my hair with practiced finesse. I turned to him, still scrubbing my scalp.

“Really? I am?” He raised an eyebrow at my mischievous grin, the other eyebrow followed when I reached to scrub his scalp in an extremely provocative manner. “I’m just so cruel,” Gently, I pulled his lips to mine as I stepped backward into the water, letting it rinse the suds out of my hair while I kissed him.

“Extremely.” I was surprised that he managed to talk between kisses, the water blasted right into his face (and apparently, Spaniards did not skimp on water pressure). While I had been gentle, Travis was rough, his forearm snaked around the small of my back and pulled me to him, our bodies meeting in one sinuous line of soapy water. As our tongues fought for dominance, I blindly reached for the conditioner.

“We have practice in an hour.” It was difficult to push him away so I could layer conditioner on the ends of my hair, and briefly we jostled for position under the water - I wanted to get away from it and he wanted to get nearer to it.

“But that means we have an hour to fool around,”

“You underestimate how long it’s going to take me to get ready.” I teased, laying a hand flat on his back for a moment before I let it fall. Freshly clean and dried, I brushed my teeth and plucked my eyebrows while Travis shaved beside me.

“But you multi-task so well, how long could it take you?” He asked as I spat out spent toothpaste into the sink, I managed to jab him in the stomach while I rinsed my mouth out.

“I have to multi-task, or we’d be here for days.” I plugged in my blow-dryer and dried just the top of my hair and my bangs, leaving the rest at the mercy of the elements in the favor of time. As I packed the thing away, I heard music from Jolene’s iPod pop on out in the pool area and smiled, then set about clothing my naked body. Without a mirror, I swiped a layer of mascara on my otherwise blond lashes, and finished tying my shoes.

“Ready?” Travis asked, as I simultaneously pulled my backpack on and layered chap stick on my lips before I stuck the tube into the pocket of my shorts and straightened, gear bag in hand.

“Let’s do this thing!” I laughed, and planted a kiss on his lips before we strode out of the hotel room and down the stairs into the main lobby. I turned over the engine on my black Suzuki and sped after Travis down the road, a gear bag balanced on my knees.

We made the practice just in time to have to sit through a few lectures about backstage etiquette (as if nobody here had ever raced before) and a speech on how the practice was to be run. I rolled my eyes as I sat in a folding chair in the glaring heat with a helmet, a gear bag and a backpack balanced on my lap. Travis sat beside me, making faces when the “instructor” had his back to us. Finally, we got the ok to get dressed - the lecturer pulled me aside and said that there was a special place for me to dress, but I declined the special treatment and dressed out in the sun with the guys.

I pulled off the t-shirt I had been wearing and fastened a second sports bra over the first before I pulled on the body-armor style chest protector I used only for competitions and a bright red jersey . I enlisted Travis’s help in strapping on my knee guards over the knee-high motocross socks I always wore. As he pulled the strange material as tight as it would go around my calf, I again multi-tasked and added the newest sponsor sticker to my helmet with great care.

“All done Sweet Cheeks,” A heavy gloved hand smacked me on the back as I pulled the motocross pants up over the knee guards (a labor, for sure) and stepped into boots as I tucked in my jersey. Gloves and helmet joined the stifling gear, and I became one of the first ones to survey the track.

Slowly, I idled around the great mound of dirt in the middle of the stadium and the assortment of metal ramps which led to it before I was nearly bowled over by a few of the boys - apparently, they wanted to see how quickly they could chop their own heads off. I made the executive decision to wait for the bull ring to clear before I began to consider the ramps and which order I should do them in and pulled off into the shade, leaning the bike on its kickstand.

“Kids,” I heard someone say nearby as I cut power to the engine.

“Oh, hey Jeremy.” I was one of the people who refused to call him Twitch - I wasn’t particularly fond of the nickname, which referred to the twitch he had from Tourettes syndrome. His bright blue Yamaha pulled alongside my custom black Suzuki, he thumped the back of my helmet, a traditional motocross greeting. “They’re going to hurt themselves before we even get to compete,” I laughed, watching as one of the riders nearly swapped his landing in order to avoid landing on someone’s head.

“It’s strange to see you on a dirt bike, you know,” I glanced over at him as I pulled off my helmet, letting damp hair fall around my shoulders.

“It’s strange to be on a dirt bike. I don’t think I ever would have tried this if Travis and I hadn’t finished RoManiacs.” Jeremy looked at me not in shock, just as if he were pleasantly surprised.

“So you and Pastrana, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?” He laughed as I rested my chin on my elbows, watching as Travis took Renner on the inside of an imaginary corner and shot over the metal ramp in front of the older rider. Jeremy and I sat in silence as we watched the boys tired themselves out and one by one began to find shade to sit in. “Want to pace it with me?” I asked, as I pulled my helmet back on.

We took off together, Twitch followed the line I picked around the track, and then I tracked behind him over the ramps and through the “chutes,” Pastrana trailed behind me and I followed his line after Jeremy turned off the track into the shade. After conveying my approval through a nod, I ran my line one last time, testing my knee and shoulder with a few simple tricks. I realized I was no longer the only person throwing tricks - the guys had all started to attempt to outdo one another, at which point I decided to bow out before I blew the game-winning tricks I held in reserve, or landed on someone‘s head in the limited space.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Travis pulled up next to me as I yanked my helmet off and threw my hair into a ponytail.

“I’m just trying not to burn myself out. And I think I need some stitches in my back, is there a medic hanging around?” Travis’s brows knit together as he pulled off his helmet, so as I pulled off my jersey, I clarified. “It’s just the cuts on my back.” He pulled his gloves off as I gingerly lifted the chest protector off.

“Oh man, Scottie. Come on,” I leaned my bike on the kickstand and sat down in front of Travis on his bike, leaning over the handlebars so as to not get blood all over his gear as he took me over to the ambulance.

“God I hate needles,” I breathed through clenched teeth, gripping one of Travis’s hands in both of mine as the medic expertly closed the long gashes on my back while chiding me about how I should take it easy and let them heal. It was all I could do not to laugh at the poor girl.

“So is there a motocross track around here somewhere?” Travis asked, as a few of the guys rode up to see what was going on.

“Actually there is one,” A native Spaniard told us about a nearby track, just outside of town.

“But I want to take my quad!” I protested like a child as Travis laid plans to go to the track ASAP.

“Your quad is pretty much useless,” He informed me. I frowned.

“Cam brought an air pump. I’m pretty handy with a wrench, it’s how I got the damned handlebars off to begin with,”

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Scottie. Pack up, let’s get back to the hotel.”

We gathered a good following to go down to the track, engines revved as I passed my bike off to Jolene (who had brought her gear in knowing there was a good chance she got to ride) and jumped in the minivan with Gregg, Cam and Andy. Godfrey filmed as I drove us out to the track, Pastrana and Jo in tow. Upon arrival, Travis, Jolene and the “followers” we had hit the track while I struggled with the handlebars and re-inflating the tires. After a few minutes, Cam capped the right front tire and slapped me on the back - I took off and joined the motocross fray as the boys and Jolene flew by , and began making passes.

“Dude, the only reason you’re so good is because we’re all fucking afraid of you! What happens to us when you land on us, or smash into us?”

“Oh shut up Renner, I could take you on a dirt bike any day.” This was followed by the usual hoots and hollers of “OH!” Ronnie Renner seemed to puff up like a threatened porcupine, hands on his waist.

“Follow through, Scottie, follow through!” Jolene hopped off my dirt bike, rolling it over to where Renner and I faced off, glaring down at one another.

“Scottie, he doesn’t ride track like I do, honey. This kid’s aggressive,” Travis pep-talked, holding my handlebars.

“I got this, Trav. Game on.” I grinned broadly as he thumped the top of my helmet and wished me luck before he limped off the track. Silently, Renner glared at me, revving his bike to the top of its power band as I smiled lightly and gave him a thumbs-up. The jersey in Jolene’s hand flew up, grabbing our attention, and as she flung it to the ground, we took off simultaneously.

Renner managed to cut me through the corner, but the technique I liked to use through whoops sections was most effective in speed, and so by the time we crashed our way through the second corner, I was in the lead. Like Travis, I knew he would try to jump over me on the table top, so I jumped as low and far as possible, knowing that the longer my tires were on the ground on the landing ramp, the more speed I would be able to gain. I nearly lost him as we rounded the first corner of the second lap, and took off with a second’s lead at least, but Renner took me on the third corner of the third lap, nearly knocked me over. In order to catch up, I tripled the whoops and jumped over his head, again maintaining a strong lead over the table top. By the fifth lap, I had caught Renner’s rhythm and managed to pin him behind my back fender - he could have reached out and grabbed it during the entire last lap.

A rough race. But I won.