Feel crummy for not riding the GP.
2:00 p.m. Pick up my kid from
my wife’s office, where she works
every weekend, and take him to
Mom and Dad’s place. Listen to
Mom talk about knife-wielding
8: 30 a.m.–6: 30 p.m. Go to office.
Spend day in meetings, writing stories and singing songs.
8: 30 a.m. Arrive at Competitive
Edge Raceway for 2014 Kawasaki
KX250F introduction. Listen to an
incredibly detailed tech briefing
about motor mounts, which are 29
percent thinner. Act fascinated.
10:00 a.m.–1: 30 p.m. Ride the
new KX back to back with the old
one. Decide that there might be
something to all that talk about
motor mounts. Decide my ribs still
hurt. Wonder if I should go back to the doctor.
2: 30 p.m. Make apologies, leave the Kawasaki thing
early so I can go to Glen Helen and start preparations for
the John Burr 10-Hour, another race I am helping organize.
Start setting up the course.
8: 30 a.m. Arrive at Competitive Edge Raceway for the
2014 Kawasaki KX450F introduction. Listen to an incredibly
detailed tech briefing about the grips, which are new. Act
10:00 a.m.–1: 30 p.m. Ride the new KX. Take a max dose
of Tylenol mixed with a max dose of Aleve.
2: 30 p.m. Go back to Glen Helen to start putting up markings for the 10-Hour.
5:00 p.m. Realize that pounding stakes and stapling up
course markings are actually just as painful as riding when
you have bruised ribs.
8: 30 a.m.–12: 30 p.m. Go to office to proofread Dirt
Wheels magazine, which is on deadline.
2:00 p.m. Go to Glen Helen to put finishing touches on
10-Hour course, which is to start the next morning.
5:00 p.m. Pick up kid. Visit Mom and Dad. Hear about
Pygmies riding zebras.
10:00 p.m. Write column about a typical week. Realize
that I have the schedule of a lunatic. Vow to never put it in
writing again. o
There are people who insist that careful planning is the key. They
think that if you put the whole week in
writing, with times, schedules, meetings and appointments, everything will
run as smoothly as possible.
Nonsense. I live like a trapeze act,
flying from one end of the Big Top to
the other, with absolutely no idea what
I’m doing. So far, it works perfectly.
I’m not saying that planning has no
value. I generally don’t let go of one
trapeze until I see another, with Mark
or Tom waiting to grab my heels. But if
I tried to work it all out ahead of time,
it wouldn’t work. I have proof. Instead
of scheduling the week out ahead of
time, I just tried to put the last week in
my day planner. Here’s how it looked.
9:00 a.m.–12:00 p.m. Meet the KTM
guys at Racetown. Return two bikes,
pick up another. Ride in blistering heat
on a completely cool 2014 KTM 350SX.
12:01 p.m. Do one last lap so Mark
can put my picture on Instagram.
Crash my brains out. Sit on the track
with a partially collapsed lung, taking bunny breaths from
12:02 to 12:04. Decide to go see a doctor.
3:00 p.m. Pick up my 9-year-old kid from school.
5:00 p.m. Go to doctor; get lectured.
7:00 p.m. Visit Mom and Dad in the convalescent home.
Listen to Mom talk about the apeman and the woolly mammoth in the room next door. Check on her medication.
6:00 a.m. Arrive at Glen Helen for the third annual Last
Dog Standing, claiming that I would ride if not for my
bruised ribs. Suffer through skepticism and ridicule. Give my
kid the iPad, leave him in the score tower, and let him play
all the games he wants for the next 10 hours, understanding
that he might have severe video-game poisoning afterward.
8:00 a.m.–5: 30 p.m. Climb around in poison oak to shoot
photos of the Last Dog Standing. Forget to eat or drink.
6:00 p.m. Wait until the last bike is off the course before
starting to put up new markings for the next day’s Gary
Jones GP, a race I was helping organize.
9: 30 p.m. Suddenly remember my kid is still in the tower.
Shake him out of a video-game-induced coma. Feed him;
5: 30 a.m. Arrive at Glen Helen. Finish putting up markings for the Gary Jones GP.
8: 30 a.m.–1: 30 p.m. Sit in my truck writing about the Last
Dog Standing on my laptop. Post photos to the website.
By Ron Lawson
“I generally don’t
let go of one trapeze
until I see another,
with Mark or Tom
waiting to grab my