M 1 G P 2 4 H O U R
P98
FEATURE
night as we run an hour and a
half each, the air cool and thick
and loaded with oxygen, mean-
ing the tiredness we start to feel
at one hour doesn't keep in for
another half.
Lap times vary, the fastest
running 1:01s, back to 1:07s, and
aside from our little get-off just
before dark, as the sun breaks
over the Willow Springs desert,
we're lying in fifth place out right.
Natalie is a trooper. This girl
has guts. She's back on at 4:00
a.m., not setting the world on
fire with her laps times but stay-
ing consistent, even lapping
some of the midpack teams.
Incredible when you think how
long she's been riding, and the
fact her leathers are so big she
looks like something off an M.C
Hammer video.
The leading Honda Groms
are simply murdering us. Off
every corner they take five bike
lengths, and no matter how hard
you run through the bend, they
disappear up the road like a fart
in a windstorm. Until they return,
and humiliate us all again.
There's some really slow rid-
ers out on track in the morning,
and inexplicably there's a little
kid on a little Honda XR50, no
more than four or five at best,
riding around on track, not even
in the race. I nearly run into
him at least three times. Not his
fault, he's only a kid. But to have
him on track is nothing short of
maniacal, and it's amazing he
doesn't get cleaned up by one of
the Groms, who are seriously on
it as they battle for the win.
The two Seans finish their last
morning stints, hand me the bike
and I pound out my final hour,
Cantle crosses
the line. The man
has never been so
relieved to get off a
motorcycle.
