One sunny summer afternoon, the smell of dirt and gasoline filled the air. I was at the Englishtown Raceway park, like a normal summer weekend. My family and I loaded up my dads black pickup truck with equipment, hitched on the 3 motorcycle trailer and loaded up our dirt bikes every weekend when I was about 11 years old. I had just learned how to ride my dirt bike, and I was still getting used to using a clutch but nothing was going to stop me from perfecting it.
As we pull in, I observe the 3 different tracks they have to ride on. There was a beginners track, an intermediate track, and a expert track. I have already conquered the beginners track for the most part, and I wanted to take a ride on the intermediate track more than anything. It had huge mountainous jumps and it was a lot longer in length.
Once we pull into our spot, me and my two brothers cannot wait to start riding. But first we need to unload our bikes and get situated. So we began unloading our bikes one after another. My littlest brothers name was Brandon, we started him very young and we was pretty good for a kid who was only 5 years old. My other brother dean, just a couple years younger than me, he was 9 years old at the time.
So, we are unloaded and ready to go. My brothers and I all race to the beginners track. I wanted to warm up because in my mind I knew at some point that day I was going to attempt that intermediate track. My father kept telling me that he thinks I should learn a little bit more before I go to the intermediate track. He always said “you have to get a little more experiences before you start trying to leap over those huge jumps.”
“Yea right, I’ve been ready,” I always replied.
Finally, after a little while, I built up enough confidence to take a shot at the intermediate track. At first, I just wanted to take it slow. After only a couple laps, I felt pretty comfortable. So that is when I began going faster and faster. Then, when I least expected it...