Monday, April 11, 2011

Track Personalities And How To Deal With Them. Part 1

So I had this idea to blog about some of the different personalities you'll encounter in your voyages to the track, and giving you my brilliantly conjectured insight on how to properly deal with them. But, the post wound up being way too long for the general public's retarded goldfish attention span. So, I decided to split it up and spread each personality throughout the week, granting you less reading time and me less writing time. #Winning. So here's the beginning of the week of Track Personalities and How To Deal With Them...

The Almost Pro BRO

(Note: The first half of this video is pretty irrelevant, but the last part was completely occupying my mind while writing this, so I had to share. Since I don't have the technical savvy to figure out how to cut it, enjoy the whole damn thing.)

This personality exists in abundance in local A classes. These guys showed a little glimmer of potential when they were on 80s, and the praise back then has stuck to their brains like rubber cement. To these guys, there is no way they aren't going pro, it's just not in the cards. They are going to get their big break and be living on Eazy Street any day now, you'll see. "Dude, only way Villopoto is faster than me is the bike, no question about it." Totally, BRO. He was running Poto's lap times at this practice track the other day, you just weren't there.

How To Deal - I cannot stress this enough: do NOT get anywhere near these guys on the track. Seriously, you come any where near him, and he will eat your fucking face off. Here's the thing about being a shitty pro rider - it doesn't pay worth a signed copy of a Millie Vanillie LP. These guys rely 100% on the $400 purse every goddamn weekend. Know what that means? They fucking hate motocross. Hate it. Zero fun, sir. They see you out there, and it's like a bull seeing the matador's fruity red ass. What the fuck are you doing racing with him? He is a god to you, understood? It is a privilege that you are allowed in his presence and by not moving out of the way, you are essentially calling his mother a low budget street walker. Stop it. Just stop it.

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