"Well, sure. If I can do it, you can too," I say. I tell them how my husband has been racing since '06, with me as pit crew and Gatorade concierge. I do PTA, I say, and motorcycle racing. I'd once thought Moms didn't race motorcycles. My vintage Honda Hawk cruiser had been my only two-wheel adventure.
Then, I saw a woman on the racetrack. Lots of women ride and race motorcycles; it's not exclusively a man's sport. But this racer was out there, holding her own with the rest of the racers. I wasn't at a place in the stands to watch her doing battle with anyone, but she was out there. It was cold and wet, and not conducive to spectating. I caught glimpses of her coming onto the long straight, dragging her knee, dreadlocks flying out from under the back of her helmet.
She was racing. When she removed her helmet, the grin on her face told the story. I didn't know who she was, but she was pretty damn cool.
A few months later my husband and I ventured to Grattan Raceway to spend a week riding with friends. It was there that I was treated to a 2-up session on the track. Two-up is two riders on one bike, going fast, and, yes, dragging a knee in the turns.
Bait taken; hook set.
The desire for a bike of my own welled up inside. My husband was thrilled. He acquired a retired Yamaha FZR600 from a friend, cleaned her up, and within two months I was out on the track. Skittish as a new colt, I was simply happy to have graduated from the spectator club. I was on my own bike (MY. OWN. MOTORCYCLE.) hitting triple-digit speeds and freaking myself out. What a rush!
Soon race season came. The image of that racer, having the time of her life, dreadlocks flying, stayed with me. In a short time I earned my official race license. When they said I'd passed the test, I was giddy. I couldn't wait to grid up with the others. Despite my enthusiasm, I came in dead last in every race I ran that season, probably even setting a record for being lapped. But I was a RACER. I never stopped smiling.
Recently, at an event at Heartland Park Topeka, I met up with friends from an online Women Road Racers group. It was great to put faces to names, and share hugs with women from all over the country. We told stories and encouraged one another to keep getting better and faster.
Later on, as I was browsing old pictures online, I came across the image from my memory: a woman racer with dreadlocks dangling from under the back of her helmet. I cross-checked names. Without realizing it, I'd spent an hour the previous weekend chatting with my racing inspiration (she no longer has dreads). I sent her a thank you note. Racing is a small world.
As women, we tend to think our actions are self-contained. We often don't see ourselves inspiring others just by following our dreams. Even though I grew up in a motorcycle house, spent years riding a street bike, and worked on a pit crew, the idea of me actually racing a motorcycle was foreign. I know amazingly talented racers and I call them friends. But it was the sight of Ms. Dreadlocks (Jen, by the way) screaming down the straight that lit the spark to take this leap of confidence.
Now my 12-yr old daughter wants to race. I'm hoping I'm her inspiration, but know it could be anyone out there on the grid. I'm thrilled she's following her inspiration.
