4. SMX

FOUR

SMX

Fast Car, Boyce Avenue

Santiago

I wake up at the crack of dawn with a FaceTime call from Marco. I don’t answer and take it for what it is. He’s canceling our riding session again. When I decided to move to Baker Oaks to be closer to the motocross track, my friend Marco started making plans for our Sunday riding sessions. The big issue? He doesn’t take riding seriously. He wants to, but his health conditions make it easier for him to be more of a leisure rider. He likes the look of riding a dirt bike and the camaraderie, but the hard work it takes to make this into a semi-career is too much for him. He knows it and his parents know it too.

Nobody thinks that at thirty we would make a career out of our hobby, but to get sponsors and gear deals to offset the cost of this expensive pastime, you need to be more than good at this. You need to be outstanding. How often you ride is usually a good indicator of how well you will perform in races. Marco tries hard to be the best he can be, but other riders with more seat time will typically beat him in the race. This is the first season he feels better enough to practice almost as often as I do, and he has made everyone aware that he’s coming for first place.

I moved to Baker Oaks to be closer to the best motocross track in the south, Shoals Motocross. SMX is about a twenty-minute ride from Baker, making it a perfect place to live. I had been online looking for a job no farther than an hour away when I ran into Baker Auto.

Tinkering with cars has always been a passion. When they posted the position for a part-time mechanic with the possibility of extra hours, I jumped at the opportunity. It helped having a close friend already living here, making my transition easier. Marco, who has been a family friend for years, had an extra room in his house and needed a roommate so it was a win-win situation.

Marco’s friend Joey—I guess you could say my friend too—is another rider and he’s getting married in a couple of weeks. When he heard I was moving to town, he invited me to the bachelor party last night. I had been exhausted from interviewing, moving, and organizing all my stuff but I still made it happen. Tienes que mostrarle a los demas lo bueno que eres. You have to let others see how good you are . I remember my mom’s saying all too well. So, I went and tried to be social. I tried to push through the discomfort of being in a sea of people I didn’t know. In a new town, two days before starting a new job. I was about to leave the bar, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Roe . Her name, sweet on my tongue. Because of her, I stayed and well, the rest is a blur.

I made it home, and after the longest and coldest shower of my life, I was able to fall asleep. I set my alarm for five in the morning to give me enough time to get up, go for a run, eat breakfast, pack the trailer, and make it to SMX before the 8:00am practice.

It’s hotter-than-hell outside on this early May morning in Florida. The humidity is making my shirt stick to my chest, and I haven’t even started running. I don’t know the town well enough, so I find a running path on the trails app on my phone and head that way, stretching while I walk. I’m usually good with directions and don’t need much to get around; however, being unprepared is how bad shit happens so I like to have all my i's dotted and all my t’s crossed. By the time I make it to the beginning of the trail, my shirt is slick with sweat, so I take it off and drop it by a rock, making a mental note to pick it up later. Running my hands through my thick dark hair, I set the timer on my watch to thirty minutes and start running. I don’t know how long it will take me to run the full trail, but I need to be back in an hour so at the thirty-minute mark, I’ll turn around.

Most people run with headphones on; I like to be present with my surroundings. I like to hear the sounds of nature. Feel the air on my face and connect to whatever is happening around me. Life is too fleeting to pass by without noticing the little things. Ana used to call those glimmers. The opposite of triggers. You ’ re so worried about what you need to do, big bro, that you ignore all the glimmers around you, she would say. And oh, she was right. She deserved to live her whole life full of glimmers but in the end, her days were cut short. Forever dimming the light she brought into the world. I promised her before she died that I would try to find glimmers every day for the rest of my life. I won’t break that promise.

I run through the trail and all the way back home without seeing another soul. I’m guessing everyone sleeps until it’s time for church in this town. It’s quiet; only birds chirping and a distant train passing. The sunrise peeks behind the Southern Yellow pine trees, painting the town hues of purple, blue, and pink, making it today’s first glimmer. This type of sunrise reminds me that you can always start over, even when you think there is no end in sight. The sun always rises.

I walk into the house and, to my surprise, Marco is awake waiting at the breakfast table, sipping on coffee and reading the newspaper. The only person under thirty who still reads the newspaper. “I thought you were canceling on me,” I say while opening the fridge to grab a water bottle.

“Nah, I FaceTimed on accident. I was trying to text you to ask if you were going running first.” He doesn’t look up from the newspaper while he sips his coffee.

“I did. My bad if you wanted to come. Next time.”

“Not running anymore but I made a list of good running areas. Here.” He hands me a piece of paper with a list. He’s also the only guy under thirty who uses pen and paper for reminders and notes. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“I found this trail today.” I show him the trail on my phone with the distance I covered. “It’s called St. Mary’s Trail. It was good but I only made it three miles in before I had to turn around. I’m sure I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“That’s a good one! You can go in different ways too, making it a new experience every time.”

I pat him on the back and say, “I’m going to shower and get dressed. Give me ten.”

I walk into the room, strip off my clothes, and hop into the shower to quickly rinse off. I get dressed in my riding clothes: shorts, a dry-fit shirt, tennis shoes, and my Baseball Classic cap worn backward. I run outside and after loading everything up, we head to SMX. The clock on the truck reads 7:20am. Right on track .

We park the truck and exit into humid hot air. I can feel droplets of moisture on my skin like I’m getting out of the shower, except I’m standing fully clothed in the morning sunshine.

The track is packed, which doesn’t surprise me: round one of The Trail Riders starts in a couple of weeks. People are parked all through the pit area, unloading their bikes and gear, and getting ready for TTR.

Most riders are men, but I’ve heard about this rider, A. Sorelle, who is supposed to be one badass woman. She trains here and I have been wanting to see what all the fuss is about. Her online videos are what legends are about but there’s very little information about who she is. The word on the street is that she doesn’t socialize much. She supposedly intimidates the crap out of people. She also doesn’t go by her first name which makes it harder to find. Too many A. Sorelles out there.

We’ve been out here for a good thirty minutes and are ready to go. There’s a line waiting for the gates to drop so we can all ride; a sea of riders and their dirt bikes. The sound of revving and the smell of burning oil from the two-stroke engine reminds me of why I’m here and why I like this sport.

We still have ten minutes before the gate drops when we hear a loud vehicle pulling up. I turn to see what the commotion is all about. A shiny black Jeep enters, blasting a song that sounds like it could be Miley Cyrus from the speakers. It parks right by the gate entrance where we are waiting, and when the engine stops and the door opens, I can see thin legs and checkered Vans peeking from under the door. The person jumps down and slams the door shut. It’s the feisty, sexy bartender from last night.