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I just realized it recently. Riding off-road vehicles really has nothing to do with bicycles. Maybe it has nothing to do with horse riding. This idea is not new to me, it has been in my mind for a long time, but it was brought to the forefront during the weekend.

It all started with a text message from my friend Troy, which awakened me from the deep state of relaxation on Friday night.

"You tear up the miniature tomorrow night? Jared is here too, you can take that bitch away!"

After the initial chaos, my mental clutch started to rub, and I suddenly realized that Troy was referring to the annual 100cc race at the local circuit Cycleland Raceway outside Chico, California the next night. The race celebrates the birthday of the track every year, and the number of laps is determined by the age of the track. Cycleland is 59 years old this year, and I completely forgot about it.

"Damn it, is that tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow night. The gate opens at five and the game starts at seven."

I tried to find excuses, as if I were going to be a juror.

"Before that I would be hammered to death, and now I am bankrupt."

"It only costs $10, and I think it encourages drunk racing."

"That will be fun."

Knowing that I lost in this argument, I was plunged into darkness, hoping that the text would magically stop appearing. they do not. In fact, they have increased and now come from another source-Jared.

"Destroy that old DR-Z, let's play tomorrow night!"

"I'm old. Too old to fit this."

"Same. Old men who went out to play. For this game, I picked up an old XR100 from the trailer."

"I don't think Uber will also ship motorcycles."

"I'll pick you up."

Resistance is futile. I gave in. If the universe wants me to go to the bar with my friends and have fun, what right do I have to protest? I'm a little worried about my endurance-59 laps are no joke, but hey, this is an oval track designed for mini sprint racing. It shouldn't be that difficult, right? I also knew that drunk riding was actually not encouraged, as Troy suggested, and realized that I had to rule in a Saturday afternoon prank, or just sneak up on it. If you know me, you will know which way I am going at that fork in the road.

When I was preparing my wife's DR-Z125 the next day, I was very happy to hear the sound of rain. Finally, I found an excuse to stay home and be lazy. They can't run this thing in the rain, right? Unfortunately, the dark clouds gave way to the sun. In order to cope with the muddy conditions, the track decided to waive the field fee for both spectators and drivers. It seems that the god of motorcycles didn't let me out of trouble.

As promised, Jared, the veteran rider I can only see once every few years, showed up at about four o'clock. We filled the car and rolled onto the track. When we arrived, I was surprised that many familiar faces appeared, many of which I hadn't seen in a long time. It's like the reunion of gangsters transformed into adults. Compared to a bunch of idiots at bachelor parties, I distributed and received more high-fives.

After the rider meeting, about 40 of us rolled onto the track. Without practice, each rider only ran one lap to ensure that the transponder was working properly. I’m not nervous or anything else, it’s just for fun, but when it’s time for the game, if I say I didn’t find myself leaning on the front fender involuntarily, raising my elbows and RPM, and releasing the clutch, then I’m Friction in lying and flirting. I can't see myself, but I think anyone posing in the 2006 DR-Z125 looks as cool as a hipster in pajamas and crocodile skin. When I realized that I was in third gear instead of second, I might look more stupid at the beginning. I put down the hammer, the bike was in trouble, and as the others drove past quickly, it slowly rolled forward. I started in the second row, but when I entered the first lap, I thought all six rows were ahead of me.

The thought of relaxing at this moment is just for fun, be careful, and forget it all. I have many places to make up, and I won't wait until lap 58 to make up! I downshifted and started to bounce the DR-Z off the rev limiter, just like a kid riding a Halloween candy. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the traction is so good. The soil is wet, but it is clay. On most tracks, you can almost turn and burn with the throttle on. I am not a top seven or top eight opponent, they obviously take this game very seriously every year. Their bicycles are so fast that they are packed all the way. If you block their way, you will be hit and stand up quickly. The final winner, Maples (I don't know his name, but I often see the back of his jersey) kept me away from him more than once.

Somehow, I am still doing very well and may have been in the top ten after about ten laps. I can't believe I had such a good time! Then I tried to cut too tightly, clipped a hay bale, and went down. I was fine, but due to the fauna behind me, my bike eventually showed some tracks. At that time I regrouped, tore off a tear, and then returned to the game. I know that I have achieved good results, so I just looked around for Jared or Troy. Those guys need to be killed! After cruising a few laps, I found Jared following me. I let him pass and dropped the hammer. It was a mistake to let him go-I failed to catch him! Circle after circle, I was almost 20 feet behind him. I may enter Turn One by staying on the throttle for a longer time, and then he will immediately retract. I gave it everything I had, but I just couldn't get him. After the checkers flew up, he pulled into the field and tried to give me a "good game" fist strike. I refused, but chose to line up in front of him, put down the clutch, and sprayed him with turf and mud. I ended up in 16th place, which looks pretty good considering all factors. Despite the fact that I was riding a super slow forest road bike, it easily became the most interesting thing I have been riding a motorcycle in many years.

The bench game after that was as crazy as the game, and my friends smiled and reviewed what had just happened. Drank a drink, exchanged insults, and offered excuses. Even Troy, who broke his lower fibula when patted with his foot in the corner, said he was happy to be back in 2022. Through the PA system, the enthusiasm of the track owner echoes our enthusiasm.

"If the founders see what we just did, they will laugh! Now bring those transponders back to the tower, they are expensive!"

Simple game, simple machinery, great fun. I hardly knew that the best part of the weekend would not happen until the next day.

Explore some of the most remote and undeveloped areas of California on the Ducati Multistrada V4 S adventure bike.

At breakfast on Sunday morning, I told my children how great their super cool dad did, and my 6-year-old son started riding a horse. So, I installed his TT-R50 and my daughter's KLX110 for me to use as a pit bike, and then returned to Cycleland. However, when we got there, his heart sank-they were closed! It turns out that there is not enough time to properly prepare the motocross track after the rain. However, the owner was on this land and came out to look at the back of the truck. Seeing the children's bikes, he waved us in and told us if we wanted to ride the children's track. He doesn't even accept payment. In other words, my son completely owns the track, and I didn't spend a dime!

Although I had a lot of fun the night before, the little guy who watched me circled, gained confidence, became bolder, and gave me a big thumb every time he rode by, which was compared with my happiness. When I jumped on 110 and rode side by side with him, it felt even better, which seemed to be 59 laps again. There is no one around, no fancy motocross under my feet. The outer word does not exist, only him and me, combined through our common two rounds of experience.

From time to time, he jumped a little faster than expected, grabbing up to four inches of air, and I would hear him yelling happily in his helmet.

"Did you see that!?"

"Yes, man, that's awesome!"

One of the most interesting parts of the afternoon was when he talked about how stupid he thought the design of the jump was. The 15-foot gap was obviously like the Grand Canyon to him, he didn't realize it was a double.

"Dad, this jump is too stupid. The first one is good, but the second one is too small and there is no air at all!"

"The second one is Landing, man."

"Don't worry, go by bike."

When he was not riding a horse, he would run around, pick up the torn things, lift them to his face, pretending to tear them off. My heart is so full, every time he rides over and says "Dad, I love you" to me, he is one step closer to bursting. This is what cycling has always meant for me. This is about shared experiences and bonds with family and friends. I have never found anything closer to people than these experiences, bringing my smile closer to my ears, and based on the weekend I just spent, I think I will never. I don't know what the future holds, but thanks to the off-road vehicle, my hard drive is filled with incredibly rich and powerful memories, which will always be with me.