Divine Intervention

Once more, I stave off the inevitable. It was close (painfully so), but I managed to emerge victorious in the classic struggle of youth vs. maturity today in Dickson as I managed to squeeze out another victory over my 17 year old son. The scene was the second round of the ISTA 2006 Championship Trials Series and the stage was set for geriatric disappointment as I dealt myself into a game with the cards staked clearly against me from the beginning. Not content with the challenge of natural selection, I (in a moment of shear madness) re-mounted my archrival on what was clearly the superior steed. Oh, it was probably ill advised from the beginning, setting my sights on re-entering the world of vintage trials on what could be the most anemic production trials motorcycle in history (at least in modern history). Granted, my Honda TL125 has received a considerable amount of well-documented modification, but still it is what it is. My son wasn’t much better equipped, set to (reluctantly) ride his much campaigned Suzuki RL. He really hates that machine, so right off the bat the psychological advantage was all mine. I needed the help too; he was nipping at my heals through the entirety of the last trials season. Fact is going into the last round of last years ITSA series, he carried a small lead. A good finish in the last event was all that saved me from an off-season of endless ridicule and a multitude of “old man” jokes. Egad! What a painful experience that would have been, but I digress. Yep, the old RL would have likely sealed his fate while securing mine. SO what did I do? I work a marathon garage session to complete the assembly of a pretty dog-gone nice Yamaha TY250. The Yamaha has a long history of success and still seems to be the clear ride of choice for those making their way into many vintage trials winner’s circle. Still, I thought that entering the event today on a bike he had no time on would have set me up for taking a quick lead. Wrong! He had me by 6 points after the first round. During the break before the second round I played the old “I got trouble with my clutch” game and this seemed to help because with 6 sections to go, I’d managed to shave a point off his lead. Slow progress (too slow) and I was beginning to really start thinking of good excuses when he upped and slipped a foot off the peg while riding though the rocky creek section. (His own worst enemy) this made him mad enough that the next pass through it, he sets a foot down again. Only this time his boot finds a hole and the next thing we know he’s standing on his head and I’m suddenly “up” by one point. Here’s where I get a little help from above; HE CAN’T GET THE THING TO START BACK UP! How’s that for living right? Oh, it cost me. I couldn’t leave him stranded alone in the deepest hole and stayed to help with the longest push back to the truck in history. Also, we both landed in the rear of the pack on points when we took 10s on the final sections, but I wasn’t at the very end. Nope, (at least for another day) the old man still RULES! Better luck next time son and thanks to all who stopped to help. Too bad nothing helped. He he he. Great trials, thanks to Bob (and crew). Also thanks to my riding partners for the day, Graham, Mike, George and (of course) Clay. I had a blast and (at least for one more time) the ride home was great.