Safety net
By TMX Archives on 15th Mar 05
I'm not sure how it works in England but over here when children grow and develop into walking, talking little members of society, parents come to the realisation that they haven't had a decent night's sleep in about eight years. I'm not sure how it works in England but over here when children grow and develop into walking, talking little members of society, parents come to the realisation that they haven't had a decent night's sleep in about eight years. So they do the only reasonable thing - convince themselves that said children are able to deal with a little bit of freedom and ship them off to a place called 'summer camp'.My particular camp was called Camp Kon-O-Kwee, so named because of its proximity to Connoquenessing Creek, a gentle river flowing through the lush greenery of western Pennsylvania. During my two-week stay (around age nine, if I recall correctly) I experienced horseback riding, camping, hiking, starvation and wildly unsanitary living practices. But what I'll always remember is the canoeing.In retrospect, the idea of herding three or four pre-teen kids into canoes and setting them loose on the river seems laughable. At the time I remember being at least mildly freaked out - I was not a water person and I knew it, even at nine years old. However, I put my trust in the wise, worldly camp counsellors - I mean, they had to know what they were doing as some of them were as old as 16.What our counsellors - who had been entrusted with our safety during our stay - had failed to take into account, however, was the previous night's rainfall. There was some talk of holding the trip for another day but after a brief conference they decided to forge ahead and give us our first canoeing lesson.In the end all the boats successfully made it into the water and, despite their inexperience, the campers were able to pilot their crafts slowly and steadily upriver. All, that is, except one. One canoe was being outdistanced by the pack and to an observer from the shore (there were several) the gap was widening rather quickly as this boat - my boat - was in fact moving backwards.Myself and three other youngsters had been caught by a current and found ourselves powerless against it. Our trusty craft betrayed us, as did our spindly, malnourished arms. We were being sucked into a small section of rapids, fallen trees and jagged rocks. We had only moments to live.Just then one of those observers on the river's edge did something remarkable. He fixed a length of rope to a tree, got in a small, one-man rowboat and muscled his way through the rapidly rising waters to our canoe, now lodged against the side of a tree trunk in the middle of the river. As the pace of the current picked up, our boat threatened to capsize - time was of the essence, as they say. Knowing this and blocking out our screams and cries, this man quickly and safely transferred us, one at a time, from the boat to the shore, rowing harder and harder against the stream to get each one of us back to land safely and thus avoiding a spectacular American-style lawsuit against the camp. This experience affected me in ways I'm sure I still don't fully understand. For one, it probably ensured that I would never become a racist. Our rescuer was a black man and when a member of a different ethnic group saves you from certain death, you're less likely to look unfavourably on his entire race. However, it also taught me the real-life importance of having a safety net, a Plan B, a fail-safe option that can turn you back at the 11th hour. In the darkest of times it helps if you remembered to pack a flashlight.That's all fine and good, you're probably saying - but what does this have to do with motocross? This Yankee fool is just rambling to fill up space because he doesn't have anything to write about. And you're probably right. But bear with me for a moment, just in case I begin to make sense.We're now at the heart of the 2005 THQ SX series which is in danger of capsizing - the entire 250 class is pinned against the high hopes of the 'Perfect Storm' media circus but the rushing current of Ricky Carmichael's domination is proving too much to handle (oh yes, I can stretch a metaphor with the best of them).But we are fortunate to have a safety net or two in place. Perhaps we should turn our focus to the 125 classes. In the 125 West Region, six rounds have brought us four different winners - Ivan Tedesco, Nathan Ramsey, Billy Laninovich and Broc Hepler. The East Region, in its first two rounds, saw the wins split up by 17-year-old Davi Millsaps and series veteran Grant Langston. As promised, the 2005 season has brought us an exciting, keep-'em-guessing environment where it seems that anybody on the track can grab the ring and stand atop the podium. The problem is, they're all on 250cc four-strokes.More encouragingly, the two most recent 250 races have been legitimate thrillers, even if they were only two-way battles. In San Diego Carmichael and Chad Reed absolutely dominated the field. By the end of the evening they had lapped every rider on the track except third-placed Mike LaRocco. Reed caught and passed Carmichael and Ricky let it all hang out in a win-or-crash fury. Crash he did and Reed held on to win his first Main Event of the season.The next weekend in Atlanta lived up to the expectations set by the previous event. Reed led the first four laps, RC led the next and Reed grabbed the lead once more, holding the front position from laps six through 17. But RC put on the afterburners, gaining an amazing half-second per lap on the Aussie. Carmichael put a move on the challenger with three laps remaining, made the pass, then made it stick. The fans at the stadium were on their feet and the ones at home were loving every second.So maybe there is some glimmer of hope for the 250 class this year after all. It may not be as up-for-grabs as the 250F class but it's certainly showing signs of life. And a major component of the pre-season Perfect Storm - a certain injured Kawasaki rider known as 'Bubba' - is readying himself for a return to action.That guy who rescued us on the river...did I mention his name was James?