Never Lift
- Updated: July 15, 2014
We have all heard the war stories when it comes to racing a big UTV on a cross country track. Whether it be the heartbreak of not getting your machine ready to race in time, the frustration of an injury or the utter disgust when the track claims your machine, if you’ve raced a side by side you know the frustration that I’m talking about.
Regardless of how it happened, not finishing a race could break an otherwise strong individual. What I want to talk about in this edition of Never Lift, is the race before the race, the battle that it takes just to pull into the track. This battle starts the moment we pull in the driveway from the last race. It’s usually 1 am when we start unloading the race rig. Once everything is put away then we’ll be lucky to get a cat nap in before we have to head back out into reality and do what pays the bills.
Dragging home from work Monday evening requires a special kind of determination to get the equipment out and clean everything, and washing a UTV takes about three times as long as a bike or quad. A thorough inspection reveals a lot of items that need your attention to say the least. And if you’re like me you find the one part that your local dealer doesn’t have in stock.
Now starts the wait for parts that is reminisce of the tinker toy we saved cereal box tops for at age nine. This waiting period is worse than waiting for Christmas if you ask me. And it seems like paying for the parts is as big of a challenge as working your way through the pack on a dusty GNCC course. For some reason there’s always something else that comes up, like the hot water heater fails, and it’s either cold showers or dip into the race fund so your family can take hot showers. So if you’re like us, you’re not opposed to selling something in order to have enough cash to get to the next event.
Then, as usual, the part finally arrives with not even a day to spare before the race. So there you are wrenching the night before the race when you should be sleeping. Now whether the machine is ready or not it’s time to head out if we want to get there on time. Whatever we were trying to sell to make it to race day sure as shit hasn’t sold, so we grab the trusty penny jar by door and zoom down to the bank. $278.34, if we eat peanut butter and jelly at the track then we have enough for sign up and race gas.
The drive to the race is always a mad rush. Someone always forgets something very important to them and requires a stop at a department store that consumes time and the budget is quickly blown to smithereens before we even get to the track. The second half of the trip is a blur mixed with bench racing and boasting about the guaranteed win the next day. Then it finally happens, the gate to the track comes into view. When you drive under those little plastic checkered flag banners all the stress melts away and the euphoria of the racing experience begins, no more stressing or worrying about the blown budget – we may as well be pulling into the Garden of Eden.
