Monkey Business -12- by Melanie Brown

Monkey Business Part 12

By

Melanie Brown
Copyright © 2024

“Hey, Nick.”

“Well, hey, Randy,” greeted Nick as I entered his garage. It was a Saturday and another race day. So now, instead of putting Nick’s bike on the center rail of his trailer, we put our bikes on the outside rails. Lately we haven’t had anyone stopping me from helping to load/unload the bikes.

Nick took a slug from the beer he was drinking. “Go change into your leathers. We need to get there a bit early.”

I frowned at Nick. “Speaking of early, isn’t it a bit early in the day to be downing beers?”

Nick frowned back. “I’ve just had the one. Sorry. I’m worried about getting back in the race.” Nick had been working on his bike to get it back in condition to compete in sidehack motocross.

I laughed. “You? Nick? Worried? You’ve had some bad spills before that never stopped you.”

Nick grunted a laugh. “I have several reasons to be nervous…”

“Hey guys!” called out a familiar voice entering the garage.

Nick shrugged and pointed at the person entering the garage. “I have a new monkey.”

“Colin?!” I said in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”

Colin said, “Like I’ve said before, Randi, this kind of racing is too dangerous for someone delicate like you.”

“Horse shit!” I exclaimed. “Nick. What the hell?”

Nick sighed. “Sorry, bud. But Colin is right, but not for the reason he thinks. Your dad told me if I ever let you near my rig during a race again, he’d remove some choice body parts. I don’t think he was kidding. Colin was already familiar with me and the bike, so I gave him a call.”

“That’s nuts!” I yelled. “If I can’t race, why am I even going?”

Nick said, “Your dad doesn’t seem to have a problem with you racing your own bike. At least for now.” He turned towards Colin. “Give me a hand loading these bikes.”

Scowling, I said, “Back off, Colin. I got this.”

Nick shook his head. “Sorry, Randy. But I can’t risk you getting hurt. While we load the bikes, go change.”

Feeling indignant, I just stood and scowled at Nick. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. I’ve got the experience to help you win.”

Nick said as he ran his bike up the ramp, “We’ve been practicing the last few evenings.  Colin worked out pretty well. Go change!”

I stood in the garage another moment, watching them load the bikes on the trailer before turning and heading into Nick’s house to put on my leathers. Racing sidehack is fun. I can’t believe he’d take it away from me. There’s always talk of my photo sessions being at risk if I hurt myself racing.

As soon as Nick got the bikes strapped down, he said, “Saddle up, boys. Let’s ride. I think today will be a good day.”

When I climbed up into the cab of Nick’s truck, I found myself sitting in between Nick and Colin. Colin threw his arm behind my shoulder. Colin grinned at me. “You look sharp in your new leathers.”

I smiled weakly back. “Thanks.”

As Nick started his truck, he said, “You might want to consider moving up from that Powder Puff class. I think you’re a better rider than that.”

Colin nodded. “I think Nick is probably right.”

Nick’s new sound system can really crank out the db’s and I’m sure we’ll all be deaf before we’re thirty.

Forty-five minutes later, we were in our pit area. Nick and Colin had unloaded the sidecar from the bed of Nick’s truck, and Colin assisted Nick in getting it attached to his bike. I just stood there like a fifth wheel.

Colin zipped himself up in his leathers at the track. I’d never seen them before. They were black and silver and very form-fitting.

“Like your leathers, Colin,” I said as we were getting ready for Nick’s race to start.

Grinning, Colin said, “Thanks. Dad bought ‘em for me. Like yours, these are vented.” He picked up his skidlid. “Matching helmet, too.”

“Lookin’ sharp.”

Colin chuckled, “Not as iconic though as your solid pink.”

Shaking his head, Nick said, “If you two are done admiring each other, we need to get down to the starting line.”

Colin pointed at me after he slid his brain-bucket on. “Make sure you check out my moves!”

I sighed as I was left alone to prep my bike for my race.  I really didn’t need to do anything. Who cares if Nick wasn’t there? I checked the bike over twice to make sure everything worked smoothly. I popped the fuel cap off and sloshed the gas in the tank a bit. I don’t burn a lot of gas during a race, but I decided to add a bit more. One kick and the engine roared to life. I took a few deep breaths and blipped the throttle a couple of times. I don’t need Nick.

I rode over to the track and caught the start of Nick’s race. Colin definitely struck a more masculine figure than I ever could. He was braced and ready, and when the gate dropped, he started changing positions to keep the sidehack on the ground. I hate to admit it, but he looked very professional.

I watched several races before my class was ready to go. Maybe Nick is right, and I should change class. The only rider that was any competition to me was Becky and maybe Kat.

Becky rolled her bike up next to mine flipped up her visor, and said, “Hey, girl. Ready to get smoked again?”

I laughed. “You wish!”

Becky looked serious for a moment. “How was your date with Carson? I didn’t talk to him before he left.”

Trying not to sound angry, I said, “I’m going to kick your butt today as payback for that date!”

Shaking her head, she said, “That bad, huh? Sorry. I didn’t really know him. Aren’t you dating Colin anyway?”

Scowling, I said, “No.”

“I noticed he took your place with Nick.”

I nodded. Becky shrugged. “Competition is pretty tough. Nick might be better off with a boy riding with him.”

I poked my chest with my thumb. “I’m tough!”

Becky grinned. “Girl, you don’t have to tell me that. Hey, we better line up.” She pulled her visor back down.

I nodded, but she was already rolling to the starting line.

My vision narrowed, and my muscles tensed. The sound system announced the pending start to the first moto of the powder puff class. The gate dropped, I released the clutch, and jumped ahead of Becky. Just barely. I blew her out on the first turn, and my confidence began to climb. I hit the second berm low, forcing Becky to go high and slowing her down.

On a straight, I managed to cover her in mud. After that, she dogged me pretty hard. A couple of times, it seemed our handlebars were going to touch. She caught me on the final turn and passed me. She tried to get some distance on the second lap. We both launched into the air on the big jump and crossed up together. I hoped someone got shot of it. Hitting the straight, I avoided her splash of mud and just started to pass her when suddenly my engine chunked to a stop and my rear wheel ran freely, the chain laid out on the ground. I was just stopped in the middle of the track. Several riders roared past me.

A couple of spectators ran out and helped pull my bike from the track so it would no longer be a hazard.  One of them pointed at my rear wheel. “Oh, man! That’s some shitty luck!” I looked down, and my heart sunk.

The chain had broken, and several links had crammed the counter-shaft sprocket, killing the engine.

“Ah, shit!” I yelled, pissed off. What a disaster! Not only do I lose the race, but the chain could have knocked a hole in the crankcase, and the countershaft might be damaged. This could be a career-ender. If the case is cracked, I know Dad won’t pay for a replacement case. I looked at my bike lying on the ground, and I cried.

End of Part 12