I racked my brain for someone who might want to come with me and watch kids spin dirt on a Saturday afternoon, and I remembered that my friend Peter, originally from Salem, totally loves the bmx and mountain bike culture. He loves it enough that he was willing to forgo his normal twelve-hour hangover recovery time to bike out to the Lane County Fairgrounds at noon.
We were still hazy from our Friday nights, so it took us a while to find the livestock barn, where Emerald Valley BMX sets up the twisted, bumpy indoor racetrack every weekend. The Fairgrounds were abuzz with a variety of events, including youth league basketball and roller hockey. The events center was hosting an goliath gaming and boating show. There seemed to be no defined connection between all the items on display, though they shared the commonality of drawing a certain kind of consumer. I was overwhelmed by the number of people and trucks in the parking lot, but Peter was mesmerized. "Maybe we should come here after the race!" he told me, and I gagged a little.
We bought some caramel corn and moved on. We opened a wrong door and accidentally disrupted someone's free throw. At a certain point I wondered if we'd ever find the barn, or if I was doomed to write a Gonzo story describing the journey rather than the actual event (incidentally, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas opens with Hunter S. Thompson traveling to cover a dirt-bike race. My experience was sans motors or drugs, but I found the parallel amusing nonetheless.)
When we finally found the barn, it was past 12:30. Though we were half and hour late, the tikes were still warming up around the track. We scoped out the competition and placed our bets. Peter took special note of wipe-outs, and perhaps didn't contain his laughter enough when he saw a novice rider eat it.
There were actually dozens of races, which made the event difficult to cover. The kids were divided by age, experience, and type of bicycle, and for each division there were two qualifiers before the final. I spent a long time observing and making sense of the chaos. Races started before former races finished, so I focused on a couple of divisions and riders that I found particularly interesting. There was a little girl, for example, who was kicking ass and taking names in her co-ed, 8-year-old division, and I serendipitously sat behind her parents.
There is something oddly daunting about interviewing children, perhaps because parents are often suspicious of people asking for personal information from their offspring. Not wanting to offend, I asked the girl's parents if I could interview her. They were very nice, I think because they were flattered by my admiration for their daughter's accomplishments. I imagine they are the kind of parents who live vicariously through their children, always yelling from the sidelines and arranging after-school activities to ensure maximum success in the minimum amount of time. They turned to their daughter and said, "Kayla, this lady wants to interview you!" She was excited to brag about beating boys and repairing flats on her awesome bicycle. I was a little jealous. Before her dad took her away to go to another race in Cottage Grove, she gave me her autograph.
My afternoon at the track was fun and fruitful. I picked up two personal interviews, a couple colorful quotes from the race announcer, and a lot of literature about Emerald Valley BMX. The story was a piece of cake, and a good excuse to spend my Saturday afternoon watching kids rough it on cool bikes.
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