Sit down kidlet, and let me tell you a story.
Now as you know, your Uncle Trung and I pay an exorbitant amount of money to get ourselves killed, possibly engulfed in a raging ball of fire at over a hundred miles per hour, or what is more commonly known as a motorcycle trackday. Now there usually isn't anything out of the norm whenever we do our trackdays, we just go there, gear up, turn the key on our missiles, and go around as fast as we can while staying in one piece at the end of it.
But on this particular day, there was just strangeness all over.
When you see something strange and unusual on track,
raise your hand to let everyone else know.
The strangeness started with the weather, with the track overcast but dry from the previous night's rain. Then within the next hour the track was soaked in another bout of rain.
I had never jet-ski'd before, but a Hustler in the land is a Hustler in the water, if you know what I mean.
Then, within the next hour, it was Spring! Your Uncle and I managed to get a handful of dry laps before the clouds, and eventually the rain, came again.
But just before the rain came again, IT happened.
You see, your Uncle Trung came up to me and told me, "I'm going to follow you on video, so do about sixty to sixty-five percent of your pace." To which of course, I had said, "Ok."
So the next session we go out to, I rode like I said I would. I came back to the pits after a handful of laps or so, but your Uncle Trung was already there, even though I never saw him pass me.
"What was that?!" Uncle Trung asked, to which I replied, "What?"
"I lost you just halfway through the warm-up lap!" So we decided to do it again in the following session. "Remember: SIXTY to SIXTY-FIVE PERCENT only," Uncle Trung insisted, which once again I duly noted.
So we did another session, and I periodically checked with my peripheral vision to make sure Uncle Trung was behind me. Everytime I looked, Uncle Trung was in touch.
We did this for nearly a handful of laps, wading through on-track traffic. But then, unbeknownst to me, your Uncle Trung decided to attempt a pass on me around the outside of Turn 2. He had been sizing me up the whole time he was following me, trying to set up a pass on me on Turn 2.
So I dived into Turn 2, your Uncle Trung still in tow. But your Uncle Trung then tried to carry enough corner-speed to go around me, leaning the bike more and more to compensate and try to make his ill-advised passing attempt.
Uncle Trung leaned and leaned, and per his words to himself, "(Fruit) yeah, keep on leaning!" He leaned and leaned, until his front-end folded on him, front tire losing grip and therefore losing contact from the tarmac.
Uncle Trung and his bike slid, heading off the track. Upon hitting the dirt, Uncle Trung and his bike then started an acrobatic competition against one another.
The bike won on sheer acrobatic technicality like it was NEVER going to be outdone.
Tail stands, head stands, no stands - it pulled it off with vicious tenacity numerous times until it landed down to graceful halt.
Your Uncle Trung got up to his feet, having conceded defeat for the second time in a matter of seconds.
He walked to congratulate his machine, the true sport that your Uncle always is.
Don't worry kids, Uncle Trung was safe and sound. But he was VERY MAD for having TURNED ON the camera prior to the session, but not hitting the RECORD button!
So to this day your dad still has no decent video of himself on the track, and your Uncle Trung has yet to pay a higher price for being so duplicitous than he did that day.
So what is the moral of the story? :)
