Anarchy in the G.J.

Nothing says "Halloween fun-time" like a couple of blood-splattered junkies!


After this foray into the dark side, Jim has decided he, too, needs a black motorcycle jacket. He borrowed mine  to walk from the Dark Show to Trevor and Warren’s show at Mesa Theatre and was a bit reluctant to give it back. You should’ve seen the painfully realistic trackmarks he created on our arms with eye- and lip-liner.

Here’s Trevor, in costume as "a douchebag." His description, not mine. The funny thing was that one of the bartenders at Mesa was wearing the exact same hat…

Laura didn’t have on a costume, but that’s OK, ’cause mine was big enough to share:

Also, today was the boys’ first BMX race. The first we’ve shown up for that’s actually happened, anyway. There’s been a series of error-comedies resulting in us driving out to the fairgrounds two or three times and discovering no race was to be held that day.

But today… triumph! At least in the sense of getting to the track and finding other people there!

The boys had to borrow regulation full-face helmets, in which they looked ridiculously cute. Or cutely ridiculous.

When they finally got up to the top of the starting hill (I’m sure it has an official name, but I’m new to this), they were slightly terrified of actually going down. The gatekeeper was standing there impatiently, waiting to trigger the automatic gate, while tears welled up in their eyes and there were utterances of "I want to go home right now!" and the like. But being the kind-hearted and compassionate parents we are, we told them we had NOT driven out all this way for three $@# weeks and paid ten bucks a pop so they could chicken out at the last second… and the gates dropped, and with a tender shove to their rear wheels, they were off!

And of course, after their first practice lap around the track, they wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

The actual races went fairly well, as long as "fairly well" includes the possibility of coming in last place. Which both boys did for every single "moto" (match/heat/whatever). Rhys was clocking along respectably in his first moto, when all of a sudden his front wheel skidded sideways and he took a dramatic tumble. I ran over to help him get up; he was crying, so I encouraged him to come off the track with me. NO NO NO, Mama, that was NOT what he wanted to do! He hopped back on his bike and he finished that race… to the wild applause of the small but enthusiastic crowd.

Here’s Fisher, skimming past the finish line:

And Rhys, powering over a series of "jumps":

But regardless of winning or otherwise, they had a lovely time and can’t wait to do it again next week.

About Molly Newman

Writer, cook and trivia/spelling bee hostess, living it up in North Portland.
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2 Responses to Anarchy in the G.J.

  1. Herm says:

    OH MY GOODNESS. Can’t remember when I have more enjoyed a post. You guys look tremendous, and the boys look…um…fearless? I can’t believe that any grandchildren of our mother would be riding in a BMX race. Or nephews of mine, for that matter. Heavens.

  2. Mimi says:

    I’m with Herm, you look fabulous and the boys look like they are doing great!

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