It Was My First Time. I Think She Could Tell.

I did an hour on the bike this morning, and it felt like crap. That's pretty much par for the course at the moment, so it didn't upset me too much. On the way home I noticed that Coffee Ben's Genovese Van was parked outside DISC. I'd bumped into Ben on Friday night and he'd mentioned that he had bought a new bike - the exact bike that I was all set to buy until Sean the Man got in my ear and talked me out of it. I was keen to check this bike out. So in I went.

This blog isn't about bike reviews, so I'll spare you the details, just saying that the bike looked hot and I had a twinge of regret. It was quickly forgotten though. Sunday morning sessions at DISC are mostly for track noobs, and there were a bunch around, looking a little excited. Jessie Jean was there and was totally psyched on her first time. Her enthusiasm rubbed off on me. I remembered my first time on the track, following Nath's wheel higher and higher until I was at the top of the banks, giggling my ass off. We were supposed to be practicing flying 200s, following a more experienced rider. I didn't know him at the time, but I was following Sam McGregor. "Check it," I told my friends, "I'm going to go around him."

I threw it all at him, but couldn't quite go the distance. Sam was riding B grade at the time, and I'd never been on the track before. It was the first inkling I had that I could be pretty good at this. I was hooked.

And I reckon, after today, Jess might be too.