The moment I saw this pop up in my newsfeed, I was thirteen years old again. I can remember my last trip to the motocross park here in Lawton. My cousins and I were in the back of their fathers old school Suburban. Mid-80's model, had the two tone blue on darker blue paint, brushed aluminum trim, and the bluest interior you can imagine.

My aunt and uncle were up front, me and one cousin in the middle bench seat, our smallest cousin in the third row. He was already going through the giant motocross gear bag in the cargo area trying to get his pants and jersey on. He was pretty excited because his gear was still new. He and his brother were both Thor guys in terms of brands. I can't exactly remember the colors, but I want to say it was somewhere between hot pink and light purple with black trim, white accents. Come to think of it, black cherry, but heavy on the purplish hue. I can remember my aunt telling him not to put his boots on in the car. It's understandable, they were still covered in mud and dirt from the previous week of riding at the family farm.

I don't remember coming through Lawton, we most likely went around, but I do remember pulling up to the Kephart motocross track southeast of town. I'm not sure if it was Kephart back then, this is 1996, but I do remember the lights were already on as the sun was fading. Riders were already doing their thing on the track, you could smell the two-cycle exhaust a half mile away and you could hear them getting louder as we drove closer. I can't even describe the anticipation.

I don't remember getting bikes out of the trailer, or any of the small details of gassing them up, but I do remember hanging out at the starting gate getting ready to see my little cousin do his thing. If you don't know, there are bars angled up at the front tires. If you try to go a little early, that bar will trap your bike at the starting line. You have to wait until they drop just enough to get over it. My cousin picked a spot somewhere in the middle. There were twelve or fifteen other riders, all sitting there doing the same thing... vroom, vroom... Revving their engines, probably to make sure there are no last minute issues, but more importantly, it felt good to do that. It sounded cool. It told the person to the left and right that you were there to win.

As the start warning turned sideways, and the man tasked with that job walked off the track, engines come to full revolution. High RPM's, drop the clutch, go baby go. And they went. I don't remember who took the holeshot, or who lead most of the race, but I do remember my little cousin winning. He won every race that night, took home a tall trophy for his efforts too. To tell the truth, he was so dang good at riding motorcycles, everyone in the family had him pegged to go pro. He raced the Grand National Championships in my hometown, the same as any other big motocross name did once. But at that level, maybe he didn't like how aggressive the other riders were. It's all just memories now.

The point being, Kephart is opening their track this Sunday if you want to go have a little social distance fun.

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