Here goes... I started out in the motorcycle community when I was in Elementary, I remember riding on the back of my brothers Kawasaki KX 500 in the rain and muck to the starting line in a desert race. Someone there to wish him luck and give his goggles one last wipedown before he started his 60 to 80 miles race. I soon got tired of the walk back to the pits in the mud and muck, meeting my mom in the front seat of the cozy and warm F250 with the heat on, and my dad helping out the race coordinators or chattin up one of his dozens of riding buddies on pit row. Dad went out and bought me and my mom a couple of Polaris 4wheelers, mine 4 wheel drive (bless him) and my mom a 2 wheel one that had enough engine to get her around, but not enough to get her into too much trouble, lol. We had a blast on them but it didn't take long for me to be sick of following my dad and my bro on their bikes, eating their dust the whole way, my poor mom behind all 3 of us. So daddy started me out on a 1975 XR '75. Yep that's what I said, 75, 75. It was a heavy little buggar, metal tank and thick and solid as an army tank. We spent a weekend with shovels and made some jumps in the pasture behind our house, when we got bored of those, cinder blocks and particle boards baby yeah! We joined up with Ogden Cycle Association (our local motocross track) and put away our shovels and cinders. We met a 15 year old punk from California that was upgrading from the 80cc class to the big bikes, and Dad scored me his great running but heavily used '92 KX 80. I rode the hell out of it at the motocross track that summer and made a lot of great friends.
Utah is a dirtbiker's dream come true. You can hit anywhere in the state in just a days drive or less, and you have your choice of mountains with trails as far as the eye can see and crazy up/downhills that are just as fun on snowmobiles in the winter as they are on dirtbikes in the summer. You have the Sahara sand dunes with the famous sand mountain (fyi, I was a rather bit weighty to make my poor 80 climb that sucker
) An hour's drive from my hometown is the desert in which the historic locomotives Jupiter and 119 met and they drove the golden spike, it has wicked wide open desert and crazy washes. Just over the border to Idaho you have Tony's Grove and Saint Anthony dunes. We rode all of them, and I learned a lot. I blew up that poor bike that summer, learning to climb, but Dad got it fixed in a jiffy. In my decision that I preferred desert racing to moto-X, our family became a member of the Utah Desert Foxes, in which our club sponsored a couple USRA desert races each year. The members gaining a high percentage of race points for setting up the course, flagging, chasing the mini riders and escorting ambulace crews to the deserts most recent victims. We went to a Foxes race, my poor mom (who decided it was more fun to stay at home than to ride a 4wheeler with now 3 motorcycles leaving her in the dust) thought I was only going to help with sign up and hand out finishers pins. We took some contact paper out of the camper, and a half hour with some scissors and a sharpie marker, I created number plates, and raced in the boys 80cc class for the first time, sporting the number 911. Yup, we pulled a fast one on her. To be honest, dad pulled a fast one on me as well cuz I had no idea I was gonna race. Bless him for it, I probably would have wussed out. I crashed a countless number of times, got ran over, sported the K symbol from the handlebar mounts backwards on my belly, (I DNF'd that race) but never saw the inside of an ambulance. But I learned a lot of things, among lots of riding skill... #1 dad's not being an "O Ring" when he tells you to wear your helmet, even if you are only gonna go down pit row to the porta johns. I've seen people's eyeballs bleed from wrecks on pit row, a guy on a CR 500 trying to catch his boy on an 80. #2, don't preride the starting line in St. George without your boots and knee/shin gaurds. Cactus's hurt! Both lessons I plan on teaching my kids.
I know this is getting long, I'll try to hurry things up. I raced desert and played around with motoX my entire 7th grade through Senior year of high school, upgrading to an '89 KX 125, then to a brand new '97 YZ 125 (a gift for bringing home a straight A report card). I grew as a person. I met a lot of wonderful people, earned confidence in myself, I can do this even though I'm a girl, I mustered the courage to ride that bike like raped ape, excuse my language... get the wholeshot, climb that hill before the boys even get their boots on. I learned people skills, I can speak in public without one bead of sweat, I make friends easily and am not afraid to be myself. I learned patience to teach others new things, and to teach newbies that we were all there too, that I am good at riding because I'm a screwup, I've learned and paid for my mistakes, hopefully they won't have to learn the hard way with my influence. Of all the things I have gained from growing up with motorcycles, my relationships with my brother but mostly my dad, is my most cherished. Not only was he sponsoring me financially, the bikes, the gas money, the mileage on the trucks, the trailers to put the bikes in, the broken fenders and clutch levers, the new gear cuz I had to be in style and match my new graphics kit, the hotel stays and the food, the powerade and energy bars, the AMA and USRA membership fees, the race fees, and etc. Even with my sponsor, that crap adds up and adds up fast. His love and emotional support is what it was all about though... I wouldn't trade the roadtrip time or the look on his face when I made it to pit after my first loop in the rain, or the heat, or his proud stance and expression, with a bottle of gatorade waiting for me at the finish line. That's what it's all about my friend. I owe it all to him.
Years, a baby, a divorce, a new relationship and a marriage later, I met a man who I'm proud to say, loves this hobby as much as I. We went camping at one of my old riding haunts, and I damn near had tears in my eyes watching the guys on their bikes ride past on the trails. When we got home, we went to my parents, and dusted off the old YZ (Tawanda was her name) got the registration current and bought my hubs an oldie but goodie '94 KDX 250. We went riding just the two of us and I tried to teach him everything I know. We had a lot of fun, but in the midst of raising 3 children and both working full time jobs, it became very tasking to load them up on the trailer, load all the gear, drive to the riding destination (close to home or not) come home filthy and tired, and have gear to unload and muddy bikes to wash.
God love that man, he sold his Ford Focus and bought me Bad Romance, the shiny red Honda Shadow 750 American Classic Edition you will see if you look up my riding game posts. We sold my YZ and eventually came up with his 800 Vulcan.
We have shared many memories together and with friends, still meeting new friends along the way and have enjoyed it all. Check out our videos on youtube to see how much fun we're are having. (E & C Industries) Thanks for reading this, I hope my story can inspire the love of bikes to you and yours. Have fun and ride safe.
Carrie to the community officially! Your hubby, JackoftheGreen, is one of our star members and helps thousands of riders on TMW and I'm happy to have you along for the ride as well. 
