With the port of his exhaust oozing with smoke, Adam Smerdon would sit along the starting gate, frantically itching for his moment to begin this respective duel. He felt ready and capable, visualizing this particular instance for quite sometime; magnifying his target in the confines of the first turn, and looking to gallop out of the gates on top of his steed. Shifting that “bucking bronco” into gear, it would be that of the Schoolboy 2 (12-17) B/C race awaiting him first; where he immediately began to sprint around the ever-roughening Underground MX track. Slapping the shrouds with a bull-whip of sorts, you could see the dust trail behind him beginning to amplify; covering the adjacent crowd into a film of minuscule soil composition. Those particles, would have others gasping from breath; all the while he scurried away, to a relatively sound tenth overall. His true efforts though, would shine brightest in the 250 B classes; where a multitude of sound overall competitors awaited him. Scouring the line-up prior to take-off, many on the fence-lines knew that this would be an absolute battle royale; as numerous contenders, chose to throw their name into the hat for an overall championship run. The number forty-two exemplified excellent craftsmanship, especially in the latter race’s of the afternoon; where the sun would bake this pristine Texas composition. Although becoming littered with pot-holes, braking bumps, and jagged edges of all sorts, Smerdon’s ability to pinpoint the smoothest line would render him far above the vast majority of competition. His prerequisites of sharp-shooting, had him firing off rounds well into the top ten; placing in ninth in the first race of 250 B. Yearning to duplicate that course of action, he would launch over the myriad of large obstacles that were branded around the raceway; all the while holding off riders like Dylan Cunha, as they toggled over the sixth place residency. An illustrious conclusion to an overall “tip of the hat” performance, Smerdon would do what was necessary to clinch the matter of sixth overall as well. Then, it was time for the 250 B limited class to be bestowed upon him; where stock machinery, would be nestled under the frame of all his surrounding counterparts. He knew the field was even, and began to diligently prepare for the war that was about to take place. Sharpening the bayonet, he would plunge into the parameters of the first few corners; looking to separate himself from the field, with a slashing of the sword. One lap after another, he remained a staple at the front of the crowd; moving from eighth place in the early going, to that of the top five. Although finishing here, he knew that deep down, he had more in the tank. Shortly thereafter, the brackets would unleash the stampede yet again, and he simply wouldn’t oblige to anyone; yielding to all signs of surrender, and continued to volley forward with absolute reckless abandon. Now into the top two with only a few short circuits to go, he would trail only Levi Kitchen at the finish; being granted a noteworthy silver medal slot, as he rode-off into the Texas sunset.
Although a bit too young to recall the day’s of John Wayne, Adler Caudle would ride into the county lines of Underground seeking vengeance on the surrounding opposition in his respective congregation. Many would amass behind these forty(plus) starting gates, looking over their shoulder in unison as he revved his bike to the moon. His particular engine, that ever-so deafening roar, created a rumble that other’s simply couldn’t fathom; and not only would they adhere to his dictation, many would simply follow his respective path around the track. Never once, attempting to pass, or try and reflect his systematic movement patterns. Contesting both Mini Sr. classes, he understood the magnitude of the enemy; knowing that infantry may await him on the other-side of these monstrous jumps, but his outright courageousness would lend him to prevail when his machine would crash to the ground with an outpouring of speed and aggression. There were those on the outskirt’s of this architect-relic of a track, simply categorizing him as an “orange blur;” where a coupling of both surplussed RPM and daunting style, had his numerical branding quite hard to magnify. Nevertheless, he would combat the opposition for a various set of laps; holding numerous inside lines, while riders like Luke Fauser and Landen Gordon chased his rear fender. The fortitude he constructed was rather remarkable, especially when blitzing down the chop-ridden straightaways in an unfathomable fifth gear! Being ushered by his mechanic and accompanying crew, the first race placement of sixth, was definitely something to build off of. He looked at the next platform of racing as a mirror of sorts; believing that he could reflect what had just occurred, and place his number eighty-six machine into the top five overall. Becoming interlocked with that of Casey Cochran, the Floridian would wade his way through this lonesome prairie of Texas configuration; and Caudle’s ability to trail him was rather exceptional. Doing what was necessary for this particular race as well, the individualistic tally of multiple sixth place finishes, would garner him fifth, in the overall registry. Next on the docket of classes to conquer, was that of the Mini Sr. 2 category; where although the colleagues in his proximity were a bit older, he felt as though his particular set of skills could have him soaring to prominence once the checkered flag was waved. He could feel the chassis beneath him beginning to swap around at times; especially, when digging harshly on both the front and rear brake rotors. These gyrating cylinders of stopping-power were bubbling with absurd temperatures; all because of his pertinent throttle twisting, throughout every inch of the Underground course. Once again, putting forth an admirable showcase in that of the sixth position, his best result of the weekend would occur in the final round of the aforementioned class. Now being tabbed into the fourth spot, the overall accumulation of points, would bolster him to a fourth overall to begin the respective racing year. And although just a taste of the top five, you can guarantee that Caudle is hungrier than ever for success in the future.
What Mr. Scott lacks in age, he most definitely makes up for in that of expertise on the motorcycle. His wisdom is impeccable, and the hours of studying his favorite professional riders, are certainly coming to fruition when he climbs aboard his particular machine. Although in 50cc classes, you would think that Alan was tackling corners and jumps of all kinds, as though he were on a factory 450cc engine! There was simply few obstacles on this utopian Underground circuit, that could stop him; and that of the competition, wasn’t one of them. Throughout practice, Scott would rise to the top of timing and scoring; as numerous other racer’s and their pit crew’s, highlighted his name in imminent fashion. There was no question as to how much of a threat he was, and he could sense their fear, when rolling to the line for the first race of the 51cc (4-6) Limited class. Although riders from all around the globe had begun to surround him, his outlook remained glued on the path ahead. Whisking the throttle back and forth, you could sense the seriousness and solidarity he presented; all though his facial expression, would be masked by the shell of his helmet and respective vision apparatus. Names like Nightingale, Smart, and Rains, were there immediately as the field bundled within the first few corners; yet, rather than hover and stick to the inside, he would flock to a multitude of outer lines. Searching for a string of smoothness and breathing room, all the while running down the waving of the checkered flag. The Cobra’s, slithering as a harmonious unit, would hiss at one another; and any opposing rattlesnake that attempted to deter his pathway, was booted with authority while he sent the number sixty-one machine floating into the stratosphere. Now heralded into that of third, he was anticipating any even tougher road to the checkered, for race number two. Tearoff’s would be flying, and pellets of roost would ricochet off his chest; although riding with a bit of safety armor across his torso, sheer grit and a clinch of the jaw would be the qualities rendering him well through the storm. Attempting to dodge any trap set by familiar foe, it would come down to he, Smart, and Rains in the final moments of action. Putting his machine into fourth, a duplicate overall standing just inside the top five, would be sorted next to his name and number. The “E-Bike” mini class, was a realm of racing action where he absolutely thrived with astonishing finishes. The duo of both he and Kade Nightingale, were an immaculate group racing one another from start until end. Scott would hold his own, and then some; hitting the various tabletop’s and double jumps with throttle twisting capabilities few could imagine. And in doing so, not only would he register second in the initial “play-off;” but he too, would follow his first race result with a duplicate performance, this time, taking a silver medal back home to native city. None other than that of, Onalaska, Texas.
Although calling Georgia home, the Waldele crew exclaimed their excitement for this event many months ago; circling that of the “SPRING A DING DING” championship on their calendars, and making it a must-attend expenditure, for that of the 2020 season. Armed with Yamaha weaponry that would scare all in the field, he felt rather dignified to put his true abilities on display; making both his family and friends proud while competing on a national scale. Adapting rather fast in practice, you could see that he the number 674 had a certain knack for finding the smoothest lines; especially in the loamy parts of the track, furthest away from the starting gate. And although the bumps were already beginning to grow rather grotesque, he felt capable of defending both the track and opposition that combatted him; understanding the ability he harnessed, and what he was capable of once he was unleashed for the racing format. First on the ballot of classes, would be that of the 51cc (4-6) Special Limited class; a place where riders like Kade Nightingale, Deegan Sugamele, and Bensyn Levan would await him. He knew the competition would be valiant, but displaying extreme amounts of courageousness; nothing but raw power was then enacted through the throttle hand, twisting the grip to the utmost extent, while rummaging through the chaos in the initial portions of competition. Dodging a sea of yellow flags, he refused to become stagnant to the crowd that lingered ahead; and instead, improvise with adaptations of lines, that few others would even notice. Hitting the largest of sweepers standing on the foot-pegs, you could almost here the chassis bottoming out on occasion; yet his strength aboard the Yamaha machine, allowed him to soak up a rather large majority of the obstacles. And although a slight bobble on lap two would occur, the attrition was most definitely noticeable; getting him back to the seventh position, as all was said and done. For the duplicate course of action, the pack would fight all sorts of decaying variables; including the track, and racing atmosphere. Unlike anything they’d ever seen before, they braved the elements, powering their respective 50cc machines to unbeknownst heights while looking to tackle the checkered flag. Fourth once all was said and done, his final placement would certainly justify a sixth place overall. Now for the Shaft Drive Limited division, he was immediately delegated as an overall standout. Compiling multiple circuits of distinct harmony, he truly couldn’t be touched by riders that attempted to intervene from behind. And at absolutely no point, in either moto, would the Georgia native become discouraged; instead, rallying to a sweeping of the field, and significant placement of two first place overall’s. Earning one of the first titles of his career, was certainly a milestone; yet, instead of sitting back and relishing the accomplishment, an outpouring of both hunger and desire would then come. The number 674 machine has now designated himself as a threat to all in the 50cc division; where many have placed a bounty on his particular name, doing whatever it takes, to capture him.