Page 22 - Issue_sixtyfive

JUSTIN BRAYTON
450 SX / 6TH
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Each layout on the Supercross circuit, provides an array of challenges and obstacles. Some, to the pleasure of both crowd and racing community, others, not so much. As a designer, you must provide something that creates good racing, yet pleasing enough to catch the “oooh’s” and “ahh’s” of the mainstream fan. The casual, loving the skyscrap-
ing jumps; the diehard fan, loving the one hundred eighty degree bowl turns, for ultimate block passing; and the racer, begging for the steepest set of whoops possible, as this particular section could be an outlier, separating the elite from the mediocre. San Diego provided a layout that would prove to keep the pack bunched up, and based off the prac- tice times, Justin Brayton knew that every inch of course would be used, and each mil- lisecond accumulated, could result in a difference of first or fifteenth. Throughout practice, you could really see him honing in on his fundamental techniques, keeping the right elbow cocked, and up against his torso. Always staying on the balls of his feet, he would plan- tarflex into the peg, as he would wheel tap through these sand moguls, adjacent to the start straight. Pushing the ring and piston of his 450 to the absolute maximum threshold, he would cross the finish line, riding into the tunnel; looking to move ahead for the night show. The heat race would provide a platform adrenaline, as he would bar-bang into the first corner. Asserting himself as one of the alphas in this wolfpack, his lines through the optioned corner, proved he could hit both lines from afar, and still remain intact with the field. With Weston Peick knocking at his door, it was an absolute must that he remained poised on the finish; he would do so, bringing home sixth place. With the main event underway, he would have to stay calm, with all that these twenty minutes, plus one lap would bring. His heart rate would climb, but with the mechanic signaling “breathe” every so often, his techniques throughout the week would come to fruition. “This is only a sprint, this is only a sprint,” he would mutter, as the laps began to dwindle. The track was truly to the stadium floor, his rear tread mimicking a street-bike tire at Laguna, the complete oppo- site of its manufacturing label. Flicking over the first triple, around the fifteen-minute mark, he could feel the pressure surmounting behind. It was Weston Peick, and he would have to remain consistent, in order to fend him off. Shutting the door prior to the finish line, the white flag would come around, and the boiling point would almost be reached. But at the last second, the stovetop would be turned off, and his sixth place would resonate, as he would cool down beneath the canopy.
22 GRITMOTO • FEBRUARY 11, 2018