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JASON ANDERSON
450 SX / 1ST
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Behold, the largest herd of California wildlife has found themselves situated inside the boundaries of San Diego. The fiercest, most primal of them all, Jason Anderson, looks to exploit the weaknesses of his competitors, and feast on a scrumptious devouring of prey with lesser ability. He’s made his impact known throughout the course of the season, surpassing the bar set my many of his fellow competitors. His senses, so keen, that a mere wince from any rival whom his around, will alert the most aggressive of instincts. This lifestyle has embodied his inner being since he first sat foot on the professional tour, and the realm of San Diego, was just another place where he could impose his will on anyone who chose to battle. Beginning with practice, all systems began to fire as one unit. The track, seeming to be molded with a tacky substance at first glance, appeared to be holding its moisture throughout the duration of qualify- ing. From the get-go, he was experimenting with combinations and lines, as if he were a chem- ist in the lab; adding a little too much throttle here, and you deter in to disaster. Just the right amount of preload, and wa-la, these rhythm lanes seemed to be conquered with ease. Railing the right-hander prior to the whoop section, he was already in the standing, athletic stance, prior to embarking on the apex of the corner. Little excerpts like this, allowed him to gravitate to- ward the top of the leaderboard by session’s end. Heading into the heat race, his mentality was that of the green light. No hesitation for cross-traffic, he plowed through every obstacle attempt- ing to hinder his path. Wheel-tapping his way through the rollers, just before the small, gradual anthill, he was blowing out the outside berm, as if he were in the sands of Southwick. Mere seconds from the likes of Justin Barcia, it was smooth sailing out in front, and he would go on to finish first. As the motor began to climax from behind the gate, the pin would fall for the night’s finale. Launching over the metal bracket, his right arm was perpendicular to the earth beneath him, the 450 screaming for all it had. Within spitting distance of the most ferocious competitors, he looked to set sail, and establish a pace that couldn’t be matched. Skying over the back, to back “SX” triples, his chassis would be pushed into the wind, the swingarm swaying left into the coastal winds. Etching into the extremely low, fifty-second range, his machine would continue to take a beating; but his mentality, never faltering. Squaring up with the likes of Cole Seely on lap thirteen, and oulling from Justin Barcia and Marvin Musquin, his pace would be too strong when the race was in the latter moments. Squaring off the finish line berm, he would look to hold off their intensity, lunging for the checkered flag. He’d done it, the champagne ready to uncork, and already eager for the next round.
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GRITMOTO • FEBRUARY 11, 2018