Page 54 - Issue_78

KYLE CHISHOLM
450 MX / 9TH
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> The Glen Helen sand is that of a love, hate relationship to many riders on the tour. Gone are the days of Supercross, where tracks were eerily similar, and the only sand on the tour was hauled in for a mere section or so. However, this composition is a tad bit different than sand in for instance, Southwick or Florida. A bit more gold, with a harder base, has riders looking at the layout in awe upon arrival. But after a few ruts are dug, and the berms have been pushed to the absolute brink of the track, you see this lime- stone and a bit of rock etched into the mountains, start to come alive. Kyle Chisholm had been used to this, as he’s dabbled onto the west coast scene for many years, whether it be throughout his amateur career, or on the professional tour. You could tell he’d been in an atmosphere like this before, while viewing him from the fencing in practice. Launch- ing off the double just after the nish line chicane, he roared into the small uphill while eyeing the audience. You could tell his con dence was sky high, and would translate into the motos that lay ahead. Off the start he went, and immediately would get a tad
bit pinched, heading into the right-hander. Looming near the fourteenth place ride in
the early going, immediately he began to be swarmed by competition like bumble bees. Pelted and stung with shards of rock and dirt clod, the sand would be sprayed in every nook and cranny of his helmet and goggle lining. Stretching over the double at the top
of the hill (the same place where Christian Craig had crashed earlier), he ducked to the inside, and secured thirteenth from Ben Lamay shortly thereafter. This position seemed to t his pace very well, as the timer would continue until it struck zero; and at the end of the race, his spot of best t would read eleventh. The thirty-second “Fly Racing” board was up, and as the card girl walked across the way, his vision gleamed toward the pad; in an instant he’d rounded the rst lap, and came through the crowd in twenty- rst place. Rubbing plastic with the likes of Cade Autenrieth you could tell things were getting a bit antsy, as his clutch lever, nearly clipped the front brake of the number 330 in the left- hander a few corners before the nish. This moto was a place of assertion, and he was doing just that, binding on the chassis as his brake pads squealed into the rotors. As the white ag would come about, you could almost hear the back wheel hiss, as he’d done so much charging throughout the thirty minute trial; he would come across the nish line in eleventh, good enough for ninth overall.
54 GRITMOTO • MAY 27, 2018