Page 46 - Issue_66_final

AUSTIN FORKNER
250 SX / 7TH
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Coming into the Dallas round, Austin Forkner wanted to assert himself as a threat for the series crown. He was ful lled with the aura of the surrounding Dallas metropolitan area, embodying his inner, “Walker, Texas Ranger.” Knowing just how much of an outlaw Chuck Norris was, he felt if he could simply ash his badge to all competition, they would crumble on spot, and bow, giving him the highly coveted race win. All jokes aside, he knew he’d worked too hard in the off-season to bow down to the opposition, and with every day before being seemingly marked off his calendar, all of the bottled in emotion would be uncorked. For practice, he was one of the rst to jump the triple jump after the whoops, and adding a triple combination through the section after the start. Everything seemed to be ring as one, and he was then ready for the night festivities to begin.
The track was beginning to slicken throughout the heat race, yet his riding style was adapting. Railing the likes of these bowl turns, any particular rut he could nd, he was attempting to dig in. The whoops were beginning to wear down, and his chassis would swap side to side, yet the right hand remained pinned to the waf e grip. Jousting with the likes of RJ Hampshire, there was no backing down from Forkner; he would end up bringing home the rst place ride, knowing he had some work to do. The main event had a gurative cloud of smoke cast over the crowd, Forkner would go down in turn number one, and be left distraught. The contenders were so hell bent on establishing an early lead, that there would then be a subsequent traf c jam for those in the midst of the pack. Fighting tooth and nail through this slippery raceway, he was absolutely ripping around the inside rut, after the nish; just on the narrowest edges of the opening right-hander. Scraping plastics with the likes of Brandon Hartranft, he would continue to work, lap after lap. Never looking over his side, he knew that he must stay glued to the nal ag, in or- der to hold the seventh position down. He would try to relax through the smooth rhythm section, just before the largest triple on the track. A mere tuck of the right elbow, and a slight dangle of the right foot, showed how comfortable he was, yet he remained urgent; even up through the last triple, he knew he had done just enough, crossing the nal ag ahead of eighth place on the evening. Disaster had struck, but he weathered the storm; he was looking forward to next week.
46 GRITMOTO • FEBRUARY 18, 2018