Page 28 - Issue_72

AARON PLESSINGER
250 SX / 1ST
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> It’s a cold, dreary day in the heart of Seattle. Rain, as always, feels the air, dampening the mood of those who call it home. A must of sadness overruns the town, as numerous citizens who reside here are needing that of a pick-me-up, something to truly make their adrenaline spike, and bring a boost of excitement through their veins. Well, they may be in luck, on this seventh day of April. As numerous motorcycle racers, those at the top-tier of their craft, have been selected to compete at CenturyLink Field, doing their best to put on a show for the dedicated fans. Always a crowd favorite, Aaron Plessinger yearns for instilling the dream of heroic like actions, into those who watch him. He can remember being that kid in the stands, the athletes he admired playing a superhuman role in his train of thought. Through hard work, dedication, and determination, his dreams came to fruition, and now it’s his turn to instill those qualities in the fans that look up to him. He would start in practice, by putting every ounce of effort into each individual lap. There wasn’t any rough housing or nonsense, he would just simply look forward, and attack this grotesque layout with a full head of steam. This prac- tice round was critical, as the track had been covered to savor every bit of dryness it could withstand, before the water would begin to overtake the course. He charged, launching the far side triple, railing the left-hander before it. Skying into the stratosphere of Seattle, he would swipe the roll-of lm, and immediately land, standing, diving into the upcoming left. He would cross the nal stipe, relatively un- scathed, and look forward to the heat race. The steal beams would then collapse for the heat race, as the eld would cause ultimate friction between their rear brake pads, and rotors, trying to search for the inside around turn one number one. He set in an optimum position early on, in order to penetrate these lines of array. He would place his mindset on charging forward in the early on, looking set the fastest times, rather than focus on the competition. It would work, as his frame would begin to drag through the far whoop section. His elbows, always remaining far and wide, wouldn’t let Justin Starling, anywhere near him! An astonishing fty-seven second lead! He knew who was back there, glanc-
ing out of his peripheral vision just before the triple, heading towards the start. He knew the job had been secured when the checkered ew, nishing rst. The main event was here, and as the cannon’s erupted with ame, so too did his desire to win. He quickly moved to the front of the pack, his vision throughout his goggles remaining relatively clean. Battling in the front in moments after the green ag, he knew he would have a good shot at claiming victory, if he could just stay upright. He felt pressure from Savatgy, all the while keeping pace with Mcelrath who was just near him. He wouldn’t falter, although the crowd of chaos around him seemed to deteriorate. His heart rate was rather high, not only due to the pace he was pushing, but rather the amount of mental fatigue he would accumulate, as this track was becoming so chewed-up. The minutes continued to tick down, and he would remain the jockey of the group. Knowing if he could just hold on as the white ag came out, victory would be his. He kept the pace, avoided any lapse of focus, and would cross the checkered ag, his hands in the air. Victory was his, after this obscure short, sprint of a main event.
28 GRITMOTO • APRIL 8, 2018