Page 54 - ISSUE-81

BENNY BLOSS
450 MX / 9TH
IMAGE / LANNAN WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> In motocross, there’s a certain team aspect that can’t be forgotten or mistaken. A team that assembles both rider and machine, putting all efforts into perfect unison and speci c combination. However, once all is said and done, and the bike is loaded behind the gate, it’s up to the competitor to determine how well his result is at the end of the day. Benny Bloss realizes that, and coming into Muddy Creek, wanted to leave abso- lutely zero excuses on the table. He started by putting down some absolutely blistering times in practice, leaving everyone in his corner con dent, that a solid day would ensue. Coming back to the truck, the bike would be washed, and team would discuss just how to distribute a game plan for the rest of the afternoon. Moto one would commence their plans, as he shot out of the gate like a rocket, and immediately grabbed third and fourth up the start straight. With roost pellets being cemented on his front number plate, his po- sition in the rst few laps would migrate around the seventh place mark. Wheel tapping his way up the Fly Racing uphill section, he and Justin Hill could be seen whipping their chassis towards each other, doing their best to shave speed with charismatic are. He would then blitz by the mechanics area, merely glancing at the pit board, as it resembled a white blur in his peripheral vision. The checkered ag was merely just around the cor- ner, and although he could hear the faint rumblings of Henry Miller behind, he wouldn’t waver, coming across the checkered in ninth. Before he knew it, moto number two was here and underway, as the eld slammed into the inside of the left-handed rst turn. With the green ag waving, he sat in fourth, looking to penetrate the eld as best he could. The front fender would act as his bayonet, slicing both tires and jersey in close proximity. With the sword sharpened and battle shield strapped to his chest, he went head rst into battle. The rst opponent in contact would be that of Weston Peick, a rampant combat- ant looking to go straight for the kill. With rocks acting as grenades, a mere cannon like boulder pelted off of his radiator, yet the aluminum would withstand the blast. He had enough, and after laps of migration, he would separate, leaving just a few short rounds left before the nish. Eighth place position was now his for the taking, if he could just hold on. He would do so, and viewing the results sheet at the end of the day, he would be placed in ninth overall.
54 GRITMOTO • JUNE 24, 2018