Page 10 - Issue_63

JUSTIN BARCIA
450 SX / 2ND
IMAGE / LANNAN WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Although the sun surrounds the globe and the entirety of its duration, there’s one place in particular in which the idea of the glistening rays are truly soaked in. The aforementioned, detailing the city of Phoenix and their NBA franchise, has been a sta- ple in Western Conference play for decades. Every so often, a star seems to emerge from these courts, relishing the hard work and dedication of Arizona culture. Justin Barcia hoped to embrace this idea, upon his flight landing at the airport. Walking to the beat of his own drum, he nodded as the referee signaled for the herd to flock down
the start straight, and explore the layouts of qualifying. His rhythm seemed to be a tad different than most, exploring a few different triple combinations in the distant timing section. All in all, the hopping would pay off, as he and mechanic were fist bumping from their departure of the tunnel, to the semi. The heat race had gone according to plan; get to the front of the field, and make the main event. Pushing the pace in the early going, he skied over the far triple, landing with his right foot out and leaping into the next lane. Going into the whoops a gear taller than most, his footpeg was nearly clipping the tuff-block lining, yet his vision would remain just in the foreground of his front fender. Jousting with the likes of Eli Tomac and Josh Grant, he would bring home the fourth place finish. He would time the gate drop in the main event as if he were a dragster in the NHRA, stabbing the clutch with the green light signaling “go.” Yanking the laminate tearoff stack one by one, his elbow and wrist repetitively waved through the opening laps. Landing off the first triple, he would slowly push down the suspen- sion, getting ready to leap into the next series of singles, prepared to tuck in to the next right. The track was slowly deteriorating, the clay breaking way to the spit-shined concrete like base. Holding off the likes of Ken Roczen, it was a game of mental war- fare, seeing who would budge and break first. It wasn’t he, as he constantly relayed the message of “one more lap” to himself; that time would come, and although the lead was just out of grasp, he would place second across the stripe, pleased with the result of the evening.
10 GRITMOTO • JANUARY 28, 2018