Page 16 - Issue_63

JASON ANDERSON
450 SX / 4TH
IMAGE / LANNAN WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> There’s nothing quite like the skies that preside over the Arizona landscape. Something about the orange, ripple effect that stretches as far as the eye can see, captivates everyone beneath it. It’s a state that seen the hottest of days, and the coldest of nights, with the mountain- ous area providing a home to all types of wildlife. Many citizens of the state pride themselves on being tough, rugged, and willing to endure the elements; and it’s the same with Jason Anderson, as he feels no matter what condition, layout, or outside variable is presented, he can come away at the front of the field. This attitude was replicated in his practice efforts, being one of the first
to get on the track, and truly attack it’s surface area. Periodically, he would slow down, looking to scope the other alphas in the division, watching them create lines of magnificence along this Phoenix canvas. His image, plastered upon the big screen that sat above the raceway, show- cased his blistering speed, as he would gravitate towards every outside line the track provided. Tossing the chassis around as if it were a ragdoll, you could almost classify his style as a pure “manhandle”; it would be enough to provide a solid gate pick for the heat race. The field would then swarm into the opening bend, down this notoriously long start straight. Fighting off the likes of Malcolm Stewart and Weston Peick, their shrouds seemed glued together at one point, the fumes of one exhaust being whisked through the snout of the fellow competitor. Flicking the swingarm to the left over the far triple, he was putting a valid stamp on his efforts by looking over at all in attendance; this race was simply his after the early going. With this rather short duration of an event, he eyed the referee at the scorer’s tower, going on to finish first. All heads would then bow in unison, eyeing the pin that held up their respective gate; and in a flash, they would crumble, the bikes ripping mother earth to her core. Sorting through the vast array of colors that made up this main event field, he found himself attempting to blitz the whoop section in the early going, yet always having to watch the fender that was just ahead. Forcing himself
to soak up the following double, he would stay a gear tall through the bowl turn the preceded, looking to launch in to the rhythm lane prior to the finish line. The statement of “keep pushing” reiterating through the lobes of his brain, kept the throttle pinned, with the heart rate continuing to climb. A slight mistake, that of a washout in the early going; seemed to halt his momentum. With his lap times staying relatively consistent, he and Marvin Musquin began to mimic each other; a monkey-see, monkey-do effect if you will. And although at times it felt as though the wrath of King Kong were behind, he remained consistent and would hold on to fourth for the final circuit of action.
16 GRITMOTO • JANUARY 28, 2018