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JUSTIN BARCIA
450 MX / 4TH
IMAGE / LANNAN WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Coming into the Washougal national, Justin Barcia and team did an immaculate amount
of testing, in order to get the bike ring on all cylinders. Everything from tire selection, riding tracks that mimicked the soil composition of this northwest terror; to the engine mapping of
the 450, precisely calculating the most intricate display of patterns, meshing acceleration and outright speed in linear fashion. He knew he’d done the right thing, as a simple thumbs-up, had all parts of his team nodding in reassurance underneath the paddock for practice. They would get back to the truck, huddling together, coming to the conclusion that they were on the right path to success. The board would go sideways, and the eld would storm through the opening lap, as a scrunched together cloud of chaos; he would make a mistake, and come across the stripe eighteenth. Everyone seemed to be frantic in their charge to the front, as Justin Bogle led early on. The Suzuki, followed by the train of usual prospects, began to ounder, until a mistake gave Justin Barcia an increased position. Potholes began to increase, as the track began to get chewed up. He began to experiment with lines, as Benny Bloss continued to turn up the heat just behind him. Launching off the series of newfound singles, close to the mechanics area, he would scrub his machine to the left, trying to shave every millisecond possible. The footpeg, ripping into the face, would cause a drift of dirt to spray up, distracting the view of Blake Baggett who was now on his tail. He would continue to pull tearoff’s, with the stack beginning to dwindle away. The arms, ever so slightly lling with a bit of lactic acid, would force him to relinquish
his grip a bit over the in eld triple. He knew couldn’t subside his efforts for long though, as Baggett was closing in fast. Looking to throw the scent off his trail, he managed to salvage the fth position until the checkered ag. He wanted to mimic his effort from the rst audition, into the performance of the second trial, as the gate crashed to the ground. Chasing the dangling carrot of Roczen, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. If he could just weather the storm of Baggett yet again, this top ve overall could be secured. Wheeling his way through the whoop section, he was nagling his way through lap traf c, ducking and dodging anything thrown his way. As the white ag would be emerge from the agger’s booth, he decided to throw caution to the wind, simply going for it with the clock at zero. He would do enough, putting his stamp on the event with a fourth place nish, and fourth overall.
42 GRITMOTO • JULY 29, 2018