See The Battlefield, and there are so many …
- A Relaxed Seat
Soft Eyes, Tense Carriage, Breathing, Balance. An experienced horse-breaker, she said that it reminded her of how one should ride a horse with “soft eyes.” There’s also a phenom “Centered Riding,” the description of which (below) could apply directly to your tuition and which reminds me of the static drills we did at VIR.
- Light Lines and Peripheral Vision
Early in my days vic Barstow California, at the US Army National Training Center as a young Poor-Bloody-Infantry (PBI) officer, I took my top-less Hummer out one zero-moon night past the Bicycle Lake Airfield (BYS) light-line.
Five miles up the Colorado Wash I tried to find a trail that Captain Welks had shown me. I failed to do so. I zigged, zagged, crossed, re-crossed, looking directly for the trail. Fuck.
Fuck it. I quit looking for it, toddled my Hummer down the wash. Damn. Right out the corner of my eye. I gunned and slid my way to the Coyote Cut laager site where I linked up with a company of 82d Airborne soldiers. Turns out it’s all about optical Rods & Cones, but it makes a better story when shrouded in mystery.
- See The Battlefield :: ( Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain )
The last point has to do with a notion I have about drawing the track. It is closely related to the Track Recce that we did that first morning with your control riders showing the lines. Every Infantry soldier knows the term “Sector Sketch.” It’s a pain-in-the-ass. Nobody ever explains to a soldier the real value — which is a careful examination of the terrain. For example, Ian Mc could tell you that photographing can teach you to look at space differently. You could say the same about learning from Mike how to fly your Spitfire IV.
Drawing, however, takes it even further. Hence, the Sector Sketch requires a soldier to look at the 120 degrees of ground fronting his foxhole, to find the deadspace, to find the avenues of approach, to decide where to emplace concertina wire and claymore mines.
I was not the best Infantry land navigator. I was quite terrible. I had trouble picking up the patterns and distinguishing between subtleties in the central Georgia terrain. I required remedial training.
I also apparently required a come-to-Jesus meeting with the Commandant of the Infantry School. Colonel Davis informed me that I was not looking long as a LEADER OF MEN if I didn’t soon learn to find my ass with both hands.
I worked hard at it with Colonel Damewood on Yankee Road as the Saturdays cooled in the fall of 1988. He taught Terrain Association as opposed to Dead Reckoning. I learned that drawing the terrain forced me to really look at it. I learned too that eyeballing it backwards gave me an even clearer feel for its ass-to-ankle contours.
That last lonely November Saturday night instead of being at the strip clubs on Victory Boulevard, I ran jungle-booted in a red-lens-lit, pissing-down, rain-creek-crossing, final do-or-die examination. I had no further meetings with Colonel Davis.
4. Virginia International Raceway
So, back to the track. Snapping drawing, walking, crawling, roller-skating, pogo, stilts, licking . . .
That first morning at VIR was one for Terrain Appreciation and Terrain Profiling. I took a pad, walking and drawing the interior of the track. Slogging uphill and slipping down the dew-soaked grass showed me where the gradients were, like at Turn #7. I wish I had had time to do the same walk backwards. Had I a 1-speed bicycle at the time I would have ridden it, to get the real character of the gradients.
Anyways, just some thoughts I wanted to share, and to let you know that your book makes ripples beyond bikers. Best to the missus and Emma Peel
Sincerely
Justin Giron
scrotocycles.rip 