Weekend at the Point...Sears Point
a.k.a. Infineon Raceway
Memorial Day Weekend 2006

Hello race fans! Yes, race season is upon us and our ol' friend Thomas P. Higgins (a.k.a. Uncle Tom , a.k.a. P. Higgi) has begun a new season of AFM racing. For those not in the know or lingo, Tom races motorcycles in the 250 cc class on the American Federation of Motorcyclists circuit. And what better way to support our beloved friend than to make up some Fat Chicken Racing t-shirts, dust off (Out?) the tent, grab the family and camp atop the blacktop in the pits of Sear Point. Classic. But seriously, it was a very cool weekend of races, crashes, friends, crashes, food and crashes. I was informed by a somewhat reliable source (Tom) that there were 77 crashes in 2 days of racing, 7 of those resulting in a trip to the ER via ambulance. Wow. It was more like a Helmet Durability Test Site than racing.

But you all want to know - how did our boy do? Let's start from the beginning, shall we...

Let me reintroduce you to our boy, Tom. He has dubbed his "team" Fat Chicken Racing. Nice. The problem? He wanted some t-shirts made up for the weekend but, alas, Ink Monkey was completely swamped. Solution? Surprise the boy with iron-on transfer tees. A $5 Old Navy tee x's 5 + a $15 pack of transfers + 1 hot iron = A big, fat smile from the big, fat chicken. He dug 'em.

Hey, wait! I recognize that girl...it's Ming!! The beloved girlfriend of Tom was in on the tee surprise and more than willing to bunk it (tent it) at Sears Point to support the chicken. Ming Fact: She knows more about motorcycle racing (the people, the numbers, the bikes, etc.) than one woman should know. Remember, she did graduate from Brown and Harvard. Loser.

Tom and Terry chattin' it up before Tom's first race of the weekend. A lot of hangin' and waitin'...

Jack was MOOOOORREEE than eager to help his Uncle Tom with ANYTHING. Notice the headlamp worn by Jack, just in case an eclipse is looming close by.

Tom gearing up for the race. He has to get his tights on before the actual race suit. Tights?!? Ya, I know...sissy boy.

An I Love You/Be Careful hug from Ms. Chicken.

For Christmas we're going to chip in and get Tom a bike that starts without pushing. Hey, you gotta take off whatever extra weight you can, which is why Tom uses his Flintstone feet for stopping.

As you can see, Hank as primed and ready is his seat, though he did forget his t-shirt. Hank was more than willing to hang and watch the race.

There he goes, sports fans! All tucked up and made for speed. Tom is never lacking for speed, just a little help in turns 8 and 9. Tom broke his collar bone on turns 8 and 9 on this track last year. The average rider would've run screaming for the pits, but not our boy. He was back out there gunning for a top finish...until his shifter broke on the practice round. Are you fucking kidding me?!? Needless to say, none of us got in his way back at the compound. Please send beer.

A look at our fine social accommodations. I mean, come on, isn't this just a lil' slice 'o heaven?

6:30 AM - What the HELL was I doing up?!? Friggin' body clock. But at least I got a pic of the living quarters before tear-down. Like I said, fine accommodations.

Jack took every opportunity between races to tear it up in the dirt just above the race track. Around and around he went, grinning the whole time. The boy LOVES to ride. Awesome.

So Ming doesn't ride...yet. She's jonesin' for a dirt bike and thought that something in the range of a Honda 50 would be the right size. Come on, Ming, you can go a little larger than that. And you can add tassles to ANY bike. I think Tom has her talked into at least a 250. I'll keep you posted.

But it was daddy'o who stole the show with his immitation of a circus clown. The Honda 50's are the pit bike of choice in the circuit. I think Terry was just lookin' to fit in.

"Do one thing that scares you everyday." Eleanor Roosevelt