When I was a little kid my dad bought me a dirt bike. I road it for a year then I wanted to race it. So we looked up the dates for the next race and we found one that we could go to in st. Lewis. When we got there it was a huge place with a lot of bikes and pro riders . it was the coolest thing in the world, it was the awesome too just be there watching. Thank the Lord didn't have to race the fast guys because I was just a little kid. We got a registered for me to race. Once I got dressed it was time for me to race, so my dad took my dirt bike out side to warm it up. By that time I needed to be on the track. I got out there and was a lot of people in my class. I was a little nerves when I got out there but once we took I was fine. till the throttle stuck and I went threw the fence and off the track and landed on a concrete pad and knocked over some other peoples bikes. I broke the hand brake on my dirt bike. my dad went back to our pit and fixed it and about that time I was next to go out. I was so scared and I didn't want to go back out but my dad made me. He said if I didn't go out he was selling my dirt bike. I was so scared sitting on the staring line. Once we took of I wasn't scared any more. Maybe because I was leading and not thinking about crashing anymore. The race was over and I won. My dad and I went to go pick up my trophy. it was bigger than i was. I ended up sleeping with it that nigh because I was so happy I won. After that race I realized that crashing is part of racing and no matter how good you are you can still crash. And now racing is my life and I race as much as I can.