Some guys get their kicks from flying a plane,
Or sailing the seven great seas.
The hunter will swear there's no greater sport
Than stalking his game through the trees.
Bulldogging a steer-- the cowboys all say,
Will thrill a man clean to the core;
But give me a bike in a moto-cross race,
And I'll not be askin' for more.

There's twenty-five bikes lined up for the start, 
Each rider determined to win. 
The roar of the motors is loud in my ears.
The race is about to begin.
The tension is rising-- the man gives a sign.
We've got just two minutes to go.
I feel my heart pounding as though it will burst.
Two minutes sure go mighty slow.

The ten second signal! The starting gate drops! 
Var-r-o-o-o-m! And we're off like a flash. 
Oh-oh! The black flag. We'll have to restart. 
There's half dozen guys in a crash. 
Once more we line up. The starting gate drops.
We're off! And the battle is on. 
If I can be first to round that first turn,
Then half of the battle is won.

We battle it out-- Twenty minutes in all. 
Up hill and down dale we all fly.
We bump, turn, and jump and we give it our all,
Each trying to be the lead guy.
No one will give up; but one guy's bike quits. 
Yellow flag-- means a rider is down. 
Go cautiously now; no passing until 
You're past where the man's on the ground.

One little mistake could easily mean
Your position is lost in the pack.
So give it your all-- Don't ever let down.
Once lost, it's too hard to get back.
No words can describe the wonderful thrill
You get going over the jump.
You feel just as free as the eagle on high.
But you come back to earth with a bump.

The white flag comes out, meaning just one more lap
Each man gives it all that he's got
For everyone wants to cross that line first. 
And finish in number one spot. 
That sweet checkered flag! The end of the race!
It feels, oh, so good to be done.
Each rider goes back to his spot in the pit
To find out what place he has won.

Some smile and some frown; but everyone's tired..
The tension begins to subside.
They check out their bikes-- make sure they're okay
To enter the next moto-ride.
The victory's sweet when all's said and done,
Just knowing you've taken first place. 
Let other guys fly their planes to the skies
Just give me', a moto-cross race!

Copyright Verda Mortensen Spivey (Now Allen)

My Mother Wrote This About Me After I Gave Her
A Few Notes On The Subject.  She Only Watched
Me Race ONE Time ~ It Scared Her TOO Much!