My hair is caught in the aggressive breeze as I step out and look over the MudPit track. I can’t wait to get out there.
“When do we hit the dirt?” Javi calls out, clearly excited, too.
“Tomorrow,” I reply.
“Wicked.” He pauses. “We passed a burger joint as we came in. Should we hit that up?”
Food. My vice.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply.
The motorhome is completely tricked up and has a nifty, custom storage/garage area at the back for the two motocross bikes. We have our equipment in there for the dirt bike testing, but we also were able to bring along a sports bike.
“I’ll suit up and take the bike to get food,” he says enthusiastically before he disappears. Several moments pass until he reappears from the storage area, and I need to cool my jets. He steps out in his full leather suit that has his team colours of grey and yellow, but no sponsors on the leathers except our manufacturer, Triumph, along his chest. He pushes out the bike and turns it on, filling the air with a sputter, the gravelly roar of the engine kicking into life as it warms up. His helmet is already on with the visor up, so I can only see his sultry eyes peering out. He winks at me before he throws a leg over the machine that rumbles underneath him. My insides clench.
He holds a gloved hand up and wiggles his fingers in a wave before flicking the kickstand up and puttering away. Finally, I release a deep breath before heading back into the motorhome. I haven’t had a great deal of time on my own, so it feels great having some space to myself. I sit at the front of the motorhome which I parked facing towards the track. The course is vast and nestled within the bush, so this is going to be the perfect place to test. I notice that there is not one shade of green that’s the same as the last as I scan the breathtaking panoramic sunset. My eye catches a motocross comp track to my right. My mind floods with the memories of my teenage years spent on these tracks, Mum close by my side, cheering me on. I smile and sit with these happy memories, enjoying the feelings they bring as a few tears escape my eyes before I wipe them away.
Thirty minutes pass by, and I hear the distant sound of the bike approaching before Javi puts it back away in the storage area.
He enters the motorhome, now out of his leather suit, and deposits the food out on the table. There is a lot.
“Over-ordered?” I ask, my eyes widening as I watch him continue to empty the bags.
“I ordered extra in case,” he offers, shrugging nonchalantly.
We sit down and eat together, making basic conversation and sharing my expectations for the testing coming up—nothing he doesn’t already know after spending the last three weeks working together. Two riders was a good idea on Rayna’s behalf. This cuts down some testing time and we can both compare our feedback and assessments, accelerating the testing process.
We get on the topic of Javi’s parents.
“How are your parents going? I thought you were going to head out to see them soon?” I ask.
“I was, but their cruise ship hit some bad weather. They needed to stay out at sea a bit longer than expected, so it threw off our timing,” he replies.
“That’s a shame. I know you were looking forward to seeing them.”
“It is what it is. I can’t change the outcome, I can only hope they are okay,” he replies.
A comfortable silence settles between us.
“Hitting the track first thing tomorrow?” he asks as he claps and rubs his hands together.
“After coffee,” I reply, raising my finger in the air.
“Of course!” he agrees. “Did you want some company tonight?” The wicked smile on his face makes me quiver.
I have to be open with him. “To be honest,” I reply, “do you think we should put the brakes on us? Get used to not being so close as we approach getting back with the team?” I ask.
“Would it be so bad if we were close coming back into the second half of the season?” he queries.
“I still don’t know what I want. I thought I would know after these few weeks, but I feel even more confused,” I say, not able to look directly at him.
“I don’t want to, but we can if you want the time?” he replies, his facial expression hard to read.
“Can we give it a go?” I want to make sure we are productive this week and I worry this will detour quickly. “And how about we give it until the end of season? Both of us should really be focusing on the championship and getting across that final finish line.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” he replies, now looking down.
He insists on taking the sofa bed in the motorhome’s lounge area and for me to continue staying in the bedroom.
