It only took 10kms after crossing into America before our brand new Sprinter blew a tire. It was most likely a Canadian screw that was sticking out of the rubber considering we loaded the choppers at the most used workspace in Vancouver. After jacking up the rear of the passenger van with the 3 old-ass motorcycles in the back, we drove another 5 hours south toward Castle Rock, Washington.
This isn't just any old oval race track... it is dozens of young biker freaks from all over the country racing their choppers, cafes, 3-wheelers and everything else unsafe and not made for a classic race track. We set up our tents, drank a couple cheap American beers and passed out.
The races included divisions such as Harley motors, ladies, lawnmowers, snowmobiles and choppers-only. It was carnage. We watched a dude fully get thrown off his chopper only to get ran over by a massive enduro driven by a guy in a chicken costume. Then there was the flying slice of pizza and then the Harleys who started hitting a big dirt jump in the center of the track.
The Rusty Butcher dudes were there doing what they do best, ripping around a track and hitting random piles of dirt as table-top jumps.
The ladies class was rad as usual. Tori from See Sees took the gold medal even though the bike she practiced on shit out on her and she rode the HD 750 that she had never been on before. That chick rules.
Our lead-hand Sam took gold in the vintage classic devision of the Pro series the night before Dirt Quake took off. He rode the track both days and made Canada look rad.
The weekend ruled. Dirt Quake 2015 highlights: drunk racing around barrels at 2am, the truck that pulled the boat crash (I was somehow in the back of this truck...) the above bike & it's owner, the flying 3-wheel pizza, the river, Kiki and her boobies, motorcycle babes of America and the dirt that still lives between my toes.