Holeshot
The Bastard Child of Cycle Speedway
By Dan Powell
Prologue
It is 3am on Sunday August 29th. I’m drunk, alone and standing next to three empty kegs on a bicycle flat track in a darkened warehouse in North Portland. A few hours ago hundreds of fans lined the boards surrounding the track. They pounded their u-locks on the boards and shrieked for blood. Over the course of the evening 50 racers went elbow to elbow in Backyard Blam’s Holeshot race. There were crashes. Blood was spilled. The penultimate moto. Victory. It was awesome. Now I’m left here to clean up the mess, but that is the last thing on my mind. All I can think of is how did we get here, and do we do this again? This was truly the bastard child of Cycle Speedway.