Dirt Quake USA

Rising up over the machine gun sounds of motorcycle exhaust and dirt and beer the sasquatch voice of Ray Gordon growls some undecipherable words. A reptilian on a dirt bike weaves through the crowd flipping me the bird, as I find my lips pursed to the end of a Jim Beam bottle, the only thing keeping me consistently on the right path to insanity. With more tattoo ink and alcohol in their veins than blood and water the encampment is a myriad of costumed and leather bound motor junkies. The smell of too much beef grilling near a monster van, kids squealing as they bomb between tents on mini bikes, a barb wired fence that keeps Danger Ehren and his gang imprisoned from the rest of the masses, and all the while Thor Drake laughs like a child as he rides a slice of pizza with ape hangers around the Castle Rock flat track. This was the epicenter and home for Dirt Quake USA a place where any bike and anyone can express their urges and desires to race and be free. -David Frost-