Johnny G

By Johnny Gallagher

Full circle
Hello again and welcome to the world according to Johnny G. Just lean back in your chair, crack open a cold one (Pepsi if you’re under 21, or at work) and plunge yourself deep into the world of four-wheeled fantasy.

Have you ever heard that old saying, “things come full circle”? At age 23 I have just experienced that very phenomenon. When I first started racing 15 years ago, the pure enjoyment of racing was all I could think about. I used to love to go to the race track. I always wanted to be the first one there, and then the last one to leave. It never really seemed to matter what exactly I was doing, all that mattered was that I was at the track, where everything revolved around ATVs, where there was never a shortage of action. Back then in my career, racing wasn’t about winning, it was about the joy of competing, and hanging out with my racing buddies. Wait a minute! I just got a little carried away in that last line, with the whole joy of competing thing. Who am I kidding? It was always about winning, but even when I didn’t win (ya know, when the girl would beat me), it still beat the hell out of sitting through another day of school – or doing anything else besides being at the races for that matter. I loved to race, there was no part of it I did not enjoy. I even liked to wash the muddy bikes when we got home for God sakes, (note to all of you parents who have kids that ride: Teach them that pressure washers are fun, and you will never again have to wash their quad, or yours, or the garage door, or garden tractor – well you get the idea). This lasted from about age 5, until I was about 16, then the whole idea of making a career out of racing started to pollute my mind. (2nd note to parents: If your child starts to talk about racing as a job — ground them indefinitely ans make them go to college).

Suddenly riding wasn’t just about riding, it was about testing, and practicing. This wasn’t so bad though, and all the hard work seemed to be paying off I was progressing quite well. I was ready to move into the 250 A class, by the time I turned 17. The last two years of high school are a blur, but I do remember that I spent many hours in study-halls daydreaming about the riches and fame that surely lie ahead for me as a professional racer. My dream was to ride in the big stadiums, jet-set across the country, and have kids line up to get my autograph, hell I even used to practice my Johnny Hancock, between math assignments of course. That was 1994-’95, I turned pro in march of ’96. After a rocky first year as a pro I found my groove and eventually did all of the things I had spent those study-hall hours dreaming about. Everything except the riches and fame thing that is. As it turns out there isn’t much of either of those to go around in this sport. Although, I did get recognized on a plane once on the way home from a Pace stadium race. Although I wouldn’t trade a day of the racing for anything I do know that I definitely started to resent the fact that racing was running my life. That was pretty cool.

A few months ago it all hit me. Why was I doing this if I wasn’t enjoying myself? This question took a long few months to answer, but I eventually did come up with it. I was still racing because I remembered how fun it used to be, and I was trying to regain that but had no idea how. Racing had ceased to be fun because I wasn’t performing as well as I knew I should be, but the whole reason why I wasn’t doing well was because I wasn’t having fun. Are you confused? Stick with me here. My desire to excel was hindered by the most basic idea, that had brought me so much success, it must be fun! Racing is a game that cannot be mastered, but only played. When I realized this I knew exactly what it would take to get back into the swing of things.

Fast forward to today. In order to regain the basic enjoyment of racing four-wheelers, as well as win as many races as possible, I have surrounded myself with people who live to race. Although it is still early the results of my “full circle” so far have been amazing. I sold my 250Rs, bought a 400EX that I will race this upcoming season in the GNCCs, and am having more fun than I have in years. My objective is simple, I want to go win races. A change of pace works wonders for your mural. So far I am batting 1000 on this, as I won the first race on the new thumper yesterday. The Bike was bone stock, with the exception of a Keihin 39mm carb, and a HMF engineering slip-on silencer. Granted this was no national, but there were a few fast guys there, and I had never even ridden the thing before. You know, baby steps. Next step a Mid-South event in a few weeks. I’ll let you know how it all turns out.

You name the contest
Now on to the stuff you really care about. I am planning on doing a contest in the next column, so I need you guys to e-mail me some suggestions on what type of contest you would like to have. Send them to me at johnnyg@atvscene.com The originator of the online contest that I choose will receive their very own copy of Huevos IV, an ATV Scene sweatshirt and a Carb Parts Warehouse T-shirt, so get those on the way. The grand prize for the contest winner is in the works, and looks like it could be pretty worthy. So go put your thinking caps on and come up with a kickin’ contest of all contests.

Fun with rental cars
Trinitiy’s Harry McDermott, ATVaftermarket owner and ATV racing legend now turned rental car racer.Back by popular demand is the comedy section of the Johnny G column. You might have noticed or perhaps you’re one of racers that have an addiction for rental cars. Did you see the original Heuvos Grande? If so, then you know what I’m referring to. Truth be told, I have no less than 10 crazy stories involving various riders, and industry people who have had some type of comical rental car experience. Unfortunately I do not have their permission to print these escapades, so I will stick with the ones I was directly involved in. The story you are about to here was chosen not for the severity of the incident, but rather the perpetual nature of the mischief that this vehicle was involved in.

At first glance it looked like any other 1999 Chevy Blazer, but this bad boy was destined for great adventures from the minute Harry McDermott of Trinity Racing sat in the driver seat. We were in Pontiac Michigan for the Pace stadium race at the Silverdome. After practice on Friday the whole Trinity team went out for a nice relaxing dinner at a local brewery and restaurant. After dinner most everyone went back to the hotel, with the exception of Harry McDermott, Mark Erhardt, Steve Owens, and yours truly. After a short bar-hopping stint we found a place that had dueling pianos, and we were hooked. We stayed until close, and then decided to stop in this after hours joint across the street. When the time (4:30am) finally came for us to return to the hotel, it was snowing like hell, and the roads were covered in 5 inches of snow. Since the other three individuals were all from sunny California, I offered to drive, but was quickly interrupted by Harry, who informed us that he had grown up in Canada. Needless to say Harry took the helm. The Blazer was four-wheel drive so what could possibly go wrong?

I probably should have started walking, but instead I got in. I must admit that it was quite funny listening to three grown men carry on about how fun it was to broad slide through an intersection. After a number of minutes of ripping through Pontiac it occurred to me that we had no idea of where we were, or how to find our hotel. That didn’t matter though. All that did matter was getting the Blazer up on two wheels. You see, if we slid just right onto a patch of dry pavement, we could two-wheel it like a stunt man. As we drove down this side road that Erhardt was sure led back to the hotel, we came upon an intersection with a car coming from each of the other three directions. The strange thing about this scenario was that there was nothing that indicated we needed to stop, or even yield. All this became clear when Steve pointed out that the one-way sign we passed was not pointing the way we were headed. This point was reaffirmed moments later by the Pontiac policeman who was sitting across the intersection from us. Luckily Mark convinced him that we were on our way from the airport to the hotel, and had simply taken a wrong turn. If I recall correctly he omitted the fact that we had just driven over numerous front laws, medians, mailboxes, and pretty much anything else that had snow covered on it. After our near disaster with Pontiac’s finest, I thought Harry would chill out for the remainder of the ride back, WRONG! 80MPH on the freeway which was still covered in the aforementioned 5 inches of snow. Finally, 8 snow banks (that Harry used to test the truck’s jumping ability), 4 wrong turns, and 20 minutes later we arrived at the hotel, where we proceeded to give the old Blazer one last hurrah through the snow-covered field surrounding the parking lot.

To wrap up this lengthy tale of rental car hi-jinx Harry proceeded to get the Blazer stuck in a 25 foot snow bank the following day at lunch not once, not twice, but three times before the restaurant manager called the police, and we were forced to make a speedy exit. Good thing Harry lives in So Cal. So if you ever call Trinity for anything and you talk to Harry, ask him why they call him “snow bank”, He might even give you a discount.

Until next time,
Johnny G -out

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