Team Shelby MX

🏁 Weekend Race Recap: Lincoln Trail Motosports 🏁 MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND
Speed, heart, and pure grit at Lincoln Trail this weekend! 🪵💨
We brought absolute heat to the track for the 3-moto format. The starts were dialed in, the jumps were on point, and the riding was some of the absolute best we’ve ever seen from him. He showed front-runner speed all weekend long!But as any racer knows, motocross can be brutal. We ran into a streak of crazy track chaos and bad luck in every single moto that hid just how fast he really was. He spent the weekend fighting forward from the back of the pack, proving he has the heart of a champion!Here is how the battle unfolded:🏆 7-9 Class (18th Overall out of 43)Moto 1: Ripped an incredible start and was charging hard inside the Top 8! 🚀 Unfortunately, a brutal, deep rut swallowed the bike. Got completely stuck and dropped a whole lap waiting for the track crew to pull it out, fighting back to cross the line 31st.Moto 2: Another great jump off the gate, but got tangled up in a massive pile-up right at the holeshot turn. Dropped to the absolute back of the pack, but put his head down, made a million passes, and clawed his way up to a heroic 18th place! 🛠️💪Moto 3: Finally got a cleaner track to show his true speed! Rode a smart, aggressive race to lock down a fantastic 11th place finish—his best moto of the class!🚀
Open Class (22nd Overall)The Chaos: Talk about a battlefield! Every single moto in the Open Class was a war zone filled with heavy pile-ups.The Fight: In one of the motos, the carnage was so bad he got launched completely over the handlebars! 🤯 But a true rider doesn't stay down. He bounced right back up, remounted, and kept charging.The Scores: Battled through the wreckage to go 26-19-20 for a hard-earned 22nd overall!The Takeaway: The overall scores don't even begin to show the true speed he had this weekend, but they proved something better: he has zero quit in him. Huge thank you to the track crew, family, and everyone cheering us on in the pits. We are taking this speed, resetting the luck, and getting ready to dominate the next one! 😤👊🔥
Huge shout out to our sponsors
Selph made concrete ( Gary Selph )
Kyles Krew Mx training
Pitter Nation
Onium
JD Performance

Me and my little brother getting our mullets freshend up 🤙🤘
We gotta stay fly over here

** The Parents View**

Everyone loved the last post so we changed point of views for this one

Friday at 4:30 PM is the longest hour of the week. You’re punching the clock at work, but your brain is already halfway home, mentally backing the truck up to the trailer. You aren't headed for a "relaxing" weekend—you’re about to trade your 9-to-5 for a 24/7 gig as a mechanic, coach, chef, and human ATM.The real race starts the second you pull into your driveway. It’s a frantic blur of hooking up the camper, triple-checking the tie-downs, and tossing that last gear bag in before the sun goes down. You finally hit the road, navigating a maze of trailers by the glow of your high beams at 10:00 PM. You set up camp in the dark, tripping over rocks and trying not to wake the neighbors, finally crawling into bed for four hours of "moto sleep"—which is mostly just lying awake wondering if you remembered to tighten the axle nut.Then, Saturday morning hits. You’re standing at the fence, and the "Parent Lean" kicks in. You know the one—you’re tilted so far sideways you’re practically horizontal, trying to physically pull your kid through the first turn with your mind. The gate drops, that roar of engines hits your chest, and for thirty seconds, you completely forget how to breathe. When they come over that first jump, elbows up and charging, your heart swells so big it hurts.But this sport isn't all podiums. It’s the "moto-parent heart attack" when you see a bike go down in the back section. The world stops. You’re squinting through the dust, heart in your throat, waiting for that helmet to move. And when they finally pick that heavy bike up, kick it back to life with grit in their teeth, and chase down the pack with a bent lever and a bruised ego—that’s when you realize you aren’t just raising a racer. You’re raising a kid who doesn't know how to stay down.It’s expensive. It’s exhausting. It’s greasy knuckles and a bank account that’s constantly screaming for mercy. It’s the frustration of a bike that won’t start and the Sunday afternoon "pack-up" that feels like it takes an eternity.The drive home is quiet. Looking in the rearview, you see a tired, dirty kid fast asleep against the window, still smelling like two-stroke smoke and sweat. By the time you’re unhooking the camper at midnight and power-washing ten pounds of track clay off the driveway, your neighbors think you’re crazy.But as you pick up a muddy glove from the truck bed, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaos for a million bucks. We’re building something in these kids that a trophy can’t touch. We’re building resilience. We’re building memories. We’re building a bond that only a moto family understands.

See you at the gate. 🏁

**THE CHILDS VIEW**

The second the school bus doors hiss open on Friday, the "real world" starts to fade. I don’t run inside for homework; I run toward the driveway where our truck is already hooked up to our old camper toy hauler. Everyone at the track knows our rig—it’s faded and has seen a thousand miles, but it’s our home on wheels. Inside the house, it’s a hurricane. My mom is a stay-at-home mom, but on Fridays, she’s a logistics genius, stretching the budget to fill the cooler while my dad is out at the camper, exhausted from a fifty-hour work week. I hear the sharp arguments through the walls—the snapped words about gas money, entry fees, or a missing tool. It’s hectic, and it’s heavy, and I know they’re only on edge because they’re giving me every last bit of themselves just so I can line up.But the moment we pull into the track, that weight lifts. Before my dad even gets the truck into park, my track brothers are running alongside the windows, banging on the doors to get me out to play before the ramp even drops. They don't care that our camper isn't new; they just know I'm finally there. That’s the "Moto Family." We’re a tribe that shares everything—food, shade, and secrets that only kids who live in the dirt understand. We spend our nights under the awning, laughing until our lungs ache, building a bond that makes us more like brothers than friends.The racing itself is a raw rollercoaster. I’ve felt the incredible high of a perfect moto—the rush of the holeshot, the bike dancing under me, and the world turning into a blur of blue sky and perfect ruts. I’ve seen my dad hanging over the fence, screaming his head off, and my mom jumping for joy as I take the checkers. In those moments, the sacrifice feels small because the victory feels so massive. But I’ve also felt the grit of the lows. I’ve been at the bottom of a pile-up, tasting dirt and blinking back tears while the pack disappears. I’ve felt the sting of a bike failure on the last lap, watching the podium slip away while I push my machine back to the pits in tears. I’ve seen a neighbor from three trailers down walk over with a spare lever just to keep us in the fight, because they know that for us, every lap is a victory over the odds.Sunday night is the quietest time of all. We’re winching the bike back into the hauler, and my body is a roadmap of bruises and track dust. My mom is tired, and my dad is already thinking about the Monday morning shift he needs to work to pay for the parts I bent. We’re leaving the track tired, broke, and sore—but we’re leaving as one. We do this because motocross isn’t just a sport; it’s the fire that keeps us alive. We’ve traded "normal" lives for the smell of race gas and a family that never quits. We load up that old hauler with empty pockets but a soul that's on fire, because I’d rather be the kid in the dusty rig fighting through the mud with my family than a kid who stayed clean, comfortable, and never learned how to fly.

Race day 🤘🏁