You’re known to get up to some shenani­gans af­ter the track is built and the race day is done. Got any fa­vorite sto­ries?


One year dur­ing the Nitro Chal­lenge at The Nitro Pit in Ari­zona, I had bought a re­ally nice pit bike mo­tor­cy­cle to raf­fle off. I had in­structed my crew (my crazy son Cur­ran, Min­nesota Tony, Webb­slinger, and a few oth­ers) NOT to ride the mo­tor­cy­cle be­fore it was raf­fled off, as I didn’t want any­thing to hap­pen to it. I had it stored in my room back at the ho­tel, so it was safe un­til the Satur­day of the raf­fle. I rent all of the rooms for the crew, and I have my own so I can duck out early if needed so I can be ready for the next day…some­one has to be re­spon­si­ble. [laughs] So on Fri­day night of the event, it hap­pened to be my daugh­ter’s birth­day (she was one of the Dirt Girls that year), and we had bought her this gi­ant choco­late cake. We had a small cel­e­bra­tion in one of the rooms, and I de­cide to call it a night and go to my room to get some rest, as I think every­one else will do the same. Not so much. [laughs] Af­ter I go to bed, Cur­ran smears a lit­tle choco­late-cake frost­ing across Scott Hughes’s nose—yes the fa­mous “Squir­rel” him­self— that ba­si­cally sets off a gi­ant choco­late-cake food fight in one of the rooms. Cake is on the ceil­ing, walls, carpet, and even in the bed­sheets! Af­ter the cake fight, the boys de­cide it sounds like fun to have races in the ho­tel hall­ways. One team gets the bell­man cart and the other...you guessed it, the mo­tor­cy­cle. Flash-for­ward to the next morn­ing. I am at the track early, get­ting ready for the day’s events, and I get a call from the ho­tel man­ager. He is fu­ri­ous. He tells me he has kicked me out of all of the rooms I have rented and needs me out im­me­di­ately... and he is so up­set that other guests had com­plained about mo­tor­cy­cle noise all night. To top it all off, he wanted me to pay for all of the da­m­age that the mo­tor­cy­cle oil had caused in the room. He said there were oil stains and dirt all over the room, on the walls, in the carpet, in the beds—ba­si­cally ev­ery­where. I was shocked and asked him if I could find out what hap­pened and call him back, which he agreed to. Af­ter get­ting the full story from the crew, I called him back and ex­plained that all of the mo­tor­cy­cle oil was ac­tu­ally choco­late-cake frost­ing and the dirt was the cake, which re­ally didn’t make it any bet­ter [laughs], and that it was my young crew who were cel­e­brat­ing a birth­day that got out of hand. He de­cided to let me stay as long as I cleaned ev­ery­thing spot­less im­me­di­ately. I agreed, the room got cleaned, and the mo­tor­cy­cle got raf­fled off. It is one of those times I will never for­get.

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