It is all absolutely 100% true. Something Rotten In Grattan? Grattan, Michigan-If you follow motorcycle racing at all, you know Wade Parish owns Grattan Raceway in Michigan. I had the pleasure this weekend to be a part of his legacy there as his head mechanic. What I expected was nothing compared to the reality of his grip on, not only the race, but the people of Grattan. I actually heard someone call the track Parish Raceway. I swear to God I did. Wade is a hero to the common man. So much so, that even though there were shower facilities available to the contestants, he would forgo that right as to smell like the common man as well. Is that going too far? You don’t know Wade Parish. Wade was scheduled to race once on Saturday, and thrice on Sunday. Saturday, nature was a cruel mistress, as she drenched the speed addicted spectators, as well as the “athletes” with thunderous sheets of rain. As many racers cowered under their tents, Wade bravely practiced on schedule to show the others there was nothing to fear. He even explained to the rival Carney racing team that water was nothing to fear, and that beer was made of water. That’s when I saw the calmness enter their bloodshot eyes. Many came to offer food, which Wade turned down because it wasn’t offered to the whole crew. That’s just the way he rolls. Plus he has always maintained a “race weight” that he has found to be so successful. Were the other riders being friendly or were they merely trying to add weight to the most feared rider on the course? As the rain moved on and the sun came out, Wade decided to boost his contemporaries’ confidence by using tires that had been previously used to hold his tent down, no longer suitable for racing……or were they? In Wade’s first race, he was up against riders with bikes that were LITERALLY three times more powerful than his modest ride, yet he still managed a podium finish with lap times just over one minute on a two mile track. Impossible? Not to the believers. I was soon to become one myself. Even in Grattan’s finer eateries, Wade couldn’t escape his celebrity. As an act of solidarity, we all ordered the same thing, but Wade apparently was charged much less as I noticed he only paid a fraction of what we did. It was decided after dinner, mainly by my wife, that we would not sleep on the ground with the crew, but in a nice hotel room. I soon figured out that the decision probably came from higher up. If people saw me leave, they would assume that Wade was with me, and they wouldn’t bother him and he could rest up for the next day of racing. I was a decoy. It was a good idea, but it backfired…….. That night, the rain moved away for good and the morning should have brought good spirits to all. As I arrived at sun up, I could tell something was amiss. During the night, when everyone thought Wade was in a motel, someone had broken into the compound and stole all of Team Parish’s brake pads. There was no doubt to me that this had happened, since every racer worth his weight would have extra brake pads with them. I also knew that not every racer was dirty, so we went searching for a kind soul to sell us a set. It was obvious that this kind of behavior was not new to our team. When I asked the other competitors for a spare set for Wade, the all said, “again?!!!” It’s funny that no one else had a spare set, since I’m sure they all use the exact same pads. Not to be defeated, I, along with mechanic Mark Kocher, found a nearly worn out set of moped pads. Using the tools we had, we fashioned them on to the bike and crossed our fingers. As Wade’s first race on Sunday began, Kocher and I bowed our heads and held hands, if for just a moment. I swear to God we did. Then it was off to a vantage point so we could watch with sweaty-palmed anticipation. With Wade’s concentration from the morning’s activities shot, and worn moped brakes, it was no surprise he was falling behind…….in a hurry. With only a couple of laps left, I ran to a different location to see more of the track. This is when I knew that I wasn’t working with a regular man. Apparently in the time it took to reach my new spot on the track, Wade had made up nearly a whole lap on the field and was several bike lengths ahead of the leader. I knew he had won because as the other riders left the course at the end, Wade took a customary victory lap. Usually when the winner does this, they wave at the crowd and show off, or “hotdog” by sitting on the side of their bike, burning rubber, etc. Not Wade. He ran his lap at the same speed as he did during the race. Head down, eyes straight ahead. All business. In this day of over paid, show off athletes, this is refreshing. For this, I applaud you Wade Parish. The second of three races was nearing for Wade and he had worn the moped brakes down to what looked like a piece of paper. Would he forfeit? You don’t know Wade Parish. He was going to race. And race he did. I suggested changing the gearing on his bike to compensate for the tattered brakes. He agreed. Not being able to brake properly, he roared into the turns, slamming his gears into first and skidding through, clocking his fastest laps of the day to the bemusement of the other entries. Now there was one race to go and the championship was still undecided. Wade now had the crowd in a frenzy, and the attention on him was starting to become overwhelming. Using our mechanical and engineering prowess, Kocher and I fashioned a kite from a tent to amuse the onlookers, giving our racer a much-deserved rest. Luckily, the crew and I had a chance to inspect the bike before the last race, while Wade was preoccupied, warming his hands as he often does, down the front of his leathers. It was obvious that the stallion was not race worthy. The brakes were totally shot and the tires had taken a beating from downshifting in the turns. Nothing good could come from this last race. But how do we convince Wade? As expected, he was adamant about going out to pursue the championship and we were forced to physically hold him back for his own safety. The bastard had won. The thieving bastard had won. Did Wade hold a grudge and disappear into the night? You don’t know Wade Parish. He sat and cheered on his contemporaries, knowing full well that one of them had cost him the prize. There is next year. Yes my friends, there will most definitely be a next year, and I will be there right beside our warrior, fulfilling my duties with pride. Someday Wade’s dream of standing on the podium with Valentino Rossi will become a reality. But which one will of them will be looking up to the other? Maybe you do know Wade Parish.
Wade Parish - you are a man among boys. A scholar and a gentleman. Words cannot describe the heroism you display on a daily basis. Godspeed and I also applaud you.
[ Someday Wade’s dream of standing on the podium with Valentino Rossi will become a reality. But which one will of them will be looking up to the other? Maybe you do know Wade Parish. [/B][/QUOTE] I know Wade Parish too, and its all true!
"As the rain moved on and the sun came out, Wade decided to boost his contemporaries’ confidence by using tires that had been previously used to hold his tent down, no longer suitable for racing……or were they?" This is great .. This whole thing is priceless ..
Re: Re: MY buddy David wrote this. He's actually referring to a dream I had once and told him about. In the dream, Rossi and I were really good friends and I had just come in second place to him at Grattan (I can't remember if it was CW or CCW ). I was giving my trophy speech on the podium with my arm around his shoulder and I was getting really choked up and emotional talking about what an honor it was to battle with such a great competitor and what a privilege it was to have such a dear friend. It was a very touching moment.
