It's Genetic

Sometimes people wonder what makes rally riders tick.  Why – people ask – would they want to ride from NM, to CO, to SD, to ND, to WY, to WA, to OR, to UT, to NV and then back to NM in 4 days for what was it – bonus points?  My feeling is that genetics has something to do with it.  Here, on the 4^th of July, just a few weeks after Father’s Day, I want to tell you about Kirsten’s father.  George Francis Talken was a US Navy pilot during Vietnam, and died there when she was three.  For as long as I’ve known her, her family have said things like, “that is just like your father.”  George Francis was the kid that his brothers always goaded into all sorts of mischief with, “let’s get Francie to do it.” 

Kirsten’s mother Marion met George at a stop light when they were both cruising Virginia Beach Blvd in 1963.  Very soon they were dating.  On the day she was driving from Richmond to Virginia Beach to meet his squadron for the first time, George flew his plane low over the highway, and she knew it was him.  She was so excited to get there.  When she got to the club on base, everyone was pretty quiet, and George was a little late, but walked in calm as could be.  Only later did she find out that the plane had stalled out near Oceana and he had to do a water landing and “step out.”  His team mates said he had landed a “swamp bird.”  He had dealt with the plane and rushed to meet Marion, never telling her much because that was her initiation to Navy Aviation!  They were married within 4 months.

 

Marion on three wheels

Kirsten’s grandmother Edna (George’s mom) was a motorcycle rider, long distance RV driver, and a Chico California Rosie the Riveter who also had that adventuresome spirit.  And Marion has been known to move along on some wheels too!  Marion remembers the "training runs" that George and the other pilots used to do when they were stationed in Jacksonville, FL, “They used to do crazy stuff, like fly up to Maine to pick up lobsters – from Jacksonville!  They’d say they needed to empty a tank of gas.  So they’d come back, you kids were all in bed, and at midnight, we’d be cooking up lobsters in the backyard with the neighbors.  Your dad would be sitting in the high chair with a lobster bib on and a bottle – a beer bottle!  You’d just call it a training flight – got to go get lobsters.”  Or, as Kirsten is doing today, a few more states and bonus points. 

Most rally spouses have similar stories about their loved ones, who just seem to be wired a little bit differently than others.  It's that ability to take the long miles alone in the helmet in challenging conditions, while maintaining mental alertness, even on bad days.

Today, was a rough day in the saddle.  Kirsten burned an hour in a 7-Eleven waiting for a good receipt due to a miscalculation, then she was battered by a hail storm, delayed by a road detour, lost and recovered her rally flag, and was hit in the helmet by a bird strike.  It’s the crap days of Leg 2.  She’s about 3 hours behind where she planned to be and feels like she’s riding her plan but watching the ETA on her GPS get later and later.  The countdown clock to the checkpoint is not helpful.  And loud.  It’s days like today, and every rider has them, when you have to be reminded of the strong stuff you’re made of.

Kirsten's R1200RT with her dad’s squadron stickers on the fuel cell.