Spearheaded by a few people who see big fun in small bores, the sport of Minimoto is blowing up here in the southeastern United States. Bikes that are cheaper than the tires they roll on, beat up leathers, dragging parts both soft and hard; we intend on being on top of anything and everything that racing small bikes on smaller tracks has to offer.
We're working hard to bring to an end the days (and nights) of packing up, checking twice, strapping down, checking thrice for all of your bikes/gear/tools/gas/food/mans/ladies and whatever loose ends you may need to tie, and then driving through the night to sleep in a hotel if you're lucky. With tracks in our back yards looking to fill the grids, our mission is simple: fill them.
They're weird. I mean, come on. Most of these bikes were meant for 12-year olds to putt around on in the woods in the back of their house, but here these people are, racing them. They flex in ways metal shouldn't, stop in "I hope you planned ahead" seconds, and wheeze their way up to a scalding 30 mph. But these bucket bikes and the people who ride them bring so much character to the sport, it's a charm that's hard to deny. And scarily enough, some of us run this movement! I'm sorry in advance.