As the card went sideways in front of 65,000 screaming race fans at the Georgia Dome, I already knew the start would be tight. It occurred to me after choosing my gate that my rut, and gate-neighbor Brock Sellards' rut, turned into one. Sellards won the reaction, as well as the straight line to the first corner. That's when I "ran into" gate-neighbor #2, Branden Jesseman. Our bikes locked, but both of us continued to click gears while keeping it pinned. Then Nick Wey started leaning on me from the other side. This left me with nowhere to go when Jesseman backed off the throttle, sending me into a swap. My foot peg went through Brandon's front spokes, and he became Superman.

The events that took place in the next millisecond continue to baffle me. My bike stopped on a dime, and somehow my body was tossed at a 90-degree angle due left. Flying through the air at approximately 30 mph over Nick's rear fender, I was relieved to find my trajectory right on target with a foam tough box. I grabbed the tough box like there was no tomorrow, and it bounced me to my feet. This might have been a good thing, had I not been traveling at 30 mph.

Sliding across the concrete, I plowed over the medics' stretcher and came to a stop, lying on it perfectly. I scrambled to my feet and ran on pure adrenaline back to my broken-up Factory Suzuki. As I popped my bike into gear with no clutch, a bent front brake disc, severely tweaked handlebars, a bent frame that caused my foot peg to stick straight up, and a partridge in a pear tree, I viewed the aftermath of the first three seconds of the race. My friend Branden was lying unconscious with a broken thumb, and two other riders were down as well. That race turned my season upside down for the moment, but I feel it's still mine to lose.

Staying at Kevin Windham's house has been an experience, to say the least. There's only one place to eat within 25 miles, and that's the butcher shop. We wake up in the morning and get eggs from his chickens, then go for a four or five mile run on the roads surrounding his house without the slightest chance of passing a car. Two weeks ago a tornado came through about a mile from his house and knocked all the power lines down. The power company finally made it around to getting the downed power lines off the road when another tornado came through, sending shingles off the roof and moving Kevin's trampoline up and over my single-wide trailer. We currently have to jump over the downed power lines from the second tornado, which adds an entirely new challenge after 40 minutes of running.

Not having to drive to our mountain bike trails, the supercross track or the gym has opened up a great deal of time for Kevin and me to practice up on freestyle. Kevin has all the basics down pat and is continuing to learn new tricks quickly. As for me, I learned the Kiss of Death, Double Grab Indian Airs and a No-footed Cat-Nac Indian-Air in the past four days. The only bad part is that I lost a game of Freestyle HORSE for the first time ever.

Kenny Bartram and Andy Bell came over last week, and even though I could still hold my own against Bell, Cowboy Kenny blew me out of the water. The only trick I was able to do that he couldn't was the Kiss of Death. In our game of HORSE, Andy and Kevin were eliminated fairly quickly, but by the end of our game, Kenny only had an H.

Kevin and I had been looking at his 11-acre pond for some time, but neither of us wanted to be the GP (Guinea Pig). Somehow I talked my friend and training partner, Jim Dechamp, into the crossing. Jim races mountain bikes, but had never gotten out of second gear on a motorcycle in his entire life. Not knowing how to shift or use the clutch very well, he shifted into fifth gear about a half-mile before the pond and lugged it into the power band. Jim hit the lake at about 75 mph and was so astonished to stay up on the water and reach the other side that he almost looped out.

Jim made it look so easy that movie maker Greg Godfrey (Children of a Metal God) tried it with a Lincoln Continental. With the slick grass, the car was only able to attain a speed of approximately 60 mph before entering the lake. Halfway across the pond and still 100 feet from the other side, the car stalled. It suddenly took on the appearance of a Walt Disney World log flume. The front tires made it to the other side before it sank. Kevin pulled the car out with a tractor, and Greg tried it again with similar results. I was convinced that I could get more speed up in the Lincoln but, luckily for my health, the car wouldn't start.

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