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By Jess Hinrichs
Being a moto wife and having two boys meant I had about a 50/50 (if not 100%) chance of becoming a moto momma. Like many new parents, we bought all the gear and gadgets for our first boy. He was a full-on adrenaline junkie, but oddly enough, dirt bikes never caught his attention. He kept me on my toes in every other way.
That second boy, however, he was different. As an infant, he made dirt bike sounds, lived in moto gear, and watched endless hours of riding videos on a portable DVD player. Every birthday and Christmas, he wanted only toy motorcycles and tracks. That was just the beginning.
So when people ask me how I can watch my son race, with all the risk, all the crashes, and all the injuries? I tell them this: his heart has always been set on this life. And because of that, my heart knows no different.
More than twenty years ago, one of my first dates with my husband was spent sleeping in a race trailer on the floor at Berthoud Moto Park. No illusions, just the cold night air, the hum of excitement before race day, and the unmistakable smell of race gas on a Sunday morning. I never knew this life existed before him. Racing wasn’t part of my world but once I stepped into it, I was hooked.
Now, watching my son chase his dreams, witnessing both the wins and the wipeouts, has become the heartbeat of my life. Being a race family has given us memories money can’t buy. Cross-country road trips, early mornings, and real, quality time together. We’ve driven to California, Tennessee, Loretta Lynn’s Ranch for the Amateur National Motocross Championship, Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, and Las Vegas. We’ve raced in the Cowboys, Cardinals, Broncos, and Raiders stadiums for Supercross Futures, not to mention countless Arenacross events. That feeling, racing under the lights, never gets old.
This life moves fast, and if you don’t slow down, you miss the beauty of it. It demands attention to detail, sacrifice, and self-control. I’m thankful every day that my husband raced, because it grounded us through the tough times.
Early on, I learned that the moto life teaches you about friendship, love, and loss. Sometimes all in the same weekend. It humbles you fast. I’ve seen the moto community come together in tragedy, lift each other up, and ride again the very next day. It’s taught me never to take a single moment for granted, because this passion we share can be gone in an instant.
Someone once asked me, “How did Jace talk you into camping all summer in your van?”
The truth is, he didn’t. I didn’t need convincing. I saw it as an adventure and a rare chance to spend time with my son. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Sure, it wasn’t always glamorous. Using a port-a-potty with a headlamp on a snowy night at Thunder Valley isn’t exactly a night at the Hilton, but those are the stories that make the best memories. (Okay, maybe a bathroom would have made them slightly sweeter.).
What I never anticipated as a parent was how much joy I’d find in simply watching my kids do what they love. My initiation into moto mom life came with ten broken fingernails, a pipe burn to my shin, and getting roosted by a PW50, because unlike soccer moms, moto moms earn their stripes.
This life has a funny way of showing you where you belong. Once, I drove nine hours to watch my son race for just one day. On the first lap of the first moto, he knocked out his two front teeth. I’ll never forget the paramedic saying, “Mom, I have your son. Go find his teeth.” I thought I misheard him the first three times, but sure enough, me and those EMTs found both teeth before the race even ended. Word to the wise: don’t knock your teeth out in Decatur, Texas, on a Sunday.
This life isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not always pretty. The injuries can be brutal, and the emotional toll can be just as heavy. But despite the mud, the snow, the sweat, and the heartbreak, it fills my cup every single day.
The friendships we’ve built, the families we’ve met, and the sponsors who’ve stood beside us have made this journey possible. We couldn’t do it without them. Being surrounded by people who share this crazy love for racing is something special.
Watching my son and his friends grow up at the track has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. I’m proud to carry the title of “Moto Mom.” No matter what tomorrow brings, I know I’ve lived my best life - setting that holeshot device, cheering from the sidelines, and chasing after him every step of the way.
For that, I’m truly grateful.
~ Jess Hinrichs
