I Am Black Mountain

- Gork

I’m not the track. I’m the big guy next to it; some call me the namesake. Yep. I’m that big pile of rock and granite that those pesky little people next door keep picking away at. Having a mining company at your feet is like having a big itch that you can’t scratch. But thank goodness I’ve got the Black Mountain BMX track right in front of me to distract me from that constant irritation. I’ve been here for centuries and have seen a lot of changes over the past few decades. For the longest time I’ve just sat here, waiting for the occasional Pima or Navajo Indian or stage coach to ride past. Most of my life, I’ve just spent counting tumbleweeds. My life changed for the better in 1912, when Arizona became the 48th state. Then in 1960, Deer Valley airport was built to my left (your West), and that was entertaining at first; especially when it became the home base for the Phoenix Police Dept. helicopter patrol. But the day my life really changed for the better was in the mid-70’s, when Road Runner BMX was built at my base. Life for me would never be the same. For the longest time, that BMX mecca was the only thing around, but lately a landfill has been encroaching on my toes. Over the years, I’ve had front row seats to the Winternationals - and I’ve witnessed some of the best racing in BMX history. Since 1991, the Winters has been here (with the exception of only a couple of years), and I’m pleased to have contributed some of my crumbs to the pits and parking area. It’s impossible for me to name my favorite race of all time, but I will admit to missing the good ol’ Black Mountain tunnels and 300 degree turns. This year’s Winters would rank right up there as one of my favorites. The Pro racing was great, as always. While the reigning No.1’s of Joris and Alise kept doing what they always do, it was nearly a full French podium on Friday night. Thank goodness for Aussie Anthony