On the Road Again

This story took third place in sports feature writing among large weeklies during the 2010 Wyoming Press Association awards

On the Road Again

By BRENDAN BURNETT-KURIE

Reporter

This time, Steve Cobb had a helmet on as he flew over the handlebars and into the creek.

Cobb had already laid his bike down four times during the grueling Ten Hour Enduro in Casper Feb. 8, but that didn’t deter him. He stood up, readjusted the brace around his neck – the same one he wore for three months last summer – and inspected his bike.

It was good to go. But still he waited.

He paused, fingers wrapped around the handlebars for what seemed like an eternity.

In reality, only a few seconds ticked by. Finally, Cobb swung his leg over the seat and revved the engine.

This race wasn’t over yet.

“I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a little hesitation,” Cobb said. “It took me a little bit to get going again. It stunned me.”

But the amazing part wasn’t that Cobb finished.

The truly unbelievable moment occurred when he wheeled his bike up to the starting line, stood next to nearly a dozen bewildered riders, then sent dirt flying like a wood chipper as he sped away.

All the other drivers could see as he drove out of sight was the Riding For Christ emblem on his number plate.

“Every crew, you saw the look on their faces, they were as shocked as I was,” Cobb said.

***

On June 21, 2008, Cobb was driving his 2006 GSXR 600R bike on WYO 345 near the Montana border when he lost traction with the road. Driving merely 60 mph, Cobb lost control around a curve, slamming into a fence and flying across grasslands before coming to a stop in the middle of a field.

A passing pack of bikers called 911 and Cobb was rushed to Memorial Hospital of Sheridan County.

“A bright, white flash of light was all I saw,” Cobb said. “I thought I was dead.”

“The sheer carnage of it was incredible,” he said. “The top of my head looked like a grapefruit or Mike Tyson had punched me 20 times.”

Cobb had broken his T1, C6 and C7 vertebrae. He had a severe concussion, a sprained back and two broken teeth. According to doctors, Cobb was one-sixteenth of an inch from dying.

“I should not have lived,” he said.

***

In the aftermath of his accident, Cobb didn’t know if he would ever ride again. But as soon as he got his neck brace off after three long, hot months he was back on a dirt bike. Never a street bike, mind you, that still terrified him.

“It scares the crap out of me,” he said.

But dirt bike racing was different, despite warnings from Dr. Brian Weider, a neurosurgeon in Casper.

“He said it was up to me, ride or no ride,” Cobb said. “He said it was extremely risky. He recommended that I not.”

Despite doctor’s orders, Cobb readied himself for one last return to the track. One last hurrah amidst the flying dirt and roaring engines.

“I guess to prove I wasn’t dead yet,” he said. “It weighed on me to do it. I thought it would be a big triumph for my life.”

Instead of dipping his toes into a small race, Cobb decided to test his mettle with the Ten Hour Enduro, an epic adventure circling the 4.3 mile loop at the Casper Dirt Riders Racetrack.

In the field of nine racers – split amongst bikers and four-wheerers – Cobb finished second, putting 206.4 miles under his tires. His 48 laps trailed the winner by six, but bested third place by at least 14.

“It was a tough track,” Cobb said. “Uphills, downhills, flat areas, deep sand, snow in spots, ice in spots we had to cross. It was very treacherous.”

At one point the course crossed a small creek bed, which started as a sheet of ice in the morning, but the heat from dozens of tires tearing across it and the midday sun melted it into a muddy pit.

That’s where Cobb went over the handlebars. That’s when he had his moment of levity. That’s when he had the strength to go on.  But how?

***

“From my standpoint, the Lord got me through that race,” he said. “I’ve given my life back to Christ 100 percent.”

Since he saw that brilliant white light; since he lay on a hospital bed with his vertebrae bursting out of his neck, stretching the skin into a bulge between his shoulder blades; since he was faced with the unenviable position of giving up his career as a bike racer, Cobb’s life has changed.

He found Jesus.

“I attribute everything to Him,” Cobb said. “Because He saved me on that day. That light was Him.”

He now preaches helmet use, as he did before his accident, but without the powerful personal tale that now attaches itself to his warnings.

“If anyone reads this, I would highly recommend a helmet,” he said in a Budget story July 23. “I should have been wearing one. I feel like a hypocrite because I’ve always preached helmet use.”

“That was a good testimony,” Cobb said of the story. “I was hoping if it could save one person’s life, it would be worth it.”

It just might have. Cobb was sitting in front of his loudly painted van at the state fair in August, selling his airbrush art and t-shirts when a woman stopped by.

“She said the article saved her son’s life,” he said. “I guess her son got into an accident, but he’d been wearing his helmet and it saved him.”

***

Still, Cobb battles with the aftermath of his auspicious crash.

“My neck has only come back about 80 percent,” he said. “I still have problems with it crunching and popping.”

Despite the pain in his neck, and the inherent danger of re-injuring himself, Cobb still battled through 10 straight hours on a dirt bike. He would stop every  lap to get his card punched, grab a bite to eat and maybe use the bathroom.

Cobb has come to the sobering reality that his motocross – and dirt bike racing – careers may have finished their final chapter.

“I doubt I’ll compete this year,” he said. “I want to spend time with my wife. I’ve put her through a lot since 2003 in racing.”

With his newfound faith, Cobb also hopes to spread his joy of high-flying, adrenaline-seeking biking to the younger generation.

“I’ll lean towards mentoring up-and-coming riders,” he said. “I don’t know how many more competitions I’ll do.”

There’s one easy lesson any youngster can take from Cobb’s six-month-long ordeal.

“I was going to finish the 10 hours,” he said. “I just didn’t want to quit.”

He never does. He got back on the bike.