There will be blood. Or not.

The Return of the Bloody Elbow Trial.

Seriously. It's just a name. We don't wish bloodiness on any rider. Not at all. There is however, specific and passionate meaning behind this specific event title, The Return of the Bloody Elbow. I'll see if I can lay it down for you. Unpack it.

Me? I'm a relative new guy, only ten years into the SoCal trials scene at the moment. But there are names one hears, names that pepper the fiery campfire discourse; Hogan, Volder, Belair, and of course, Webster. The talk is big, legendary. And continues well into the starry night.

It is said Art Webster was a rugged sort, always ready for a rumble in the brutish Mojave rocks. Oft times, this rocky rumbling would be highlighted by Mr. Webster, and his very elbows in particular, connecting aggressively, savagely even, with rock and earth. The meeting of flesh, and then bone, against the knife-sharp grains of quartz was physical injustice enough. But Art would wear it well, bouncing back atop his bike.
Enthusiasm aside, the episode of flesh to stone was quickly followed by Webster's blood streaking along the length of each hairy forearm, and in so, drawing what appeared as an impressive diagram of a mighty tree, rendered in bright hues of trickling red.
Not to be discouraged- Art would laugh off the entire event. It's only a flesh wound, after all. Art would ride on, he and his mates, twisting throttles long into the afternoon. The flowing of blood was just a brief and fleeting event along the day; but it produced a lasting image: once coagulated, dried, and dirt-caked, they had become glorious sheaths of dirt biking honor.
So yes, bring it on: The Return of the Bloody Elbow Trial. This one's for you, Art. See you at the plaques.

I am completely ready. Sign up now, won't you?