Al Jones loves fixing carburetors, watching Broncos games and lifting weights.
But if you want the mechanic’s complete attention, ask him about riding motorcycles with Karan, his wife.
People like the 47-year-old – those whose athletic lives were almost lost, but who never lost hope – give me more reason to cheer than any touchdown, slam dunk or home run.
People like the Idaho Falls, Idaho, resident somehow got the rose to grow from concrete by flipping the impossible into the possible.
But first, you need to know Jones’ story.
Ask him about May 15, 2003. He’ll stop working, turn away from his desk, wipe the WD-40 from his hands and show you his office/storage room/working center.
You’ll look down and see hundreds of old carburetors stacked on top of each other. Look up, and you’ll see pictures of the late racing great Dale Earnhardt, a story about Pat Tillman, and an old photo of Jones riding his bike. Nearby you’ll notice a bench station he built by hand when he was 12, and on a shelf to the right are just a few of his motocross awards.
Jones won a lot trophies and plaques when he used to race competitively. From 1990-95, he earned five state motocross championships in Idaho and Montana.
And then he crashed.
Jones, Karan (then his girlfriend) and a few friends drove to Alpine, Wyo., on a warm May afternoon four years ago to camp and bike.
As soon as he could unload his red 1994 Honda CR 250, Jones was roaring toward the dirt track he’d eaten up a hundred times.
Just 50 feet from his destination, the inciting incident rears its ugly head: Jones’ bike goes off a bump funny.
He hangs in the air for several seconds struggling to regain control.
Jones lands first. His bike lands second.
“My bike pile-drived me into the ground and bent me in half,” Jones said.
Eventually, Jones gets up, white as a ghost and trembling.
What scared Karan most was that Jones wasn’t on his motorcycle.
“I knew his first concern would be his bike,” she said.
Jones had broken his vertebra near the middle of his back, leaving him sidelined for a month on a couch, relegated to wonder if he’d ever ride again.
Jones was a cocky 17-year-old who tore up dirt tracks and won so much in his stock car at Noise Park that he began pissing off other racers.
Now, he was an old man with a bad back.
That was, until this October.
Jones got back on a motorcycle. It had been four years. Doctors told him to steer clear of danger, but here he was, back at it.
Karan told me she saw Jones come back to life that October afternoon.
“For the first time in years, I saw the old Al come back,” she said.
Injuries can derail seasons, devastate a team and destroy players. But they also spark some of the most profound epiphanies and make people realize just how important life is.
Jones bites the bullet every day at work, masking pain that makes it difficult to just stand and read a magazine at the supermarket.
But, for some reason that has swirled around inside Jones for decades, he’s not giving it up. He loves dirt biking too much to just stop.
Jones still isn’t sure if he wants to race competitively again, but he has never felt more satisfaction packing up some food and his biking gear and riding with Karan on the weekends.
Soon, Jones is at his workstation. He’s decided to get back to that carburetor, opting to work and talk.
He lets himself reflect a little more.
Jones says he knew he loved riding, but he didn’t know how much until his freedom to bike was ripped away from him.
Take away his sport, and Jones is just a mechanic in Idaho Falls.
But give it back to him – give him a second chance and newfound hope – and Jones becomes a luminary.
Just ask Karan.
“If I let an injury defeat me, how many other things in life will defeat me? That’s Al’s perspective,” she said.
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Beating the odds just part of one man’s story
Daily Emerald
December 6, 2007
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