We had ridden dirt bikes all over northern Baja. Thousands of incredibly remote frontier miles committed to memory. In fact, we were to the point where another weekend ride of 300 miles was becoming a milk run of sorts. Perhaps a little history and I will keep it short. When we moved to San Diego in 2000, I gradually bought enough dirt bikes so that my two boys and my daughter could ride as a family. We headed out to the California desert and had many good times camping and riding. The Markey family down the street had a son named Bob who was my son’s Matthew’s age. Stu Markey, the father, had bought Bob a bike while they lived in Monterey CA. The boys were classmates so eventually Stu and I met and shortly became friends. After two seasons of riding, the boys grew better than the California desert could dish out. We all would ride the 60 square mile park quicker than it took to drive out there. Stu Markey mentioned...