Flipping through the channels late night yesterday and came across Motocrossed. Like the rest of you, I’m sure, I knew what a masterpiece this film was the instant it came out. If you didn’t share that sentiment, you were either too old or not a real MX BRO, in either case just fucking leave. Since every other attempt to capture the essence of moto culture has been an epic failure (talking to you, Supercross: The Movie), it is reassuring that the great minds at Disney truly know what it means to be a moto BRO. Let’s examine the points where the filmmakers absolutely knocked the ball out of the park in this flick:
Moto Hoe Culture
I really wanted to make this one the big finale but I seriously could not wait to put it out into the world. This is basically the only reason I’m writing this whole post: The team owner’s daughter might be the most accurate character in the entire movie. She’s just some slut who has never ridden anything that didn’t squirt bodily fluids at/in her, and who hangs out at the track for no apparent reason. Except for one: to get steamrolled by the fastest dude on the course. Only reason the original BRO has trouble closing is because he’s a closet fairy, because everyone knows that the dude going 1-1 in 250 Pro has his pick of the litter, pun definitely intended. And what happens when another fast dude shows up from France? Shorty is on his dick before the second moto. Seriously, that’s how fast it happens. 100% perfect depiction of how moto sluts get down.
Moto BROs Speak Like They Had A Stroke Tripping Acid
I mean, when you’re right, you’re right. Motocrossed revealed to the whole Disney-watching world that conversation with anyone who races MX basically consists of basic, non-confusing sentences wrapped up in a nice little “Dude” jacket. I guess you get what you put into it, and since homeschool consists of BROs Google searching every answer to every test they take, it was bound to happen. No joke, I actually have to go through every post after I write them to edit out the number of times I unwittingly typed the word “dude”.
I don’t know where you guys grew up racing, but where I come from, Suzukis sound like their balls haven’t dropped yet and Kawis sound like a leaf blower that tried to kill itself. Not to mention the distinct sound of potato chips crunching around in your cylinder when you blow up your bike.
Riders Switch Teams Between Motos
I’ll let Harry Dunne take this one for me: