Pretty Steve
Luke 3:16 …But one more powerful than I will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.
The latin translation of bonita is pretty, as most of us know, and Steve Bonita is a pretty interesting dude.
The first time I ever heard the name Steve Bonita, was over a loudspeaker at an Over the Hill Gang mx race. He was smoking the pro class on a KTM 450sx. It was a pretty sight indeed. I didn’t think about that name again until I heard Brian Toline mention him at a cross country race. I remember arguing with Brian that Bonita rode a KTM, but Brian insisted that Steve rode Hondas and only Hondas. In my mind I said, “Look, jackass, I just watched him smoke everone on a KTM 450 a few weeks ago!” The truth is that I didn’t say that because Brian is 6’3″ and 220lbs and I’m skinny and weak. Come to find out, Bonita had borrowed the KTM because his Honda had broke down. So, in true Bonita fashion, he won the OTHG pro national championship on a borrowed bike.
As time went by, I got to know Steve a little bit. He always seemed to be in a pretty darn good mood and he also seemed to know what he was talking about. Usually, when someone talks a lot (and Steve talks a lot), the bullshit meter redlines faster than a funny car. It’s hard to tell a story with every minute detail and not bore people to death. But I’ve seen Steve command the campfire with a coors light in his clutch hand and an imaginary throttle in his right hand on many occasions. Like the one about Shane Watts daring him to race the industry class at a GNCC after he’d already polished off a twelver or so. Or the time he destroyed his wrist landing off a jump so hard on a 125 honda. Or the time he got an infection in his shoulder after an opperation and almost died. There are so many. If you’ve known Steve for more than a few minutes, then you probably have a Bonita story to tell.
I’ve also been fortunate enough to witness several Bonita happenings. One time at band camp…I mean at the Fernely OTHG national, I had the best Bonita encounter. I decided at the last minute to drive to Fernely for the Reno OTHG national over Memorial day weekend. I was riding the intermediate class on my KTM 250 exc. The Fernely track is deep desert sand and horsepower is helpful, but you need to be in shape to ride that stuff. So after a dead last start off of a concrete pad, I began to pick guys off 4 or 5 per lap. A few laps into the race, I see some crazy, possibly drunk mexican, waving a shirt and screaming on the side of the track. As I get closer, I realize he’s screaming at me. WTF! Hey! it’s that friggin crazy Bonita! I said to myself as I whipped my head around incredulously. Dude, sorry I thought you were a drunk mexican. You are a pretty dark Portagee though. For the rest of the race and all my other moto’s, Steve was out there waving his shirt and cheering me on. I don’t even know how he knew I was there in the first place or what class I was in. And the fact that he was waving a shirt around was reassuring, because I wasn’t sure if Steve owned a shirt since I’d never seen him wear one. Later, I would watch Steves motos. He would holeshot every moto, clear the giant tripple jump and lead the first lap on his brand new KTMxc. After a couple of laps the KTM was flogged. The bike was so undersprung he looked like John Candy on a pogo stick. He would bottom out so hard, that the ground would shake. Good times…
I must admit that I was always a bit intimidated by Steve. Not in a physical sense, but in an ‘I’m not worthy!’ sense. The guy can ride a motorcycle like few can. I sell him short when I say he’s a natural. How do I know how hard he worked to make it look so easy, I just know he does. A couple of years ago a group of us were riding at Robert Brumits place. At one point I got in behind Steve on a bitchin singletrack trail. To my surprise, I was keeping up pretty good, but I was at my limit. When we got to the end of the trail I was kind of patting myself on the back for keeping up. It was then that I noticed him taking off his flat tire he’d been riding on!? That same day, we went down the nastiest trail I’ve been on on a dirtbike. I was following Steve again when we started down a nasty rock strewn trail. It was off camber and steep with a hard left to make or you’re going off a ledge. Bonita starts down, gets out of shape, rides a chinese wheelie for about 10′ with the back wheel starting to swing out to his side. Somehow he gathers it up and gets the rear wheel back on the ground and stops the bike without crashing. He then wisely dismounted and walked it down. I dismounted without attempting it. This was the first and only time I’d ever seen Bonita walk a bike.
Seriously, I could go on and on. Like the time he won Wilseyville with a front flat and a broken leg. I was there it happened. “I figured it’s already broken, how much worse could it get?” he said after the race. I’ve seen him do a valve adjustement on Nick Simons Honda 450f finishing by the light of the campfire. I’ve seen him down enough beer to kill a small horse and still ride circles around me the next day. I’ve seen him work the pits like a factory mechanic. I’ve seen him jet around the country helping his boys race the GNCC series. I seen him uphold the honor of the BC Boys. I’ve seen him get more joy out of riding than anyone I know. I’ve tried to get inside his mind to see how he strategizes and stays 3 steps ahead of most of us. There is always something to be learned from the man.
So, with all do respect mister Dos Equis man, who is truly the most interesting man in the world?
By Jimmy Perreira,
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