MotoMom Media

In the pits, he dresses with care, motorcycles surround us everywhere. Goggles, helmet, knee braces and pants, necessary gear to begin...

A Courtney Staton MotoMom original. All rights reserved, ©MOTOMOM MEDIA 2020 ‘Twas the night of Christmas and all through the shop the...

The following postcard from the pits story is another adaptation of a Robin Crutcher MotoMom original. I’ve been wallowing in my basement...

Get out. Get the hell out. Now. While you can. While your heart beats and your head is clear. Fill your lungs with the air around you and...

For Sale: Everything. The hauler. The bikes. The parts. The truck. The gear. The kid. The husband. Shit I’ll throw in the dog, too. Just...

To the kids that didn’t make it to Hurricane Mills; It’s alright. If you didn’t qualify- missing by one or by 30. If you got the ticket,...

I first penned this post over two years ago, when a MotoMom in a social media group said they were prepping for their first trip. I’ve...

Adapted from “Motomom Score Card,” by Robin Crutcher, 1997 There is an unidentifiable neural trigger that reacts to the olfactory...

Lots of sports have those moms that always like to be the head hen. They’re usually the ones in charge of the PTA, the ones that bring...

Adapted from “Moto-Momisms” By Robin Crutcher, in The Best of Motomom Mom-isms are a thing that usually only a mother gets to say, say...

If you’re going to post in color, it better be in red, white and blue. “The American Dream does not come to those who fall asleep.”...

I briefly cried in the shower last night. We were home late from a rough racing weekend. I don’t know if it was exhaustion or defeat of...

Stop. I want you to think really hard about this. Think about the last time your kid was on their bike. This weekend. Yesterday....

Dear MotoDad, You make so many sacrifices to make this racing thing work. Sometimes it’s a Sunday evening and you’ve loaded the trailer...

The making of a new Harescramble MotoMom. Julia Goes has an understated calm about her, the kind that only the moms of the woods and dirt...

“What was your favorite part of today?” I ask MotoKid as he climbs into bed. Tonight he turns over his head, his mop of unkempt burnished...

There’s a bond forged between motos with the children of the clay and the sand. These friendships, crafted in a language of “Braps” and...

Today, right now, actually, k