DOWN AND DIRTY : STARTING AT AGE 4, BMX RACERS GET BUSY AT LOCAL TRACKS IN QUEST FOR VICTORY, FAME.

Byline: Glenn Gaslin Special to the Daily News

Mike Day slams his bike into a tightly packed mound of dirt and flies three feet off the ground. He lands. And then he does it again. And again.

What goes through the mind of this 11-year-old as he soars over scorched earth and heads for a steep curve.

``Nothing,'' he says.

This is also what he thinks of being the fastest BMX bike racer his age in the country, the fourth-best amateur of any age.

Nothing. No big deal.

``I'm No. 1 right now,'' he says, shrugging. ``But only right now. That could change next month.''

The quiet, cool sixth-grader and his buddy Patrick Drury practice jumping ramps they made one morning after a heavy rainfall. Over and over, they pedal themselves toward piles of dirt, getting as much air as possible, warming up for the evening's race, which, Day stresses, is ``no big deal.''

The contest will take place a few miles away at the Valencia Raceway, the dusty epicenter of much of the Southern California BMX culture, where, three times a week, riders (mostly preteens) gather to tackle the hills and curves, competing for points, national standing and fun. More than 100 racers met on a recent night to dish it out, shoulder to shoulder, wheel to wheel, dirty little bike to dirty little bike.

For a few, these twilight matches serve as the start of a career in racing. Here, they can earn competition points that may take them to the bigger races, where they'll get recognized and maybe get into the magazines. They can become more like Mike Day, who has been at it for more than two years and who, on this day, is late for race registration.

So he and Drury book down the hillside and into Day's apartment complex on their sturdy, super-light single-gear transports they call BMX bicycles.

``My new bike is here,'' announces the fair-skinned, wiry Day as he walks to his room. He stops to pop some of the bubble wrap around the aluminum frame sent to him after his old one started to crack.

``This is the best part,'' he says. Pop, pop, pop.

Day is too young to turn pro and race for money, but he landed the next best thing. He has a much-coveted ``factory ride,'' which, in the world of BMX racing, is as close to having a Nike shoe named after you as a kid from Canyon Country can get.

Last year, a scout from Answer Racing Products saw Day win four races at a Texas competition and asked him to join the company's ``elite factory team,'' which is made up of nine amateurs from across the country, says Joey Licata, BMX product manager at Answer Racing.

``He's a very impressive kid,'' Licata says.

So now Day travels the West to compete at the big tournaments, the Nationals, high-profile races with big points and all kinds of exposure at stake.

And when his bike breaks, Answer sends him a new one, worth a few hundred dollars. And before tonight's race, Day puts on an Answer shirt, Answer pants, Answer helmet, Answer gloves and Answer shoes. He's dressed head to toe in the purple and yellow logos of his sponsor.

Other kids call him the ``Answer Man.'' They want to be like him. Some send their resumes to the big companies. Some have sponsorship from local bike shops.

``He's real unaffected by it,'' says Day's father, Steve, who crouches on his front porch before the race, fixing the pedals of a neighbor kid's bike.

While Day may shrug off his achievements as no big deal, he spends between 15 and 20 hours a week working to become a better, quicker racer. He races two or three times a week at Valencia Raceway. He flies around the country to national contests. He spends weekends training with a pro racer.

``He's always the first to jump, too,'' adds Drury of his friend. ``He always jumps.''

Flying over the hills - the big doubles and tabletops and double tables, set-ups and rollers - on the 1,280-foot track is often key to winning. The obstacles are meant to slow a bike down, to foil the speed demon.

As Drury and Day arrive at the Valencia Raceway, dozens of racers in colorful helmets and pads zip around the track, warming up. Others check out the guts of their bikes, turned upside-down in the dirt. One kid has a bike chain hanging from his pants.

``It's a fashion statement, I guess,'' says Timmy Nicholls, 15. ``I saw it on some guy at a National.''

Amateur racer Vic Michel built the Valencia Raceway two years ago and opens it three times a week for races, once for practice. Hundreds of wheeled warriors show up, again and again. They know what it takes to rise through the ranks: The more you race, the better you get, the higher your standing with the American Biking Association, which keeps track of their points and reports them in the national magazine, BMXer.

Most of those who pad their bodies in molded polymers and speed around the track on two wheels, Michel says, are between 7 and 12 years old.

And with preteens poised in head-to-head athletic competition, as always, come anxious parents. BMX moms and dads sit on the tiny bleachers clutching ballpark-style wieners. They park pickups in the dusty nearby lot and prop up lawn chairs. They lean on the chain-link fence and yell.

``Pedal, pedal, pedal!'' they scream. ``Quit looking behind you! Pedal! Go!''

One of them, Sherri Dragotto, holds a bound score booklet to keep track of her son's points. She dutifully notes the results as the apprehensive Jeffrey, 11, who is racing for the first time since crashing on the track's opening obstacle and breaking his wrist, finishes last.

``He's still slowing down on that first hill,'' she says. ``I told him he can't be afraid of it.''

But not all of the adults are cheering for kids.

Not Old Timer.

``That's what most of them call me,'' explains racer Al Franke, 55. ``That's what it says on the back of my helmet, too.''

The Acton resident starting pumping BMX pedals 12 years ago after retiring from racing motorcycles. That was before Mike Day was born. He's seen a lot of Mike Days come and go.

``This is a sport that kids will get involved with at an early age,'' Franke says. ``They stay with it until they start driving. Then it's cars and girls and stuff.''

If Day sticks with it, he can turn professional at the age of 18, but he's not worried about that.

``I might do it,'' he says, shrugging. ``I don't know.''

There's one professional at the track tonight, and he's just practicing. Harry Leary has been racing since the early '70s and claims a place in the BMX Hall of Fame and six national No. 1 rankings. At 33, he's a veteran. He calls himself ``old.''

``My heyday was in the '80s,'' he says. ``The only track was down in Orange.''

Today's kids, he says, have it better than he did. There are more tracks (there's another one in Simi Valley). The BMX bikes are lighter, faster and evolving quickly with the booming popularity of their close cousin, the mountain bike.

But still, as always, practice makes a 95-pound sixth grader fly around the twisted dirt track ahead of the others.

``To get good on this,'' says Leary, dripping with sweat, pointing to the track he just lapped a few dozen times, ``you gotta get good on stuff a lot harder.''

So the young BMXers build their own tracks. They carve up any batch of barren landscape they can find, creating ramps, bumps, moguls. Day and Drury could name a half-dozen makeshift training grounds within riding distance, and more in the Valley (one off Topanga Canyon Road, another off Tampa Avenue).

``Any plot of land under construction is a bike track waiting to happen,'' says Michel.

And his racetrack is a heated competition waiting to happen as the combatants line up to start the race: The half-dozen girls go first, then the 4-year-old boys and then the older kids.

The races continue for more than an hour. The sun goes down, the lights come on, racers are eliminated through several rounds, their standings marked on yellow paper stuck to a bulletin board. For some of them, this could be the day they graduate from the classification of novice to intermediate, or from intermediate to expert.

To Day, it's no big deal. Nothing is riding on this, no national points, no sponsorships, no question of his dominance. This is nothing more than a routine run, a chance to fly over the double tops and roll over the tabletops. No pressure.

He wins anyway.

Afterward, straddling his bike as he walks away, he says, ``I want to go get some ice cream.''

CAPTION(S):

7 Photos

Photo: (1--Cover--Color) DIRT DEVILS 

In the fast and fie rcely competitive world of BMX racing, kids are pushing their pedals to the metal in a quest to become king of the hill

(2--Color) Evan Yakel, 4, takes a water break between BMX races at the Valencia Raceway.

(3--Color) Mike Day, the fastest 11-year-old BMX rider in the country, gets airborne during a race. ``I'm No. 1 right now. But only right now. That could change next month,'' he says.

(4--Color) Helmeted riders at Valencia Raceway hope to win races, accumulate points and become the envy of their peers by garnering corporate sponsorships.

(5--Color) BMX racers begin competing at age 4; most are between 7 and 12.

(6--Color) Day, of Canyon Country, is sponsored by Answer Racing Products, which outfits him from head to toe and provides new bikes when the old ones break down.

(7--Color) A father comforts his son after a race on the obstacle-laden 1,280-foot Valencia Raceway track.

Andy Holzman/Special to the Daily News