The only thing loud enough to distract your attention from the throaty buzz of motorcycles tearing around the dirt track is the more imposing rumble of passenger jets. The planes, landing at nearby Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood International Airport, pass low over the track's carefully bulldozed berms, jumps, and banked curves, lending a hint of aviation-fuel aroma to the unmistakable scent of the gas-oil mixture exhaust. (You know, that smell given off by outboard motors and chain saws.) The fumes come from the 60cc cycles navigated by the peewee class and from the 250s and bigger bikes driven by the big boys (and girls). But all of the riders out here -- who practice every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday and race on Saturdays -- look like professionals to us. Their helmets, jerseys, and padded pants are emblazoned with logos and color schemes matched to their machines. As riders whip around the track, catching big air off jumps and sliding sideways through turns, a row of PA speakers pumps out pounding rock music during practices, though much of the time you can't hear it. When the dust and exhaust have thoroughly coated the back of your throat, step over to the concession trailer for a Coke, or, on Saturdays, free beer for folks age 21 and older. Spectators get in for $2 on practice days and for $6 to $8 on Saturdays.