|
Wanna
Take It
For a Ride?
That’s
how it all started.
For an easily influenced 12 year old, that line is what got me
infected with the “bike bug”.
A 12 year old that already spends way more
time than he should reading bike magazines than doing his
homework. The same 12 year old that can’t believe he has to wait 4 more years to get his
drivers license!
My neighbor Jack had a minibike. It was made by Woods. The frame was forest green and it had a Briggs and Stratton
lawnmower engine. There was no suspension or disk
brakes or anything that would be considered hi-tech back then. Just a
frame, an engine, 2 wheels and a chunk of foam covered in black vinyl
for a seat. No twist-grip for throttle, just a brake lever.
Minibikes were all the rage back in the early ‘70s. They were on the
front cover of many bike mags. I still have the first edition of Cycle
Canada, with the headline shouting “We Love Minis!”. Many
manufacturers were jumping on the minibike bandwagon. Some familiar
names like Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki and some not so familiar like Rupp,
DMP, Benelli and Keystone.
I was coming back from the corner store on my bicycle when I saw Jack
riding this minibike around his gravel circular driveway. The bike had
a raw power sound and he was really moving. A small crowd of kids in the
neighborhood had gathered to witness this awesome piece of
machinery. I watched by
the curb, envious of Jack. Man, that looks like a total blast!
Then a shockwave hit me. Something I was not prepared for when I heard
those 6 magical, irreversible words:
Wanna take it for a ride?
I stood trembling, barely able to hold my bicycle. Jack was a couple
years older than me and I only knew him because his sister went to the
same school. I’m not sure that I
had even spoken to him before. So there was a double shock wave, one,
a chance to ride this minibike and two that Jack would even offer it
to me.
I’m sure I hesitated for a few seconds, still getting a grip on his
question before I dropped my bike and said: “Sure!”
He held one end of the chrome high-handle bar as I threw a leg over
this glorious machine. I was nervous, but more excited, as he showed
me where the throttle and break levers were. As I got familiar with
the bike, he let go of the bar and stood back. The crowd of anxious
kids was staring at me and quietness grew from them. I was oblivious
to them and very focused on what I was about to do. Little did I know
that my life was about to change, that my focus, hobbies,
inspirations, all were about to change forever.
I
squeezed the throttle lever and the bike started to move forward. I
gave it enough gas to be able to lift my feet off the ground and onto
the rigid horizontal bars that were used for foot pegs (Now I know
where that name came from as these were just steel “pegs”). I was careful to aim the bike on the gravel of the
driveway and not run down the crowd of kids that were still watching
in awe. I made a full trip around the circumference of the driveway
and stopped where I had started this eventful day. Jack took hold of
the handle bar as I slowly swung my leg off the beast, to let the next
testosterone-induced kid take his turn. Just think of how many kids
were infected that day!
As I watched the others ride the Woods bike, standing and staring in a
daze, something had come over me. I would never be the same. The
damage was done (according to my parents, I’m sure). The venom from
the bike bug bite was flowing through my central nervous system. It
made its way to my young and vulnerable brain and flicked on the bike
switch. As most of you know, this switch only goes one way. Once
it’s turned on, “click”, – that’s it. There is no “off”
setting. Ever.
I hoped on my bicycle and rode like blazes to get home and tell my
mom. I’m sure she was thrilled (said with sarcasm). I just had to
get one! I must have driven my parents crazy talking about it, because
they decided to make me an offer. If I would work on getting half of
the cost for one, they would chip in for the other half. Yes! I guess
they figured it would be a good learning experience for me, to find a
job and work hard to get the money I required to fuel this
uncontrollable desire.
For the next few months I saved all my pennies and poured over all the
bike mags I could find to read up on Minibikes. I returned to Jacks
place to tell him the good news that I too was going to get a minibike
and I needed to get all the information and advice that I could. I was
fired up that’s for sure!
Then one day the Eaton’s Spring and Summer catalogue arrived. As I
was casually thumbing through it looking at toys, stereos, etc., I
turned the page and I stopped and stared. I couldn’t move, my breath
held as I my eyes locked on this awesome bike. It was a
minibike, made by Keystone. The frame was yellow and the gas tank and
seat were black. Striking! It was a beautiful creation of motorhead
technology. I had to have it. The price? $149.95. I could get half
that! I already had some saved from my paper route. This was the bike
for me… or was it? I better take it over to show Jack and get his
valuable and experienced opinion. He mulled it over and seemed a bit
envious that I may be getting a newer and better bike. He informed me
that it has a 2 stroke engine, just like the big street bikes!
Remember, this is the ‘70s when Kawasaki triples, Suzuki and Yamaha 2
strokes ruled the streets (along with a few Honda 4 strokes). I was
sold!
When I finally came up with my half of the bike money, my parents put
in the order. This was so exciting. My first bike was actually new
too. I’m not sure how long it took before it arrived, but I’m sure
it seemed like a full season had passed. It was early Spring when the
box finally showed up at our door. We put it together on the carpet of
the rec room. I read the manual over (I still have it) and my dad
explained to me about mixing gas and oil, what a choke was, etc.
Was I ready to ride? Yes! Was the weather cooperating? No! Spring
fever was another disease I had to learn to deal with. There
was still snow on the ground and I had to wait. The weather was
warming up, but not enough to melt all that fun-zapping snow. I curbed
my desire to ride it by sitting on it while watching TV and paddling
it around the rec room. Sigh.
When the weather finally cooperated, we fired up the mighty 50cc 2
stroke. It was loud and sounded much different than Jack’s bike. But
it sounded cool! Off I went with the Cheshire cat grin permafrosted
into my face. The Joker’s smile was, a joke, compared to what was
ingrained in my face.
Luckily for me, we lived on the edge of town with miles of trails
accessible from our back yard. There was an old abandoned dump behind
the house with countless trails. It turned out to be a meeting place
with other kids in the neighborhood who also rode. Our “gang” had
quite a variety of machines; Rupp, DMP, Honda, Keystone, Benelli, Fox,
Woods, etc.
I spent evenings and weekends bombing around the “Dump” and the
sides of farmers’ fields with our gang. No gear, no helmet, just
endless smiles that ingrained great memories that stuck with me to
this day.
“Wanna Take It For A Ride”?
“Yes!”
It still has the same effect on me today.
|
