Looks like some wonderful memories!
Where did you win those trophies (what track?) and what bike were you riding?
Thanks,
Bryan
(
WARNING: Oh my dog, you got me started. My apologies up front for the meandering mumblings. I won't blame anyone for skipping this post. On with my reply ......)
Thanks.
Where? Most of that bunch were at Tucson Motocross Park (aka "TMP"). I was 14 years old racing in the 250cc class amongst a bunch of grown men on snarling 250cc MX bikes. I was on a highly modified 175cc Yamaha. I did all of the suspension mods myself using Nickel Bronze "brazing" rod with an Oxy-Acet torch, as well as the engine porting and clutch modifications. The front end had what was known as a "Trickit Kit" put in it that increased the front wheel travel to a whopping 7 inches. The bike ran on 115-145 octane aviation fuel mixed with a little Dextron automatic transmission fluid combined with the suggested ratio of Yamalube R premix oil. I made the downpipe from a Suzuki 185 "Git Kit" pipe that I welded a Bultaco 360 weld on silencer to, and fitted the abomination up to the 175cc engine. I fitted a carb from a Kawasaki 250cc of some type, I think it was a Mikuni 34mm (up from stock 27mm if I recall).
The bike F-R-I-G-G-I-N F-L-E-W !!!!!! I weighed in around 90 pounds soaking wet, with me on that thing holeshots were pretty much assured. My homemade full-face helmet said "flea on a missile" in hand scrolled lettering across the back. The back of my Bates leathers read "HOLESHOT!" in white lettering against bright red leather. That thing was probably better suited for TT tracks rather than MX tracks, it had serious hair.
When I hit the advanced level 250cc classes it became very clear that my riding skills far outweighed my physical stature. I was going WAY too fast for a rider my size, keeping the bike under control in high speed whoops got to be friggin dangerous if I was going for the win. I simply wasn't tall enough to straddle the seat on the pegs while the bike worked beneath me on the long high speed rough sections. My ambitions were scaring the hell out of my dad. After I finally took fourth in the Can Am nationals series in 1976, he moved me back to flattrack/TT where physical size was less of a deciding factor. Then on to a little road racing on an atomic powered RD350. I guess it was less harrowing to see me on a flat track at 90+mph than it was to watch me on an MX bike. Go figure. I ended up racing at Perris, Riverside, Manzanita, Gardena, Phoenix (aka "PIR"). Loads of fun, can't think of a better father-son thing to do really.
I guess he trusted my instincts on the higher speed tacks. Y'see, I got my first motorcycle in the summer of 1972, in October of '72 I entered my first motorcycle race at a TT/scrambles track with the ominous name of Deadman's Point. In my 2nd race there I got into a mid-air collision with another rider and broke a couple of ribs when the handlebar jammed into my chest. I later broke all five metatarsal bones in my left foot on that same bike. Not long after that I learned the pain of a broken collarbone due to a monster highside. And then the other side of my collarbone in a monster over the bars endo. Four big-time bone-bustin' eat-its all before the age of 16, and a total of eleven fractures all together by then. So I'd learned to respect speed early on, I knew what it could do, and respected the physics behind going fast. I didn't fear pain, and I didn't permit the memory of broken bones to take the race out of me either. I learned to fear my own complacence, and I learned to take what I was doing very seriously. I learned that sideline time due to broken bones meant time off of the bike, so racing smarter became priority. I think dad took comfort in knowing I'd learned how to respect the track and the bike early on. After my initial (lost) fight with physics, I pretty much stayed unbroken and healthy until the 1980s when I got into District 38 AMA desert racing with a support ride from Yamaha. Anyhow, it was the other riders in MX racing that freaked dad out, not really "me" per se. Flattrack/TT is oddly more "civil" than MX is. MX was what 600cc road racing has become today. In flattrack everyone knows the risks and shares the responsibility for each other's safety on the track. There's NO other form of motorcycle racing where you go as fast while entrapped within solid crash walls with no way out. It can be extremely deadly, which is why (I think) flattrackers have a bit more mutual respect for one another. We're all in that "deadly arena" we all love so much.
PICS: Yup, believe it or not that little toe-headed runt was me, and ~yes~ that was my 175 that I raced for a few years in the 250cc class, mostly at the night races at TMP. The night race pics are at TMP, so is the daytime shot of me over that downjump (photo taken during open practice in the afternoon before the motos began at night) ... note the laid down shocks and the low-pipe. I also raced BMX in the early days of the sport (1970s). Pic is of me on my Redline framed BMX bike, back when Redline BMX frames were built by the very same men that built the Redline flattrack frames we raced on at places like Ascot Park that housed sick-assed RD400(+!!) engines. The best sponsor I ever had, without any doubt was the Seven Up Bottling Company. They paid for anything I asked them to pay for. All they asked of me was to hand out
bottles ... glass bottles of 7up to anyone that wanted it at the races, and of course I wore the forest green racing jersey with the "7up, you like it ... it likes you" logo on it in yellow or white. At races when someone wants to get your attention and they don't know your name they'll call you by what you leathers or jersey says. I got called "hey 7up!!" so many times I began to think it really was my name after a while! Even though my number was 8 or 11, I always got called "7up" or "Holeshot".
How did I get the people at 7up to sponsor me? One day my dad said he wasn't going to peel off the cash for racing parts any longer unless I could prove that I could land a sponsorship. I asked how I went about doing that, he said "get out there and get one! What's the matter with you anyway? What's so hard to understand here? You just go and get one!" (Hmm .. well, ok.) So I got on my bicycle and went into downtown, a fourteen mile one-way trip from our home in the western Tucson valley. I literally went door to door in the industrial section asking to speak with the advertising manager of various businesses, obviously I got run off several times, once by security guards! When I got to the 7up company they were so impressed with the fact that I was willing to actively seek out assistance, and do so proudly, that they brought me on full-blown. After that I stopped by there every Friday to pick up mass quantities of bottled 7up, t-shirts, and of course entry fee money and any other money I needed for tires or chains or whatever. I'd also drop off any trophies and/or pics I'd collected the previous weekend for display in their main lobby. All they asked was for me to present my expenditure receipts to verify what I spent the money on, as well as for their records. I had no problem complying with their wants! Two full years they sponsored me in various forms of racing, including BMX (that was an excellent training activity for me, really helped with my stamina). I was thrilled to see the Winternationals BMX trophy (2nd place Open Expert class) I won in 1977 when my wife found that trunk. I'd thought for decades that I'd left that trophy with the folks at 7up when I moved away (I joined the military).
Glory days, y'know? We all have them. I wasn't a baseball or football hero in high school or as a kid, wheels were my thing. They were the great equalizer for me since I was always so damned small. Sometimes, at night, I can still smell the av-gas and trans-fluid "secret fuel" we used in my 175 missile-bike. And I can still hear dad saying to me his rare words of encouragement. "God dammit son, you really knocked 'em dead tonight!".
Sleep washes over me .....