Old Memories

[Jon K.]

Tony Eed’s thread “Great Memories” got me to thinking about great motorcycle-related memories.

I will try to put one of them into words, and hope others will do the same. If I am clumsy, please forgive me.

February, 1972. I was 15 years old, and had never been more than a couple hundred miles from Chipola Louisiana.

My Aunt Louise has some friends in Houston, Texas, and offers to drive me over to see some “motorcycle thing” in the Astrodome. She had taken me to see “On Any Sunday” a few months before, and she thought it would be kinda cool.

Actually the “motorcycle thing” was the opening rounds of the AMA Grand Nationals. In the early ‘70s; this was as big as racing gets! :aj:

I begged out of school Friday, and we hit the road Thursday evening. Four and a half hours to Houston, and we stayed with friends Thursday night. To say that I couldn’t sleep was an understatement. The excitement was completely unreal. I was so excited that I was afraid I would wet the bed!

The weirdest thing was the sirens. We were in the middle of Houston, and the police car sirens, or ambulance sirens went on all night. Let me underscore how deep in the woods Chipola actually is. I had never heard a siren, other than at the St. Helena Parish Forest Festival parade, in my life. That may be an overstatement, but these infernal things went on all night!

Just as I finally dozed off to sleep, I was awakened; it was time to go to the Dome!! We were to see the practice for the TT that will run on Friday night. We got out of the house at about 7:30 or so that morning, and I was so disappointed that it was quite foggy that morning, so I couldn’t see much of anything.

We pull into the (Dome) parking lot, and still, the fog completely obscured the Astrodome. As we continue to drive into the parking lot, I have my face right up against the windshield, wondering where the friggin’ Dome is.

We have the windows rolled down, and I can hear the racing engines. British Twins mostly, for the TT. Quick revving, deep throated, and just bellowing like rabid bulls out of the fog!! And I still couldn’t see a thing! :eek:

Then; like some sort of conjurer's spell, the Dome just materialized out of the fog. The concrete of the Dome was the same color as the fog, and when we finally broke through, it filled the entire windshield. Top to bottom, side to side. Big!!! As I fell back into my seat; I actually gasped out loud.

Words cannot do justice to the emotion. Even now, writing this; I get goose bumps.

The remainder of the day was spend ogling the bikes, seeing the practice, and just wandering around the pits and the Dome. I got autographs that day from Dick Mann, Jim Odom, Mert Lawill, and I don’t remember who else. Sort of a sensory overload.

The racing that night was great, the following night was the short track, and it was even better.

But somehow what is so deeply etched into my memory is that immense, ghostly Astrodome emerging from the fog that February morning.

 

[CaptainObvious]

Motorcycle Memories

I remember me and my three older brothers getting into the car and going to Metzgers Suzuki with my dad in the spring of 1973. I can remember crawling over every bike in their small showroom, grabbing all of the literature and brochures. I really liked the Suzuki Grass Hopper. But my dad and brothers were negotiating over other bikes. I was 10 years old at the time and my brothers were 12, 14 and 15. Dad was committed to only buying one bike that all of us could share (one helmet too!). In what seemed like a lengthy negotiation, my dad settled on a new TS-50. It was a bike that my brother George could fit flat-footed on, and I could straddle tippy-toed.

About an hour later the bike arrived at our house. What excitement. Apparently my mom knew nothing of this purchase and made it very clear that she didn’t approve. To be honest, I have no idea why my dad bought this 50cc beast for us. He hates motorcycles. He did in 1973 and he does in 2004. Very uncharacteristic for him. I’ve yet to ask him.

Everyone got a turn at riding the bike in our long driveway. The kids across the street (who all owned bikes) and their parents came over to our house for the festivities. Last in the line-up, finally, it was my turn.

Keep in mind that my dad only had about an hour of riding experience, all on that very same morning. Nonetheless, here he was teaching me all of the safety aspects of motorcycle riding. We went over all of the controls, how to kick the machine to life and the importance of looking forward. Machine started, I remember rolling the throttle on and off, feeling the power pulsing through the TS. Clutch in, click into first – and off I went at a speed somewhere between a fast walk and a slow jog. I was riding! A moment that changed my life forever.

I’ve never forgotten that day. In the summer that followed, I must have put a thousand miles on that TS. Luckily for me, my oldest brother really didn’t like riding – so it was down to three of us sharing the 50. My next oldest brother had a summer job and in no time he purchased for himself his own TC-125. By brother Dan and I shared the TS-50 for the entire summer. I don’t recall having any problem with this arrangement.

I can still see that beautiful blue/green colored tank with the red stripe on it. I washed the bike often. If I wasn’t riding my 50, I found myself drawing pictures of it. Motorcycling became the social circle between us and our few neighbors. The following summer, my dad bought one of our neighbor’s Honda CT-70H (Jimmie was upgrading to a CR-125!) for Dan and I to share. Dan and I traded between the 50 and the 70 often, but I preferred the 50 due to it’s big bike looks.

Other motorcycles would follow, but to this day, none have captured my imagination like that 1973 Suzuki TS-50.

 

[Ol'89r]

We have the windows rolled down, and I can hear the racing engines. British Twins mostly, for the TT. Quick revving, deep throated, and just bellowing like rabid bulls

Dick Mann, Jim Odom, Mert Lawill, and I don’t remember who else. Sort of a sensory overload.

The racing that night was great, the following night was the short track, and it was even better.

Jon.

Thanks for the memories. :cool: :yeehaw: :yeehaw:

 

[Jon K.]

Jon.

Thanks for the memories.

You are most welcome!

Perhaps others have some that could be shared?

Gary; "first bike" stories are always great!

 

[ktmboy]

Seeing this 'new kid' Ricky Johnson battle with David Bailey at Anaheim in the mid '80's was epic. Glad I got to see Bailey ride before his accident cut short his career. I became an RJ fan for life after that race!