1973 TRANS AMA MOTOCROSS
P78
Feature
floor and scooting up the other
side, disappearing in a trice.
This was going to be an interest-
ing race. It was, and the clos-
est we came to the top 20 was
when they lapped us, which
they did at least twice. We did
finish though, classified around
25th and 26th, with two or three
other also-rans astern of us.
The level of competition was
simply beyond our comprehen-
sion. Weil was a tough guy.
Unlike everyone else, he wore
a Bell open face helmet with
no face or mouth guard—I think
he just caught the rocks in his
teeth and spat them out. At 34,
he was a veteran, but as tough
as teak and super-fit. After each
"moto," the Maico mechanics
swooped on the three works
bikes and stripped them, tossing
chains, sprockets, cables and
even handlebars into a rubbish
bin. As soon as they weren't
looking, I swooped on the bin
and recovered everything.
If Zoar was an eye-opener, what fol-
lowed was science fiction. In a giant sta-
dium in Philadelphia, an indoor motocross
track had been created. Whoever was in
charge of the earthworks was clearly a
sinister and sadistic individual with no re-
gard for human life or delicate machinery.
By today's standards it was probably
tame, but 47 years ago it was horrific.
The jumps were massive mounds with
sheer drop-offs, no such thing as a land-
ing ramp. In practice, I totally demolished
both wheels, but just when I was contem-
plating spectating for the evening, a cigar-
chomping fellow approached me. He had
a big motorhome in the spectator car park
and hitched to the rear was a 400 Maico.
"Just take what you need," he beamed,
slapped me on the back and disappeared
to the bar. I took both wheels and the
chain. The replacement front lasted half of
the first race and was rebuilt in the interim
from the best bits of both, while the rear
suffered a similar fate in the second leg.
(Above) Laurie Alderton,
"The human Swiss Army
Knife." (Left) Scaysbrook
at Mid-Ohio before the
seat fell off.
