Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1970's

I don't remember how my husband ~ Rodger got me out of bed, dressed, and e, propped up in the cab of our van, but ~ here we were - Bay Mare Motorcycle Ol Track at God-knows-how early in the N morning. "Couldn't you find a quieter place to park?" I asked Rodger, rubbing my eyes. "Shut up!" ~ w I could see clusters of spectators Z arrived early (even though I could only w oJ fully open one eye), and most of them o congregated around the mudhole, >o hoping for plenty of action. Motorcycle riders were inspecting the course, either nodding their 'h ead s in approval or muttering inaudible nasties. A banner was strung across the sign-up shack. "EVERYBODY LOVES A TEAM-PRIX", it read. Below it somebody had penciled in: C SPOT RUN. C JAN RUN. CZ NOT RUN. And there was Rodger, frantically combing through the pits like he was searching for something...searching for what? I wondered. Then I remembered the phone call at ' four o'clock this morning. I didn't hear it until Rodger interrupted my dream about Tom Jones. CD "Marsha, get the phone!" "Oooh...it's on your side." But I answered it anyway. "Hey, Rodge, it's Freddie. Says he's been throwing up all night, his temperature is 103.2 degrees and he can hardly get up out of bed to go to the bathroom." "What's he want, a diagnosis?" "He already knows he has pneumonia. Said he's sorry but he can't race with you in the Team-Prixtoday..." Rodger leaped out of bed and snatched the receiver. "You have what? , Anyb ody can race with pneumonia don't you believe in aspirin?" (According to Rodger, there was no excuse for missing a race unless you were officially declared dead by a competent mortician.) So, while Rodger was looking for an available rider, I decided to doze off and see if I could take up where I left off with Tom Jones. Blast those motorcycle maniacs! The race isn't even underway yet and they're competing to see whose motorcycle makes the loudest noise. Of course, they call it warming up their engines. I stuffed my ears with my fingers so the thunderous RRRrrrmmms faded to dull eeerrrs, But I could still hear drifts of conversations floating from the pits. "Who can lend me some Torco?" "Hey, Marvin, you got a flat. You ain't going nowhere on that Yamabaha!" "Damn boot lace...anybody got some string?'" "Joey, baby, thought you were ridin' today!" HI am, why?" "I see you brought your Maico." Suddenly, I was jarred and I jumped at the clanking of chains. Rodger was loading his bike back in the van. "No luck, huh, Rodge?" The look he gave me meant I better keep my mouth shut. "I know, honey. Why don't you have an announcement over the loudspeakers?" "Stupid idea." Then he abruptly left. Three minutes later I heard something being announced on the loudspeakers. "Tenshun pleeze. We have a rider here who is an Expert and needs a Novice to ride his bike in the 250 class. Come to the announcement stand if you're a Junior and want to team up in the 250 class. Bike available - entry paid. One more thing. Applicant number one requires that Applicant number two be in good physical condition." Poor Rodge. If he can't race today I'll have a mental case on my hands. Heaven knows I've tried to show interest in his enthusiasm for motorcycles and racing. When he bought me a trail bike for my birthday he was overjoyed. I pretended to be the same. When he was sure I had the bike mastered, he entered me in two races. The first race he had to pry my petrified body off the seat. It was after my second race when I rode into two riders and one water truck he decided to store my bike away for Rodgie, Jr. When I joined Rodger at the announcement stand I immediately regretted having felt sorry for him. He was talking to the only prospect that showed up and sh e was even good-looking. Before I tuned into their conversation my blood was already boiling, my fists were clenched and I wanted a divorce. "I don't know...' Rodger was shaking his head. "Why not?" she was saying. "I've been racing for three years. I can handle big bikes and I'm in perfect shape." , "You're right about that." Rodger ~g;;:.'!.:.. "Excuse me!" I interrupted. "I'm sorry you had to bother but I just found my husband a partner." . The good-looking girl shrugged her shoulders and left, swinging the best-conditioned part of her. Good thing I came in time. " Did you find a partner for me?" Rodger asked enthusiastically. "Where is he? Who is it?" "Me. " "HUH?" "I'm better than nothing." "J ee-zus l " it too much throttle. Wow! This bike has power. I swerved all over the track, causing a rider alongside me to plow through the fence. I felt bad about it but I had to get out of there before he recognized me. When I got to the bottom of the steep ' up hill it was too late to get a running start. I shifted to second and turned the throttle all the way down. Up up ... put ter . . vb ac k ... back ... down BAMM! Wonder who I backed into? Oh , just a stake. That's easy to fix. ' But what about the crack in the fender? 111 just take some of this dirt here and pack it on the crack so Rodger doesn't notice it right away. "Go around me!" I screamed at the stupid riders who were jamming up "Well, I have two races under my belt and I've ridden your bike many times around the block. I don't know why we didn't think of me sooner." "Why couldn't !leSoto be this considerate to me?" "I'll ride real careful, Rodge. Since . we have to switch riders a minimum of three times, I'll ride one lap twice and you ride the rest of the time... now, Rodger, quit it! You better not go into shock on me." "You certainly don't want to race with that girl. Did you see all the make-up she was wearing? Take me or don't ride. " "I won't ride!" He stormed away. There 's one thing I love about Rodger. When he's desperate I get my way. Fifteen minutes before our race started and I just pulled into the starting behind me. area from taking a practice lap. I finished that lap and returned the "You came back:' Rodger said, bike to Rodger. "Did I do O.K., Hon?" relieved. "HOW DID YOU CRACK THIS "Y ou don't have to worry abou t me. FEND ER ?" I found the course extremely easy. I had "Uh, you mean, it's cracked?" no problem controlling your bike and I He looked up at the sky in a hopeless wasn't even scared." I knew these gesture and took over the bike as I outrageous lies were necessary to keep slumped off. Rodger's nerves intact. "Hey, Buddy!" It was The Pest. "Ya "Let me brief you again on the think you got problems. My partner just rules," Rodger said, after he was sure his got run off the track by some idiot, gas can, toolbox, and beer were Zap. Right through the fence! Broke his positioned in the perfect spot. "I'll ride glasses. Now he can't see good 'nuff to a few laps, then we'll switch so we can ride." get your first tum over with. Wait for I was glad Rodger took off before he the guy in the red blazer at the end of heard that. But he didn't ride far. He the pit section to mark your helmet so was pushing his bike back. they'll know if we switched three times. Automatically, I felt guilty. I should Don't run into him. Ride one cautious have told him about the misses in the lap and come back here to the starting engine but I thought they would go area to give me the bike. Keep the away. clutch in. After I ride again we'll switch "What's wrong, Rodge?" you once more. Your duties after that "I thought I told you keep the R's will be to wipe my goggles and number up. Y0'1 fouled a plug! Quick - hand plates if I come in, and, oh God, what me the pl,:,g wrench ~nd a B-9." am I letting myself in for?" "A what?" "Hey, Buddy," the guy lined up next "SPARK PLUG! Do you know what to us poked Rodger, "you ridin' with a spark plug is?" yer wife?" "Sure. You use a NGK-B9. But what "No. It's Barry Higgins with a wig." does a plug wrench look like?" Rodger took his place with the other , He angrily took out what he wanted riders for the Le Mans start. The gun from his toolbox, slamming the other fired and one hundred legs dashed to tools in all directions, and mumbling their bikes. The engines fired up almost something about suicide. in unison and faded as they disappeared I thought maybe I could calm him around the hill. A few stragglers were down. "Look at it this way, Rodge, you left behind to curse and push the bikes have to expect these little things to that were temperamental. The other happen. It's not the position that riders stood anxiously by, waiting for matters. What counts is that we're their partners' return. having fun." , I though he was going to hurl the I nervously paced back and forth. I wondered why my gloves didn't come . plug wrench at me so I stepped back. He with the tips of the fingers cut out so a changed the plug with quick precision person could bite her nails. I gently and rode off. eased Rodger's toolbox on top of my "Hey, Sweetie, I think ya better have boots, hoping it would steady my legs. another swig of this. It'll relax ya.' At least I was helping Rodger and saving Wino handed me the bottle again. him from riding with some strange girl "I really hate this stu ff," I said, who would share in his glory. The nerve taking a few more gulps. of her! Darn. If she was so healthy why Rodger rode another half-hour and couldn't I let her get killed? pulled into the pits to gas up. "Take "Hey, Sweetie," the same guy yelled over, Marsha," he said, as he poured the over to me, "Better have some of this gas in. it'll put some color back in yer face." "Rodger, I don't , hink I better. I'm He held'out a wine bottle. feeling kind of funny and I'm afraid I "Nvn-no thanks. I don't drink." I saw might get hurt." Rodger heading for the pits. My head "Well, don't wreck the bike. I can started to pound to the same rhythm as still finish." my heart. I took a big breath of air but I bogged my way around the track instead of relief all I got was a mouthful until I spotted the danger flag at the of dust. "O.K., Mister, 111 take a sip of mudhole. What a pile-up! I saw a narrow that stuff." I gulped down one swallow path I could squeeze through and miss and went to meet Rodger on the line. all the spinning wheels, legs and arms. A "Get on," he shouted. "Go slow. rider trying to pass me saw it too, but I _ Ride one lap and bring that bike back in knew if I stepped on it I could beat him sound condition. Hear?" He held the through. clutch in while I mounted ' the bike. After we collided there were two "Grab the clutch," he yelled. more bikes and four more arms and legs added to the mess. Most of the riders I was a fraction too slow. The clutch slipped, the bike jumped, and we were fumbled in the slush to retrieve their both stepping on each other's toes, bikes. The spectators looked pleased trying to kick it over. that they were getting their money's I don't know how Rodger could worth. swear like th at with so many people "Get off my leg," came a patient around. When the engine fired up I voic e under me. Someone else was feathered the clutch and jerked my way lifting me roughly under my arm. "Hey , man, I couldn't avoid ramming... damn! to the guy marking helmets. He let out a painful yelp. He should have known Are you a woman?" better than to b e wearing open-toed "Mostly." sandals. "I'm glad you're all right. That was quite an endo you did!" I squeezed my way into an opening on the track between the other racers. "Thank you. I practice it a lot." They seemed to be going faster than I He helped me on the bike, then he said, "If we should meet again on the was and, unfortunately, there was no right lane. Going around the esses I gav e:nT1itr~aic k ~~ ! pray ,we don't, I'lease - give ':l ~ .". "'tl:l1:rnn:::'tt:'tlf:nJiRm:mlU.Ul~ f1 " me the benefit of the doubt." I continued along with no mishaps until I got to the sharp off-camber tum. When I opened my eyes I discovered Rodger's bike was missing. Oh, there it is, hung up on the hay bale. It looked grotesque with its handlebars in that twisted position. When I rode back to the pits Rodger didn't go into hysteria. Instead, he was genuinely amazed. "I don't believe it," he marveled. "Anyone who can ride a bike in that position should be in the circus. How did you do it?" "It was nothing, really." He straddled the front wheel and straightened the bars with a quick jerk. "Hey, Buddy," came the familiar voice. "If yer done with yer wife now, Switch'n Partners 'n l:nct-j _ I l ._ , .. ~: ._. _. ~ ~ :. r~Z'I."_~' I. , • 1;" ... " how - would ya like to swap her with me?" "Permanently?" "In the race, I mean. Like I said, my partner's out, and hell, if I kin git someone to switch with I kin at least git a finish . Is it all righ t with you, Sweetie?" "Do you need a good, fast, dependable rider?" I asked him. "Yea. But you'll do." I went over and got on his bike, just to be sure his brake and shifter were on the same side as Rodger's. "Hold it, Marsha!" Rodger ordered. "You're my partner. Do you think I want to be on that track the same time you are? Get off that bike. I'm wasting precious time with this foolishness." Before he rode away he turned to me. "You better be here when I get back and no messing around in the pits." I collapsed on the toolbox. I was done riding for the day and I was mighty hot and thirsty so I didn't resist when my would-be partner handed me the bottle. It was pretty hard concentrating on how Rodger was doing when Bay Mare was spinning. But from what I could focus in, he had slowed down considerably in his last three or four laps. Another lap and he lost speed altogether. Hang in there, Rodge! Only fifteen minutes and it's over. He came in , his face redder than the empty win jug I hit behind his gas can. "Marsha, get your helmet back on." "What ever for?" "I pulled one of your stunts: Blew the trans. I've only got second and fifth ears." g "You want me to ride it like that?" "You're only a woman. I'm no beginning Novice. I'll be damned if I'm going to be a dummy anymore, going around that track 20 mph like a paralyzed turtle!" "So you want me til look like a dummy 01' turtle?" "There's no time to argue. Get on. Here's how you shift it. Don't scream the engine. Shift easy ... " "Rodge, let's call it quits. I feel numb and dizzy. tt uy au 've got to hurry! Here - " He reached for one of his beers. ''This will clam your nerves." I took a few big swallows just to please Rodger. "Hold on, Marsha. I'm gonna have to push you to get it started. Let out the clutch when I get it going." "'Whoopie! This is fun! Faster, Rodgc:!" "Keep your foot off the brake" Rodger gasped breathlessly. The engine fired up and I left Rodger behind in a cloud of smoke. Oh my. Look how chewed-up the hoop ties are now. Up and down we go . I'll show 'em how to ride. Around the turn we go lay her on her side... ease her up again simple! Plow through the mudhole close to the fence and splash the spectators. Boy, this bike sure flies - even in second. Get off the track, flag manl Beep. Beep. Well, well, the checkered flag out at the end of the straightaway. So soon? Just when I was getting it on. Can't you steer in a straight line, bike? Hey, you crazy rider, you're going to hit me .. .now look what you did - you knocked me over. The rider who caved my gas tank in (Please turn to page 19)

• Cover