Cycle News is a weekly magazine that covers all aspects of motorcycling including Supercross, Motocross and MotoGP as well as new motorcycles
Issue link: https://magazine.cyclenews.com/i/125829
Page 24 October 9, 1973 The call1per and the trail rider IIAELLI Molorcycl. Tire, I'~~ The everyday tires that are used as professional racing tires. West Coast Distributor Dealer Inquiries Invited ~~~.e-..... Moto'tc.1 cLe 360 15406 Cab rita Rd. Van Nuys. California 213·780·1525 CZ,MONARK,CARABELA we carry the finest racing machines for everyones needs. Take advantage of Our sensational year end sale and save $$$. 7550 Balboa Blvd. Van Nuys, Cal. 914D6 213 - 185·5336 I';". ~ WHITTIER HONDA ~~~r~~Bell Helmets Full Bore Producls WHITTIEF! HONDA ' Can they coexist? By AI Foster • Every once In a 'while I climb on a bike and ride the pegs through the woods. So ~®m~·ads that makes me a weekend woods14324 E. Whittier Blvd. (213) 698.Q065 compi.te stOCk of parts ana accessorIes . for street and dIrt CYCLE 1?:J~~~ Husqval'na Klocker's SALES & SERVICE 6624 Atlantie, Bell, Ca, (213) 581·3983 . t. '~:~i\,\,!.o':~~~~": CyprlSS, CA 90630 (714) 827-7421 COMPETITION MOTORCYCLE WHEELS DESIGNED, BUilT AND REPAIMD, _ _ _ _ _ SEN050¢FOACATAlOG· _ _...J ····~;;~;··CYC[E"'··'.w· ~ SUPPLY 1958 Placentia, Costa Mesa, Ca. 92627 (714) 646·3271 ~ Block nortn of 19 St. rider. But more often than not, I'm out camping somewhere by a lake or a creek, maybe lying in the sun or maybe laying out a fly-line. And on those days I can hate your guts. A lot of campers hang a trall blke on their rigs and pop-pop their way around the campground.I'vegotaseventy-yearold friend who does that and I don't mind. When I've got my mlnd set on watching a wooclPecker knock his-bralns out against a tree, any yahoo who wants to play whElel1e within earshot of my campsite is getting on my turf. Llke, you do your thing man, but don't do it on me. When I straddle a blke, I'm out for the kicks that come there. When I'm campIng, or canoeIng, or backpack1Dg, or horseback riding, then the sound of a . cycle blatt1ilg through the woods just Isn't musIc to my ears. Rlder, there are times when I just don't like you and unless we learn to share the outdoors, there won't be any left for eIther of us. So, you don't gIve a damn whether I like you or not? Brother, when the Forest Service or the Bureau of Land Management. or' the state park people hold publlc hearIngs on recreational use of publlc lands. don't thInk that I. and other people like me, aren't going to sound of! louder than a pair of unmuffled. out-of-tune pIpes headed for the bottom of the h1ll at the local roclcpUe. And. llke me or not, you gotta llve with me. All right. I'm comIng down hard on the enduro rIder. the rally rider. the hill climber and the weekend woods rider. TIlat means I'm lI1essing on your turf, on the chunk of the woods that you call your own. Tell me to stuff It in the sleepIng bag and shut my tent flap. Unless. maybe you want to know why the camper part of me Is blowing so much smoke? Climb out of that saddle for a COuPle of minutes. Squat down here on this rock where I've got a fire going and stir' uP some of the mud that passes for coffee In these pirU. Try to beacamper for a few minutes. It's real early In the spring. There are just a few campers in the Forest Service campground. If you look over your shoulder you can see the gin-clear water of the St. Francis river squeezing against the rocks. All yol\ can hear is the rush of the water. and maybe a few birds that are talk1IIg back and forth.. Down the rOlld there's a COuPle of Idds throwing frisbees wh1le their mother calIs them to come eat breakfast, Nice, right? So, across the rIver a llttle mosquito starts buzzIng, only It's a trail blke. The Forest Ranger who comes by to collect your $2 tells you that he bad kicked the famlly out of the campground the day before because the kids were running the blke uP and down the rOlld. The rules, In that campground, are that a blke rider can come In and camp, but the roads are not for playIng with a bIke. Hear him? He'S buzzing uP the fteId on the prIvate land across the rIver. Maybe when he hits the end of the fleld he'll go on lnto the woods. Drlnkanother cuP of this stuff and keep llstenlng. Now. if you listen all day, and into the night. you'll discover thatfamllyrldesthatbike uP and down that twenty-acre field all day and well after dark. Slnce you've climbed off your blke and are sitting by the fire. or walking around the woods. or taking the kids on a hlke by the river. do you want to llsten to that buzzer In the tleld for ten hours, nonstop? You're right. that's an isolated case. Just a farnJIy with a new bike and everybody getting their turn. They fIgure they have moved away from the campground. They can't see us. they don't even know we're there. Unfortunately, you and I know where they are. But, everybody Is entitled to .make some mistakes and there will be another woodPecker to watch some other time. Only, it was ducks. a flock of mallards that had settled down on a llttle lake that you reach only by driving for thirty minutes over rough logging roads. This is no established campground. just a Forest Service lake. Nobody else Is there. You're after the dUCks, not with a shotgun this time. but with a camera. You spend forty-five mInutes drifting with the wind in your canoe, hoping to get close enough to get the quletpictures you want. Now. don't mover Any movement of any kind w1ll scare them off the lake. Now you cock the shutter release. you focus the telephoto lens very carefully. Let her drift just a minute more and you have it. The Jolly Rovers weekend cyc1!ng and poker-run club makes its appearance. With a whoop and a holler, the first rIder comes down the trall on the h1l1 and twists the throttle open to run across the level ground of the dam, Beh1ndhim, at two mlnute Intervals, come the rest of the crowd. One of them sees the canoe and waves a frIendly band. None of them see the ducks. They're long gone. So, you're not frIendly and you don't wave back. Would you? There's another campsIte back In the woods on another trip. It's late fall and the colors are brown and orange and drab green with splashes of red on the sumac and poison Ivy• You pitch a tent beslde a h1Idng path that runs uP a valley. The cleared space is small. You back the station wagon In. The fire-pit that someone else left is just on the edge of the p"ath. It's rtne. man. real rtne. You broU a steak for dinner. roll In early and start the next day with a COuPle of eggs and a sllce of ham and a chunk of bread that's been heated over the fire for just a mlnute or two. Then you rig uP a spinnlng outfit and cast a llttle for the bass and blue~giU In the lake, catching a COuPle that you clean and add to the lunch menu. Now, you've about unwound from your city job. TIlat's what it's all about, At exactly 1:45 p.m., the fIrst blke spurts down the trail. It's a teenaged kid and his mother is right behlnd h1m