Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1970's

roa at motorcycling By Lois Carey "Aw Mom, old ladies don't ride motorcycles. You're embarrassing me in front of my friends. Every time one of them sees yo"u riding down the street they make a big deal out of the fact that Mark's 01' Lady was buzzin'.around town on her trail bike the other day; or stuff like that. Do you haf'ta ride in public? Why don't you just stick to desert trailing so I don't have to make excuses for you, huh?" That's the kind of reaction I get from my youngest son Mark, age thirteen. My older son Craig thinks Mom's cycling IS great, but he's a bike buff himself so ~e doesn't give me a hard time. Craig knows how much fun it is to ride. 8esides, what's this "old' lady" stuff. Hell, I'm only forty. Not exactly what I'd class a "one foot in the grave" sort of situation. Lots of gals are getting hooked on two-wheelers. It's no longer considered unlady-like for a woman to mount a bike solo. In fact, where it used to be that Dad and the boys saddled up and took off from a desert camp on their motorcycles, we now have Moms and daughters, if not tagging along with the men, at least having their own machines to putt around the countryside and doing their own exploring. Like most females, got my introduction -to motorcycling by riding as a passenger sitting on the buddy seat behind a man. That was fifteen years ago, and at that time I never, never expected to be at the controls of what I then considered to be some kind of mysterious mechanical monster. Lots of fun but still a monster. But, as in any habit, hobby, passion, addiction or whatever you wanL to call it, the seed begins to grow and before long you're caught. I loved the excitement, the wind and fresh air that comes with riding as a passenger, but, as time passed, I had to know what it was like, alone on that two-wheeler and completely left to my own devices. So, I became a motorcyclist. As I said, the seed seemed to grow and lI:row. Everv memory I've had concerning motorcycles is a pleasurable one, starting with that first ride. I was a working mother and a divorcee, those fdteen years ago; feeling a little sorry for myself and disappoin ted with the cards life seemed to be dealing me. I'd been introduced to a young man who tried to convince me that the best prescription for the "blahs" was a pleasant afternoon ride on the back of his bike. After saying UNo" several times to this persistent guy, I fmally agreed to take a short tour as a passenger on his big "Harley Hog." That's all it took! The ride really did cure the "blahs" and opened up a new world for me. It was wonderful! Other bikers waved to us in passing and there seemed to be a camaraderie in that motorcycle set ·1 'd never before experienced. We rode through the foothills around Los Angeles in shirtsleeve weather. When it came time for dinner, we slopped at a restauran t.and ordered a pizza to go. Picture this, if you will We're riding down the avenue toward home with my date at the controls. I have my arms around him from behind and I'm balancing a large hot pizza in a cardboard box in fron t of his chest as we ride. People in traffic are smiling, poking and pointing at us and we're grinning back and having a heck of a good time. A great way to end my first motorcycle ride. Life's card dealing was improving. From that poin t in time things just got better. My young man and I rode to remote corners of Southern California and saw places and things I'd never even knew existed. Motorcycle touring moves at a different pace than auto travel. We stopped at small settlements in the hills and deserts and just visited with the country folks. Sometimes we'd ride to a stream or lake to fish or take pictures. I still hadn't piloted a machine by myself yet, but I was learning the feeling of freedom and the possibilities of these not·so-mysterious mounts. Next came desert exploring; still riding behind my man. I was amazed at the terrain a dirt bike could cover and in the process I discovered the "outback" of the-California deserts. I bough t an an tiquated Honda 5.Occ machine from a man whose son had outgrown it. The old hike was gutless and none too attractive, but it provided training for my two sons and myself in the handling of a two-wheeler. After buzzing around and around in the back yard for many days (good th i ng I have nice, understanding neighbors) we put the little bike in the trunk of the car and drove out to Grandma and Grandpa's house in the high desert near E1 Mirage Dry Lake. Between the three of us, we nearly rode the wheels off the tiny Honda that weekend. The die was cast. The wee black Honda 50 was only the first of many motorcycles to be adopted hy this family. My eldest son graduated to dirt bikes while I chose the ever-popular Honda 90cc trailbike to sharpen my motorcycle skill. It's awkward, even a little embarassing, the first time a grown woman puts on boots, helmet, goggles and gloves just to ride a motorcycle around in front of her friends. And oh yes, critics. I took quite a ribbing from my family and comrades the first few times I timidly rode my wobbling li ttle 90 on the desert roads around camp. But, as my 01' Man, the guy who got me hooked on this whole business in the first place says, "The only way you're going to learn is to get lots of miles under your bottom. Just go out there and ride, then ride some more. When you get tired, come back and rest awhile, then go ou t again." He. was right; there's no substitute for practJce to give you confidence in your bike and yourself. I was learning. By now I was really feeling my oats and ready for the "big time." I bought a near-new Yamaha 125cc Enduro, a machine that could take me any place I had the guts to tackle. Don't get me wrong. I'm still only in terested in trailing and exploring, not competition. What I mean is that my 125 has "stump-puller" gears and gets me into out-of-the-way spots that our four-wheel mounted brethren can't reach. I'd discovered the excitement of traveling freely under the open sky and an independence that not even a motorcyclist is able to explain to you. A lot of things had happened since that first pizza-toting ride 'way back there. Best of all is the desert. I like all the months of the year, but many people stay' av;:ay during the hot summer months. Spring is the best, with all the wildflowers and the carpet of green blooming almost instantly when nature adds rain to the donnan t plan ts of the desert. Most observers think the growth of the desert is dead. Not so. It's just waiting there for a little moisture to make it spring to life. I love seeing the yuccas and cactuses in bloom; all good subjects for my camera and colo~ film. But for me, the most fun of all is exploring. Some folks may think it's an utter waste of time to stop and look over an old stone or adobe house out in the wilds, but not me. I enjoy walking around the buildings and seeing how they were constructed while I conjure up in my mind a picture of the people who buiJ t the place. What were they like? What goals did they have? Did they succeed or were they forced to abandon their dream? This is what motorcycling does for me. It allows me the freedom to find sites like these and to do a certain amount of daydreaming myself. One thing I do find about the desert that disgusts me is what man himself has done to such a naturally beautiful place. I'm speaking of the idiots who dump old abandoned cars in what would otherwise be a lovely canyon. I find it very upsetting to be cruising leisurely Continued on page 48 IdJ ill, IX PANTS, SHIRT AND SOx. 50 BUCKS A special introductory offer to get you into Wheels of Man .•. thick, tough MX Rooster Tail pants, the cool VentShurt and matchin.o MX socks •.. get it all for $50. MX Rooster Tails are the pants you've heard about - double seat, double slitching plus they breathe in hot com~ pelition. The VentShurt is the quality vented MX shirt ... 100'% nylon which reaJly stretches. The sox are those famous breathing Wheels of Man cycle sox. It's a big package ... a big value to get you started on the right track. Make your move now ... get it all together. Wh••I. 0' Man, Box 12, .... Berlin. WI.. 53151 (Indicate color- also pants size and shirt size below. Sox are "fit all" stretch style.) Red. White and.Blue-VentShurt. white body and red sleeve..s; MX Rooster Tails, blue wifh red and white him and belt; Socks. red. 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