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/126040
Bu t I came through all the traffic, and in 200 miles never missed a single gear change or braking point. I only got fourth or fifth out of it, but I never in my life rode a motorcycle better than that." "And of the races you've lost," he was asked, "which loss was the hardest to accept?" , This time there was no hesitation. "It was either 1972 or '73 on a mile track in Denver, the kind of track evcryone else hated - there were big holes and humps and dust, a real wide open fast track. "I was on a motorcycle maybe 25 mph too slow, and was starting in the back." But in the race that followed, " Picking a crazy line through the holes that no one else wanted," he bolted in and out of traffic and was leading when the engine blew up. "That one was the one I most wanted to win," he smiled, "1 didn't accept the loss too well, either." Bailing off the National trail doesn't mean that he is through with motorcycle competition. Motocross - the most physically bruising racing - has always intrigued Mann and he made good showings in his infrequent starts. , "It's a neat sport on the local level, even though there is damn little money in it. But what is appealing to a racer about motocross is that five, six times a day he can get out there and race." His age, however, disqualifies him from professional motocross, which he says is difficult to compare with flat dirt track. •' . "At pro motocross I have a 20-year depth on the other riders and I realize it 's too late for me. I've missed out -on it. In a physical way , it 's harder than fIat track. "But in flat track racing the mental abilities are harder, the variables more minute and costly. In motocross, the consequen ces of a crash arc usually ..s.. - 0.. <: minimal" That leaves him the burgeoning sport of long-distance trials, and competing in the exhausting Two-Day Trial Championship Series. That leaves him the burgeoning sport of long-distance trials, and competing in the exhausting Two-Day Trial Championship Series leading up to the annual International Six Day Trials. Dick Mann ' is perfectly attuned to this type of motorcycling. Slogging through woods and across rivers on the back of a two-wheeler he personally prepared, pitting his stam ina and resourcefulness against nature as well as other riders, and .carrying on even while injured - the lonely glory of this appeals to something in Mann. "One of the best things about a trials meet," he says, "is that you can do one without having a huge crowd around you." . Mann has never needed an overfilled, cheering grandstand to bring him to a competitive lather. Because he always raced motorcycles out of fun as much as anything else, one of .th e races he used to look forward to the most wasn't a professional meet at all. "It was the annual New Year 's Day race, an old Northern California tradition. Seven in the morning • everyone would meet at a favorite San Francisco restaurant, then we'd all ride down to a secret course. "All manner of viciou s bikes always showed up fuel -burning hill climb bikes running skid chains and what have you. There was no entry fee, no rules, no nothing. The finish was at the end of 'a ridge of mountains. And there couldn't be an y cheating be cause no one had ever seen the course be fore. "They fired a shotgun and everyone took off," Mann recalls, " ou t through the artichoke patches and whatever. There was only one trophy for first, and getting second was the same as 50th. I got second in it for four years. , "The best year was when a rider named Bobby Breslin and myself, after fighting a knock-down wheel-to-wheel battle for all of 30 , miles, wheeled around the final comer to the finish still abreast. "It was the last tum, the very last turn, Breslh>fell and blocked the ro ad with his bike. I cou ldn' t pass. And finally he got up and got going and beat me. "But that," Mann added poignantly; "was all of 20 years ago . .. " "What time is it ?" he asked, sipping the red wine. "Nine thirty." Nine thirty in California meant 11,30 back in Toledo at the National. "It must be over:" he said. • -23