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/128409
The Friend I Never Met hite envelope landed on my desk while I was on the telephone the other day. Preoccupied with the conversation, I picked up the envelope, felt the weight and then set it own again without giving it a second thought. Upon hanging up the telephone I returned my attention to the envelope, only this time I was able to pay attention to the return address logo on its nank. The logo included the three letters, VMX. RealiZing what was stashed inside it, I tore into it with the excitement of a youngster after grabbing that magical first present from under the Christmas tree. More than a year after issue number 23, VMX issue number 24 had shipped. A year after issue number 23 of vintage-dirt I never met Ray in person. I only got to know him a little bit via a few telephone conversations and a few random e-mails, and yet when he passed away in his homeland of Australia in August 2004 after battling cancer, I felt as though I had lost a real friend. As a vintage-bike enthusiast, I don't think that I had ever conversed with a more rabid old-dirt-bike enthusiast than Ray was. His love of a past era rivaled that of any modern-day historian, and when it comes to knowledge in one's field, Ray was old dirt-biking's scholar. I say old dirt biking rather than vintage dirt biking for this reason: Ray was one of a handful of enlightened souls I'd ever met who realized that old dirt bikes didn't have a cutoff year. In fact, I was struck by something that Ray wrote in his editorial column space in the very first issue of The late Ray Ryan. All good gringos go to dirt-bike heaven. VMX, which went on sale in the winter of 1998. "If you think that production of great dirt bikes ceased magically in 1974 then please drop us a line and guide us back to the fold," Ray penned. ''And good luck, because you'll need it. But if, like us, you still get a rippling in your jocks over a late '70s CCM, or a fully resto'd RM370, then send us a cheque for 12 months subscription and you'll never yearn for another Black Label Penthouse." From that moment, I was a staunch VMX junkie, and the full-color features only increased my addiction. The inaugural issue tackled such subject matter as the trials, tribulations and ultimate spiritual rewards of bUilding a Rickman Metisse replica from scratch, the hellish "murdercycle" that was the Suzuki TM400 Cyclone, and a retrospective piece on Bengt Aberg's 1972 Motocross des Nations Husqvarna 360 works machine, which had been restored in all its glory. Later editions featured more of the same, including features on bikes from the late '70s and early '80s, unearthed works bikes, brands I'd never even knew existed, and classic vintage races such as Australia's Classic Dirt, AMA Vintage biking's most treasured publication, issue number 24 had Motorcycle Days and the Vintage Iron World made port. Championships here in the U.S. It got to where I couldI was glad to see it for several reasons. As an avid reader, the new copy meant that I would get to read about n't wait for the next envelope with the VMX logo on its some new old stuff, about dirt bikes from the pioneer days nank to arrive because I knew that its contents would brieny provide another escape into a world of nostalgic of motocross and off-road. What made me happier still, imagination, where men were men and the bikes they however, was that VMX number 24 also represented a continuation of the vision of its founder, the late Ray Ryan. rode were far more distinguishable than by the color of A 134 JANUARY 4,2006 • CYCLE NEWS the plastic bodywork that adorned them. Hell, they could have all been the same color, and you would have been able to tell a Yamaha yz apart from a C R - either of the Honda or Husky variety - or a Maico AW, Magnum, Alpha or Dual Control. Aluminum was the titanium of the day, and each manufacturer was unique. There was far less common ground with regard to what it took to go fast around a motocross track. And like the bikes, the riders themselves were unique. Each had his own character, and it wasn't defined by multimillion-dollar clothing deals or how many sponsors he could reel off without getting tongue-tied on the podium or in front of a television camera. There may never be another rider as gifted as Ricky Carmichael, Chad Reed or James Stewart, but was there ever one more gifted at over 200 pounds than Marty Tripes or Joel Robert? Or someone who made damn sure that you knew how gifted he was and that you'd better stay the hell out of his way than Bob "Hurricane" Hannah? Or someone as dedicated as Brad Lackey, Roger DeCoster or Jarsolav Falta? If there is one word that best describes the difference between the dirt-biking motorcycle world of today and that of yesterday, then it is passion. Ray had that passion, and he made it his life's work to celebrate his passion with others who shared it, through the pages of VMX. I'm sure that he never lost it, even while battling his illness. Thanks to his friends and colleagues, including his partner in life Barbara Cash and new VMX editor Ken Smith, Ray's life on this earth may be over, but his life's work continues in the pages of VMX number 24, and I believe that his spirit will live on through each successive issue of VMX. I already can't wait for issue number 25. Like those that came before it, I'm sure that it will accomplish its mission of reminding me why I got involved in the motorcycle industry in the first place and why I'm still here. Ray's final column in VMX number 23 was entitled ''All dirt roads lead to heaven." They say that heaven is what you make of it. I think that when it's my turn to find out, I'll hardly complain if I should happen to get there and find Ray Ryan, the friend I never met, leaned up against a tall tree, waiting beside a perfectly groomed motocross track, perhaps with a Les Archer Norton Manx for himself and maybe a mid-70s Husky for me. We'd finally get to shake hands, chat for a bit, and then we'd climb into our riding gear, fire 'em up and feel the magic again and again. God bless you, Gringo. eN