T
here were Big Dan and Big
Red, dad and mom to the
two girls, who were known
as Little Red and Blackie, along
with one boy who didn't get a
nickname. They called this one
"Magoo," and they all lived in the
Idle Wheels Trailer Park in Forest
Hill, California, which is maybe
all that we might have ever
known about the Chandler family
if Big Dan hadn't convinced a
fast Northern California moto-
cross racer to make a slightly
awkward trek to
meet his wild,
red-haired wannabe racer.
It is the early 1970s. Billy
DaPrato was riding his own dirt
bike at an OHV park called Mam-
moth Bar when a chain-smoking
("in
the morning, he would light
up a cigarette before he would
even put on his wooden leg")
Big Dan Chandler asked him to
come to meet his son, who was
pretty good on his minibike but
needed some help if he was go-
ing to become great.
"I
said, 'Okay,'" DaPrato re-
called, thinking that Chandler's
son was
just over on the other
side of the park. "Well, we wound
up riding for about half an hour
before we got to their mobile
home. Sitting out front was a
really trashed-out minibike. Out
comes Danny, and we started
chatting and quickly became
friends."
This was the bridge between
the end of one promising MX
career and the beginning of
another one. DaPrato, injured
too many times in too few races,
would soon decide to write the
conclusion to his own dream of
becoming a motocross cham
-
pion. He would start a new
chapter,
where the protagonist
was a rambunctious redhead (is
there any other kind?) who had
CNII ARCHIVES
P126
BY KENT TAYLOR
Billy DaPrato
stands next to the
"Magoo" Maico
replica he built
for the AMA Hall
of Fame Museum.
THE
BRIDGE
How the end of
one's career helped the
start of another's.
