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/993191
P122 CN III LOWSIDE BY RENNIE SCAYSBROOK L ast week, I had lunch with a lovely gentleman named Frans VandenBroek. Engineering graduate Frans was on a motorcycling tour of Europe decades ago when he landed an unexpected (unpaid) job working with GP legend Pat Hennen, his brother Chip and Kiwi Mike Sinclair on the GP circuit in the 1970s. But before that, there was another story, which he tells you in his own words right here. I felt compelled to pass it along. "In a sea of Hardy-Table-Sons, the little Honda CB160 stood out like a sore thumb. A bright red thumb. With silver fenders and shiny splashes of chrome. But at the motorcycle swap meet in Long Beach, California, the Hardy boys paid the tiny twin no mind. They had little use for its 160cc engine, built in 1965, which probably couldn't even muster the torque required to kick-start their mighty V-Twins. I, on the other hand, saw pure gold. The CB160 was the motorcycle I always wanted. "In 1964, the California Depart- ment of Motor Vehicles granted learner's permits to drive a car at age 15 and a half. The permits also allowed riding a motorcycle. By the time I reached the magic age, I had saved $200 from delivering newspapers to buy my first bike. And the one I coveted was a red CB160 with silver fenders and shiny splashes of chrome. Unfortunately, the most that $200 could buy was a second-hand Honda 125, found in a used car lot. The motorcycle I always wanted would have to wait. "For two years, I honed my skills on the 125 and after turning 18, I decided to race it. But before I could, a letter came—from the Se- lective Service Administration. The letter began with: "Greetings." And then: "You are hereby ordered to report for induction into the Armed Forces of the United States." Fifteen months later, my ride was a US Army Helicopter in Vietnam. My seat was a canvas stool in the open cabin where I sat with an M60 machine gun in my hands. I was 19. I flew my first combat mis- sion in April 1968 and by mid-May, had lost three helicopters and two pilots to enemy action and a crash. To cope with the stress of combat, at night I would hunker down in my quarters with a stack of motorcycle magazines. I pored over every word on every page, gazed at the glossy ads, and dreamed of a red CB160, surely waiting for me back in "the World.' "'The World.' That's what we said when we meant 'home.' Almost daily, someone would shout: 'Thirty days to the World!' Or more reverently: 'Got a girl in the World.' Or hopefully: 'When I get back to PATIENCE IS ITS OWN REWARD Finally, Frans has his red CB160.