Motorcycling History

Sorry that I have neglected this page for a wile. Life has been just trudging along and I haven't had much to report. It has been cold and wet and the start of the Holiday session has kept me off the bike most of this month. Anytime I'm off the bike I start to think about my past rides.

It seems the earliest memory I have of riding is on the gas tank of my dads Honda XL175 in somwhere around 1974 or '75. I remember the bike was orange and I'm sure that I could pick it out of a line up if I had to. I remember they where cutting a new road and my dad and I decided to check it out. At some point he got up on top of a hill over looking the roadwork. He then went down the hill and I remember thinking that he wouldn't be able to make the ditch... and he didn't make the ditch. I was maybe 3 or 4... could have been later, I really don't have a clue.

The most famous rides I don't remember is my first little blue mini bike. I remember it had a brown seat and blue paint, but I have no memory of riding it. My mother does remember my first ride. Seems I ran over my Brother who wasn't even walking yet. Oops, sorry Bro!

I was also remembering my old Yamaha YZ80. It was on that bike that I really fell in love with motorcycling. Not going fast, not jumping, not kicking up dust or mud... just riding. You see, it was on that bike that one day way back when, I was riding with my father and maybe child hood friend. We where riding on some land near Pickwick Lake that was owned by the TVA and open to the public. We had camped in a campground that was part of the Stat Park. There was a trail that went from the camp ground to "Big Hill" It was on that trail, dodging trees and rocks that I first ever remember it ever happening to me.

I'm not sure what to call it. I have heard it called Zen, or becoming one with the machine or road. But I sure know how it feels. It's that point when your not thinking about dodging the tree, or your line through the rocks. Your not feeling any sensations. There isn't any heat, or cold. There is no pain or discomfort. Your mind is totally free and your body and the machine are working together independent of thought. You are both completely aware of every single thing going on, but your also detached from it all. Your riding completely off of instinct, and your riding well.

TVA sold off the land surrounding Pickwick in the early 1980's. Houses where built and developments where put in. All the trails are closed, but I can still close my eyes and see all the trucks parked at the base of the big hill. All the motorcycles and three wheelers. The dust and exhaust in the air. The smell of gasoline and two-stroke oil. 50 people sitting at the bottom of that hill just waiting for the next fool to give it a try.

Why can't I find any place like that to take my own children?