Science Forums 2

[Moontanman]

It was one of those days that you never forget, early spring, very warm for the time of year. Blue almost cloudless sky and the sun was giving off a warmth that had everyone out side to enjoy the weather. Anything could happen on a day like that but what did happen would forever be remembered as "The day"

Really the story starts several months before. I had been working at the local small town grocery store and making what was for me unbelievable money, $1.25 an hour! I had been riding to work during the summer on a used 125 Yamaha Enduro that I had been given as a gift two years before. It was pretty much ragged out when I got it and I didn't do it much good, seizing it up three times due to forgetting to put oil in the Yama Lube tank. Finally I had burned a hole in the piston and it had to be rebuilt but by that time my eye and my mind was on an RD 350. By early fall and many late nights at the grocery store stocking shelves until 4:00 in the morning I had finally raised enough money to buy my beautiful new RD 350 Yamaha twin cylinder two stroke.

I had haunted the motorcycle shop so much fawning over the RD 350 I think the owner was beginning to believe I has taken up residence there. But after very little haggling over my trade in or the price of the RD 350, late one cool fall night I was pulling out of the parking lot of the local Yamaha shop and tooling along the highway. The bugs in my teeth jokes must have been inspired by me my grin was so wide.

Riding to school a couple of days later was when the great rivalry was to start. About two dozen kids rode to school every day, it was a motley group of bikes almost all the dirt bikes were ragged out as dirt bikes are prone to get. The street bikes were almost all clean and polished, Honda's every one. We all had to park off school grounds due to some nit picky county rules so all us "motorcyclists" parked across the street clustered together in an abandoned sand lot. As soon as I rode up the teasing began. Most of the dirt bikes in the lot were two strokes as most were back then but none of the street bikes were. My RD 350 was the only two stroke sreet bike there. The four stroke street bike riders ran a constant dialog of insults and barbs at the two stroke dirt bike riders calling them chain saws with wheels, smoke bombs, and such. When I rode up on an RD 350 Yamaha the ribbing took an almost mean turn. Probably has beer cans for pistons, when we ride away you go last so we all don't get oil all over our bikes from your smoke. The list of verbal jabs was endless.

One guy in particular was especially condescending. He rode a 450 Honda, it had so much motor work done to it that it was rumored that the motor work cost more than the bike. It was also the fastest bike ridden to school by any of us. It was also the biggest. Immediately the calls for a drag race began. Since I had just started riding the RD it was still so different from the dirt bike I was used to I was afraid to even think of racing but the ribbing went on. Through the snow of winter when most of us rode the school bus the talk of me racing the 450 Honda went on. By the time spring had arrived the talk had reached an almost fevered pitch.

Back to The Day. It had rained the day before so none of us had ridden to school the previous day. But on such a great day everyone who had a bike was riding That Day. As was usual when I rode up Jerry Bailey, who rode the Honda 450, began to talk about how bad he would out run me if I would just give him the chance. For some reason that morning I immediately shot back. "How about today at noon in front of the high school?" I don't know why those words came out of my mouth, I had long ago decided not to race. The thought of possibly wrecking and marring the shiny finish on my RD that I worked so hard to maintain had to this point held me back. His reply of "Great today at noon!" kept echoing in my head as I attended my morning classes. "Why had I said such a stupid thing?" I started to wish for rain so I could back out with a little bit of dignity.

Meanwhile all over the school the whisper network was quickly spreading that the race was on for noon, That Day. All I could see in my minds eye was the writing on the side panel on Jerry's bike that said "Bailey's Donkey Service, We Haul Ass"

By the time lunch had rolled around the whole school was out on the front lawn waiting for the race. OK, so it was a small school but at least 200 kids were outside enjoying the sunshine and waiting for the spectacle about to transpire. I finally realized I had waited as long as I could it was time to go out side or be branded a chicken. The blue sky and warm breeze did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach or the chill bumps crawling up my spine. While I walked to my bike and put on my helmet Jerry was amusing the crowds by riding wheelies up and down in front of the school. Riding wheelies wasn't my thing to say the least but it was difficult to keep from hopping the front tire of the RD 350 into the air under hard acceleration. The highway in front of the school was about a half mile straight before going up and over a hill. I slowly got on my RD and fired it up, bringing all those bumblebees to life inside the motor. I revved the engine a few times and smelled the familiar smoke as the breeze blew it past me. I rode over to the school and made a couple of half hearted passes in front of the school to warm the RD up. Hopping the front wheel into the air as far as I dared just to try and show a little bravado.

Then at this point things started to happen in slow motion, Jerry pulled up beside me and we stopped. His girl was on behind him, she got off and walked around in front of us a little off to the side. Engines started to roar and whine, blue smoke was billowing out of my Yamaha she dropped her arm and we were off. Not really being used to racing I hesitated and Jerry took the lead by about a bike length. I goosed the throttle of the RD and hopped the front wheel into the air about two feet and really let it go. As I went past him I speed shifted to second and I was gone. The 450 Honda was loosing ground at an enormous rate. I kept shifting just before the redline and as I went past the gas station I topped out. The speedometer said 110MPH! As I went past the gas station I saw two Highway Patrol cars sitting beside the station, radar out, waiting. Evidently the rumor mill had informed someone who disapproved of drag racing! To be sure I didn't get to see the actual race but I was told later that when we took off and Jerry took a quick lead everyone was amazed as I suddenly shot past and away from the 450 Honda and it's astonished rider. I was told that Jerry looked like he was going backwards I went by him so fast. But by this time I was more concerned about the Highway Patrol car that was pulling out behind me!

The Day part 2

As I went by my mind began to race almost as fast as my motorcycle was going! What to do? As I approached the top of the hill, I saw my way out, a side road called Bean Ridge Road. The road ran back into the backwoods eventually linking up with several other small roads we dirt bike riders had taken advantage of to take us from on trial to the next. Better yet, the road was paved for several miles back into the hills and valleys. I grabbed the front brake and just barely made the turn. As I rushed up the hill heading for the ridge top part of the road that gave the road its name. I looked into my mirrors, what I saw made the blood drain from my head. A police car was turning onto the road to give chase. When I had been a dirt biker, I had seldom traveled on paved roads preferring to keep to the trails and woods. However, this road was one of the few paved roads that connected many of the trials I had ridden on before I had bought my RD. So I blasted along the narrow paved road, checking my mirrors every few seconds to see if the patrol car had given up but he was coming and gaining on me!

The road ahead had been recently paved so the road was nice and smooth. As the road ran along the ridge, it was relatively straight but with lots of dips as the road followed the terran. These dips were slowing the police car but it was still closing the gap between us. I could not go as fast as I would have liked because the dips were affecting my speed as well as the speed of the police car. I knew that just a few hundred more yards and the road would begin to twist and turn as it went down the mountain towards a meeting of three other roads. I knew if I could get far enough ahead of the officer pursuing me I would be able to loose him when the roads split up. But the curves slowed me down just enough that although the patrol car wasn’t gaining on me any more I couldn’t really pull away as fast as I would need to escape when the roads split.

As the under carriage of the motorcycle dragged the pavement on every cure I was beginning to believe my best bet was to simply stop and surrender. This would keep both my little RD and me from plunging off the road or sliding into the hillside in the hairpin curves. Maybe the officer would be a little less mad if I stopped but just as I was slowing, I spotted a muddy dirt side road. I was familiar with this road from my dirt bike days. The road led to a capped off gas well and a trail that would get me home. I rode down the muddy side road splitting the mud puddles from the recent rains at a much faster rate that I should have. As I approached the clearing that surrounded the gas well I could see the police car in my mirror making the same turn. I had hoped the police might not have seen me shoot off down the gas well road but he was coming hot on the trail. Instead of stopping at the broad muddy patch of ground, I gunned the throttle. Then in a spray of mud and water, I crossed the gas well property to the path I had used many times when trail riding. As I slipped and slid onto the trail I figured the only way I had made it this far was because I was going so fast the light weight RD sped through the mud in spite of not having knobby tires.

As I went further up the trail the lack of knobby tires made staying on the trail very difficult. As I skidded and spun my way through the woods I was smiling because I knew the patrol car could not make over the gas well property much less drive along this narrow trail.

When I made it to the top of the road I lived on the relief I felt was enormous like have a giant weight lifted off my sholders. As I drove up the long gravel dirveway to my house I was so glad that I had gotten away I thanked God and promised I would never do such a stupid thing again. I pulled up into the carport at the end of our house and dismounted a very muddy RD 350. Then I staggered inside to get out of the muddy wet clothes. I put the clothes in the washer so my mom would not suspect I had been out in the woods on my street bike. Because I normally kept the RD so clean she would be suspicious if she though I had been riding in the woods. After wrestling the street bike over the muddy trails, I was so tired I thought about taking a short nap. No one would be home for a couple more hours and after what I had been through I was shaking from both fear and tired muscles. Then I remembered my motorcycle sitting on the carport all muddy and wet. I couldn’t let the mud dry on my RD, it would be much harder to clean off. So I got out my cleaning and polishing supplies and began to methodically clean and then wax and polish my bike.

Just as I was finishing up and was putting away the polish I heard a car coming up the driveway. I figured my mom or dad had come home early and I began to go over what would be my excuse for being out of school early. As the car came into view to my dismay I saw it was a highway patrol car, a muddy patrol car! I was sure this policeman was the one who had been chasing me! As he slowly got out of his car, my mind went blank, I knew my goose was cooked! The patrolman walked up to me and asked my name. I told him but it was just an automatic response, nothing else would come out. He slowly walked over to my bike and asked if this was my motorcycle. Finally my mind block broke and I answered “yes sir”. He walked around my RD slowly inspecting it from every side. He looked at me through those reflector sunglasses for a moment and said. “Nice looking bike, you keep it very clean.” I spoke up and said “yes, I love to keep my bike clean. It’s still new and I don’t like to get it dirty. His next question was the one I had been waiting for. “Son, I had to chase a motorcycle today that looked a lot like this one. Do you have a helmet? “Yes” I replied as I furiously thought about what to say and what not to say. “Bring your helmet out here son and let me see it.” I immediately went into the house and brought out two helmets but neither was the one I had been wearing today. He looked at the helmets and looked at the clean motorcycle. Finally he sighed and said. “It would go very bad if I found the person I was chasing today. I asked around at the high school and your name came up quite a bit. Were you at school today”? “Yes, but I came home early because I wasn’t feeling good.” So far, this was the only lie I had told.

He looked the bike over again, closer this time. He stooped down to put his finger under the rear fender. As he stood up he smiled at me and said. “It looks like you missed a spot”, and showed me the mud on his finger. He stood there for another moment and then said “you be careful riding that bike it would be very bad to mess up such a pretty machine”. He smiled again, got into his patrol car and drove away!

Just as he was out of sight, my legs finally gave way and I sat down on the concrete. The relief was almost too much! I sat there for a couple more minutes, went inside, fell into my bed, and took that nap. I will never know why he didn’t get me right then but not having been busted was all that mattered. It was a long time before I ever raced again. And I managed to get several tickets over the years but “The Day” will always be burned into my memory as the one of the best days ever!

Michael