In the early 1970’s, my father built a house in a new sub-division on land from an old dairy farm in Fairfield County, Connecticut. While we were definitely not an affluent family at that time, due to my old man’s “business dealings” we were upwardly mobile and it was decided that we should live in a new house in the suburbs. Better schools, better address and besides, when my father decided we were going to do something, that was that!
In retrospect, I was glad to move. We were living in another town that was busing kids to an inner city school system (Remember integration?) and I had already learned that if I was going to survive public school, I’d better learn how to throw a punch. Those were not the kinder and gentler times of today, report bullies and all of that. If you ratted on a bully in those days, you would get your ass kicked! Better to learn how to fight back. Anyway, I survived to tell the tale. So, the move for me was completely positive and as I discussed in the previous post, I discovered motorcycles. Woohoo!
Now, the land that used to be the old dairy farm consisted of a bunch of acres of land, a portion of which was supposed to have been turned into some sort of country / swim / golf club for residents of the suburb and on that spot of land was a pond. Installed to help with run off and flood prevention for all of the new houses going in. The club never got off the ground (Thank God!) but that particular tract of land sat undeveloped for quite a few years.
For me, and a lot of other kids from the neighborhood, most of whom I still know today, the pond was an oasis.
For me, and a lot of other kids from the neighborhood, most of whom I still know today, the pond was an oasis. A place that we could go to get away from the turmoil of life, parents, school. Many summer days were spent riding dirt bikes, campouts at night, girls, etc… it was a great time in my life! It was a time when the world was new, we had no responsibilities and wanted to experience everything the world had to offer. I can remember going out on my SL70, coming back home to gas up and riding again until it was to dark to see. I went back to the pond a couple of years ago, to re-connect, but progress had inserted itself and there were many McMansions by then. Hey, the pond was now waterfront property, if only they knew it’s history. But back to the story…….
Among many, one of the significant motorcycles in my life was a practically new Honda MT250 enduro, better known today as a dual sport. This model was a turning point for Honda in that it was one of their first two strokes. I spent a lot of time on this bike (as did a lot of my friends) out at the pond.
My father had a close friend that he kind of looked out for in an older brother sort of way. Nobody ever used the term “mentor” back then but they shared a lot of the same interests, guns, cars, motorcycles, stuff like that and I guess he was a mentor to this fellow.
I first saw and rode the bike about a week before it arrived in our driveway.
Whenever this guy would get a little tight on cash, my father would help him out by buying personal items off of him. Hunting rifles, a really nice 1969 Corvette 350 / 350 horse, and a relatively new Honda MT250. I first saw and rode the bike about a week before it arrived in our driveway. My dad and I were visiting this guy and looking back, my dad was probably there to bail out his buddy. A week later, I arrived home after running errands with my mother and there was the Honda. Sitting in our driveway. All right, a new motorcycle!
At first, my dad rode the bike on the street and I can remember riding passenger on the bike with him at the bars. My dad hated two strokes though and didn’t ride the bike for long. He came from an era when two strokes were strictly utilitarian, Whizzers, BSA Bantams and bikes like that. I, on the other hand, loved two strokes, still do. (RD 350 / 400’s TZ Yamahas, Kawasaki H1 / H2’s.) After a while, I assumed the Honda and stripped off all of the lights, turn signals, big boxy tail light, anything street related. Now I had a proper dirt bike to ride out at the pond.
After observing his riding style on a couple of occasions, my buddy said “hey look, this guy’s a turkey”. Instantly, he became known as The Turkey Man.
As time passed, word of the pond got out to the local dirt biking community and “outsiders” would show up. Hey this was OUR POND! I mean, I actually had permission to ride there from the owner who was one of my dad’s business partners and also our family dentist. This was our territory. Anyway, one of the guys that began to show up on a semi-regular basis was an older guy on a Kawasaki 350 Bighorn. I say that he was older because at the time to us, being fourteen or fifteen, anybody over eighteen seemed old. (Except for my eighteen year old girlfriend, but that’s another story.) After observing his riding style on a couple of occasions, my buddy said “hey look, this guy’s a turkey”. Instantly, he became known as The Turkey Man.
Up until that point, I hadn’t yet participated in an organized motorcycle race. I knew I was going to be a motorcycle racer, felt that was my calling but it hadn’t happened for real yet. So one afternoon when we were all hanging out at the pond, The Turkey Man showed up and I asked him if he wanted to race. He said he was up for it so we ironed out the details. It would be a three lap race, determined where the start / finish line would be and formalized the course. I seem to remember that we even did a warm up lap and I showed him the exact trails we’d use.
I was psyched, this was it, an actual motorcycle race. Before the race, I had a little pre-race meeting with one of my buddies. He would signal me to show me which lap I was on, how far ahead I was (yeah right) and of course, the checkered flag. After all, this was a real race, we needed to do it right.
We lined up on the start / finish line, just me and The Turkey Man, I was going to spank him. Then my buddy signaled us off and the race was on excpet that The Turkey Man was in the lead. This wasn’t part of my plan. I chased him for two laps, riding that MT250 faster than I ever had before. Flat tracking around the dirt corners, braking late, stuffing the front wheel into the berm and hoping it would hook up. All of this finally paid off because as we were about to enter the last turn of the last lap, I caught The Turkey Man and passed him. Just thinking about it all those years ago is getting me revved up. It was perfect, I set him up in a tight first gear corner that I took in second gear, came up the inside, the bike drifted over into his line and I think we actually banged handlebars. I’m sure I scared the shit out of The Turkey Man. He had to be thinking who the hell is this kid that’s trying to run me into the woods.
I’ll never forget seeing my friends jumping up and down when I came out of the woods and crossed the start / finish line ahead of the man himself. Great memories!
After the checkered flag, I did a cool down lap and The Turkey Man quietly rode off.
After the checkered flag, I did a cool down lap and The Turkey Man quietly rode off. I don’t think we ever saw him again. Wonder where he is today?
I continued to ride the MT250 for at least another year or so but that was long before I learned about simple maintenance, when you’re a kid it’s more fun to ride than it is to wrench. The Honda began to feel “clapped out” and when a friend from the neighborhood wanted to buy the bike, my dad said sell it to him. Then it was gone, never to be ridden by me again.
Sometimes, when I’m daydreaming, trying get through a crappy day, I think about that day at the pond and I instantly have a little secret smile.
Sometimes, when I’m daydreaming, trying get through a crappy day, I think about that day at the pond and I instantly have a little secret smile. Remember, the older I get, the faster I was!