The Scene
THE SCENE
IVAN J. WAGAR
THE best news this month is the addition of Jody Nicholas to our staff. Jody needs no introduction to road race fans; his prowess on the hard stuff is almost legendary. He is rated by those who have raced against him as one of the very best riders in the world.
This does not mean that CYCLE WORLD will devote more space to road racing than in the past. For few people know that Jody is also a touring buff and has his own Honda Four. And, he is one of the most enthusiastic vintage and antique buffs I’ve ever known. His engineering background is also good and makes him one of the most knowledgeable individuals in our sport.
Educated at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tenn., where he was concert master of the Chamber Orchestra, Jody has been a student of the violin for 14 years and enjoys playing the baritone horn in wind ensembles.
Besides his first love of motorcycling, Jody lists photography and hi-fi as his most consuming hobbies, and his record collection ranges in scope from Bach to Blood, Sweat and Tears.
I first met Jody at the Webco, Inc. party at Daytona in 1966. We talked then about the possibility of his coming to work for us upon his release from active duty in the Navy. In the meantime, he was training to become a pilot, and he had just finished a tour of duty operating from an aircraft carrier in the waters off the coast of Viet Nam.
Jody will continue to fulfill his Suzuki contract this year and, time permitting, may have a bash at a one-mile dirt track or two later in the season.
We all welcome Jody and feel confident that his real love for all forms of motorcycling will enhance CYCLE WORLD’S position as “America’s Leading Enthusiasts’ Publication.”
STANDING in front of the town hall in Talledaga, Ala. at the start of the 100-mile AMA National Enduro brought back old memories. Although Talledaga is in the deep South, the town hall and town square remind me of many small communities in my native Canada. The atmosphere is reminiscent of European race scenes from many years back, in which the riders were tense and the town folk were gathered to watch riders battle the elements.
Looking around at some of the competitors, you might have the feeling that it was the start of the Isle of Man, in the middle of Douglas. Not only did the mayor of Talledaga attend the event, but a state senator and several other dignitaries were also there to wish us Godspeed on our trip.
My mood might have been a lot more serious if Bill France, promoter of the enduro and the 200-mile National road race, his “outa sight” friend, Ray Ferguson, and their two beautiful wives had not started kidding about my boots.
It all kind of started with a, “HaaaDamnn, we don’t have a trophy for the prettiest boots, ya hear?” All of this in front of more than a hundred serious enduro riders. At that point I was glad I had not worn my CYCLE WORLD jacket, and was even more appreciative of the fact that France and Ferguson did not mention my name. And all the while I hoped that nobody recognized me in those fruity boots.
At this point it is probably prudent to explain the boots, and the person behind them. When new, the boots can be seen from several hundred yards away. They are black andglossy with three vertical bars up the front (red, white and blue). Behind the stripes there is protection similar to hockey shinpads. There is a steel shank in the arch to minimize footpeg fatigue and soft leather pucker-up tops to seal the pinkies from water running down inside.
Thus far the boots may sound simple in design, but they are, in fact, the product of a couple of years of haggling between John Taylor (Yankee Ossa) and the leading ski boot manufacturer in Italy. Taylor, perfectionist that he is, would not accept the boots until they met the same standards set by the most exacting ski equipment purchaser and were also handsome and functional.
So there I am, before God and the world. Which is not nearly as bad as being before France and Ferguson, especially with those pretty boots, and I forced myself to recall how I became involved in this enduro thing anyway.
It started, to the best of my recollection, in the middle of a very serious meeting on motorcycle driver licensing attended by Doug Toms, Director of the National Highway Safety Bureau, Lew Buchanan, chief of the motorcycle division of NHSB, and some Motorcycle Industry Council representatives. At some point somebody said, “I will if you will,” and shortly thereafter we had a Talledaga 100-mile enduro team, comprised of Frank Heacox of Bell Helmets, Pete Colman of BSA, Lew and Doug from NHSB, and myself.
Buchanan became so serious about the whole thing that he went out and bought a brand new Ossa Pioneer. The rest of us, except for Colman, of course, relied on the Golden Voice (Yamaha’s PR Director, Roxy Rockwood) to con us some Yamaha CTls.
We were up at 6 a.m. but, as it turned out, we started so far back in the pack that we could have slept for at least another hour and not missed a thing. It was kind of fun, however, walking around and checking the gear on some of the really good enduro riders’ bikes, like that of Jack McLane, the Honda rider. A lot of people laugh at Hondas for serious dirt riding, until Jack flies by. He is downright good. Some riders had enough gear on the bars to confuse the pilot of a DC8, while others stuck to a good speedo and large wrist watch.
The idea of the whole thing was that we would ride as an unofficial team, all five of us. Heacox and I started together and dawdled along until the others caught up at the first check, which was 6.1 miles from the start. I knew that would put Frank and I two minutes down on time, but when he got the news, the racer instinct came out and he disappeared like a jet. Others among our loyal(?) ranks, namely Buchanan and Colman, were also bitten by the racing bug, and they cleared off. As Doug and I plowed along, we came upon Buchanan, who had stuffed his Ossa into some deep mud in a river bank. After we spent about 15 min. dislodging Lew, we took off leaving him to change a wetted plug. Not far up the trail we came across Pete, who had retired from the fray. By the gas stop at the half-way point, we realized that starting at the back has its drawbacks. It seems that some southern urchins were making off with course markers. After getting lost twice, we were down a half hour on time. It was, to say the least, a stunning blow to our ego. But it did cause us to relax and enjoy the beautiful countryside.
Being greeted by friendly citizenry along the route added even more pleasure to the rides along little-used logging roads and trails. It is little wonder that enduros are gaining in popularity all over the country. A rider can take the thing very seriously and finish within 3 min. of the time schedule, as did Leland Schilling on a 350 Kawasaki Big Horn, or ride for the sheer pleasure of a fairly quick gallop through the country.
We finished, albeit an hour late, to learn that Heacox had completed the run only 23 min. late. Bill France Jr. received a painful compacted knee injury, but still managed 5th in class, and probably would have won if he had not spent so much time thinking about my boots.
As it turned out, the only part of my body that really survived the trip was my feet. Man, are those boots the greatest.
