As a lifelong motorcyclist here in Minnesota, we have to take a hiatus from riding over the winter months. That’s when I catch up on reading all my back issues of American Motorcyclist.

I had watery eyes after reading Mark Bowron’s article “A Motorcyclist’s Memoir” in the December 2019 issue, as we had almost exactly the same youth experiences. My father also never rode a motorcycle, but he was the one that introduced me to motorbiking. Just like Mr. Bowron, I had a paper route at an early age, which I could handle OK during the week, but on Sundays, my father would get up early and drive me around town, helping me deliver those oversized Sunday papers.

Maybe that’s why he surprised me one summer with a homemade motorbike. It was a reinforced bicycle, with a platform welded just above the pedals, that supported a mighty 3-½ horsepower, upright Clinton lawnmower engine. A spring-loaded pulley was the clutch that supplied power through a long fan belt to a big, tin pulley that was screwed onto the rear wheel spokes.

This is where Mr. Bowron’s story and mine take different paths because once I experienced the freedom of all those country roads, I was hooked. It wasn’t long and I gave up the paper route to explore further and further from my small farming community. Gas was less than 25 cents a gallon, so for a dollar I could ride all day and still have enough change for a pop and a candy bar. By wrapping the rear tire with bailing wire, I could even ride several months during the winter.

My dad must have seen how happy I was on that motorbike, because one day I came home and there’s an old, rusty 1948 Cushman scooter sitting on the lawn. It took a little work and a lot of paint, but it soon became my new ride. It wasn’t any faster, but it had a kick starter, real brakes, a twist grip throttle and it had lights, so I could ride after dark.

Eventually, high school, girls and cars took the place of my Cushman. Then it was off to the service, marriage, a regular job and kids that mostly filled my life, but I would always admire any passing motorcycle.

Finally, in 1972, I was in the right spot at the right time and purchased an old Honda 305 Dream—a real motorcycle. Since then, I’ve moved up through the ranks with 350s, 400s, 500s, 750s, 1200s, and currently my wife and I are riding a 1500 Gold Wing.

I haven’t gotten to a lot of faraway places on my bikes, but as Mr. Bowron said, it’s not the miles traveled, it’s the experiences, friendships and mostly it’s the memories.

Thank you, Mr. Bowron, for reviving some of those great, old memories and thank you, Dad, for giving me the opportunity to have all those experiences and to enjoy the world differently—over a set of handlebars.

Larry J. Lulf | Lakeville, Minn.

 

On Frozen Ground

In the March edition of this magazine, the editors made an editing change to my original submission that may have left unclear the precise achievement of mine with respect to riding on seven continents.

I am very aware that other individuals have ridden on seven continents. To the best of my knowledge, these individuals all rode upon the peninsula and not upon the interior.

Furthermore, I am also aware that one other individual rode on the interior of Antarctica, but extensive research has not made clear that this individual rode a motorcycle upon all seven continents.

Accordingly, my specific original wording submitted read: “Resultantly, I became the first individual known to have ridden a motorcycle upon seven continents that included riding on the interior of Antarctica.”

Accurate representation of this journey is critical to me, and I welcome any feedback that provides specific evidence that another individual has ridden on seven continents that included riding on the interior of Antarctica.

Kenneth Friedman | Malibu, Calif.

Honoring Brabec

I enjoyed reading Hall of Famer Scot Harden’s write-up in the March issue about Ricky Brabec—the first American to win Dakar! We truly seem to be in an era of U.S. resurgence in off-road racing with the U.S. win at the International Six Days Enduro last year and now Brabec’s triumph.

At the very least, I would think this puts Brabec in early running for all types of awards, such as Athlete of the Year recognition from the AMA or even the Motorcyclist of the Year honor.

It’s a bigger deal, though, because it reaffirms something we all need to be reminded of from time to time, and that’s that hard work and dedication (and of course talent) get results. American riders toiled for not just decades but generations before we won at the ISDE. It took more than 40 years for one of our riders to win Dakar. They kept at it, though, trying and failing and passing what they learned to each new generation of riders until one finally broke through.

This success should be inspiration for our teams at the Motocross of Nations and any entries into MotoGP. As a fan and U.S. motorcyclist, I would have a great deal of pride if a few of my fellow Americans could stand atop all forms of motorcycle racing, and I’m sure others would too.

Mike Keefe | Lockport, Ill.

Servicar Correction

I hate to be a nitpicker, but I was looking through the December issue of American Motorcyclist about Dale Walksler’s induction into the Hall of Fame (much deserved, if I may) and may have found an error.

It says his first bike was a Harley-Davidson Panhead Servicar. I don’t think there ever was any such creature, unless it was a custom of some kind. Servicars came with a 45 ci flathead and a three-speed transmission, which made them not real great highway bikes.

Other than that, you publish a great magazine and do a great job protecting our right to ride. Thanks for all you do.

Michael Preston
Ocean Shores, Wash.