A few years ago I was enticed to begin racing cross country on a motorcycle. An old motorcycle.
An old motorcycle that was not a good cross country motorcycle 40 years ago.
Time did not change this fact.
It was often fun, though... when not being a crushing disappointment.
The machine was a 1971Triumph Blazer SS, which, for those of you who are not motorcycle geeks, is essentially a badge-engineered BSA 250. I bought it cheap, primarily due to the fact these things have a terrible reputation for exploding and the engine was disassembled and in a box,
I hammered on it a while and it looked like this when I first took it to the woods:
An old motorcycle that was not a good cross country motorcycle 40 years ago.
Time did not change this fact.
It was often fun, though... when not being a crushing disappointment.
The machine was a 1971Triumph Blazer SS, which, for those of you who are not motorcycle geeks, is essentially a badge-engineered BSA 250. I bought it cheap, primarily due to the fact these things have a terrible reputation for exploding and the engine was disassembled and in a box,
I hammered on it a while and it looked like this when I first took it to the woods:
Fast forward a few years. After a few engine rebuilds and a series of changes, refinements and modifications and it looked like this:
The bike was dubbed The Field Pig, and honestly, I should, and probably will, devote a page to it.
It certainly deserves documentation.
There were cooked engines, minor get-offs, one terrifying trailer incident, a chemical-burned crotch and miles of woodland fun.
It could be a sulky steed, though, and I kicked it over at least 48,000 times... which resulted in roughly 413 actual starts.
It was often frustrating, but nearly as often it was good fun.
Then, as I am inclined to do, I decided to move on to sillier things.
So I hunted down this:
It certainly deserves documentation.
There were cooked engines, minor get-offs, one terrifying trailer incident, a chemical-burned crotch and miles of woodland fun.
It could be a sulky steed, though, and I kicked it over at least 48,000 times... which resulted in roughly 413 actual starts.
It was often frustrating, but nearly as often it was good fun.
Then, as I am inclined to do, I decided to move on to sillier things.
So I hunted down this:
More on that later...
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