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Tag: memories

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MZ’s Moto Memories, Part 5

When I was about 13, I bought myself a brand-new 1972 Jawa “Cross 90” (that’s what it said on its sidecover) from Don Heida at Heidacycle in Fenton, Missouri. It listed for $275, about the cheapest new 90 one could buy at that time, and I paid an extra $20 to get some new Nitto knobbies on it in place of the stock Czechoslovakian rubber that it came with. Total price was $295 out the door. I even still have the bill of sale for it in a box in my garage attic somewhere!

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Type II Fun

“Let’s go rescue Max!” I exclaimed to Rob.
Rob Brooks is Road Dirt’s owner, editor, chief cook and bottle washer and I was in Rob’s living room, having flown from Washington State to his house outside of Atlanta, Georgia to ride Honda’s CB1000R Black Edition and Triumph’s lovely Speed Triple 1200RR.  As I fed Rob’s dog Dez copious amounts of cookies under the table, Rob was using social media to track the progress of Max Flinders, MotoAmerica Superbike racer and all around good guy, whose tow rig puked transmission parts, stranding him in Alabama.  Rob’s reaction to my suggestion was predictable.

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Challenges to Memories

My friend Mike Hinton is a fighter and a survivor. A retired career uniform police officer, a loving husband and father of three, and in recent years a jovial grandfather, Mike has faced many challenges in his life, each making him stronger and more resilient. A man of deep faith, with a great love of family, friends and travel, Mike knows the value of shared experiences with people you care deeply about. Currently battling an aggressive cancer, Mike has accepted the challenge and like every other occasion in his life, has endeavored to navigate it with faith, courage and resolve. An avid motorcyclist since his teen years, Mike has chronicled some amazing adventures in his life, and I’ve been privileged to share some of those with him. In his own words, “As young men, we seek out challenges in our lives then savor the victory of the conquered challenge. As we get older, we may still seek out challenges that fit our age and health, but the memories that we look back on and those that we still are creating are now more important than the challenges and their victories.”

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Libby Accidentally

Our plan was grand: my cousin and riding buddy Dave “White Girl” Wensveen and I would tour Yellowstone, Beartooth Pass and Glacier National Park in one giant sweep, gathering them all like kids plucking pastel eggs from the green grass on Easter morning.  We crammed White Girl’s Dodge diesel pickup camper full of provisions, stowed our twin VFR800s in the trailer and pointed the Dodge’s hood east.  Things went wrong as soon as we left the driveway.

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To The Man I Never Met

This one goes out to the man I never met, to the man who read my stories, loved my work and now is gone forever. Your name was Robert Terrance Brooks Sr. and you were my editor Rob Brooks’ father.

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