My First Trials

File Photo - But Big Red's Twin

It was late spring (I’m pretty sure) in 1975 and I’d gone to work with some guys who were just getting into off-road motorcycle riding. I was pretty young and had been riding on and off road all my life, these guys were old men (they were close to 30) and were just getting into it. One had a little SL100 Honda and another, a shiny new TL125. There was also a brother-in-law who had a new TL, as well as a really nice SL175 Honda that he was willing to part with. I had a street bike, but nothing to ride the trials with them, so I bought the 175 and we set about riding the hills every weekend. It was a blast; that big Honda weighed about a ton, but would climb a mountain if you had a good run at it. This brother-in-law had been reading about and relating all these tales of something called “Observed Trials” to us and of course we were interested. Heck, I was up for anything and even though the TLs were supposedly designed for the sport, I figured that a real “hot-shot” rider like me could wipe the field of a bunch of those sickly little scooters. I mean really, they only had one cylinder and didn’t weigh nothing! Consequently, when an actual trials event was scheduled (relatively) close by and the others decided to give it a whirl, I was first in line too load up and hit the road. We got there, entered, set through the rider’s meeting and finally got started, I was really anxious so I left the others and forged ahead on my own. It was the last time I saw those other guys that day and the last time I saw any of them riding in a trials, ever. It had rained for a couple days, the terrain consisted mostly of scattered logs strewn all over a sea of gray, clay mud. 10 sections, 4 loops and I completed a whopping 14 of them before everything conspired to beat me totally senseless. I think I pushed that Big Red (that’s what we called it) monster twice as far as I rode it that day. I was exhausted, I was demoralized, I was humiliated, and I was HOOKED! As I drove back home that day, I began plans: I’d strip the 175 of everything it didn’t need, and then maybe move the pegs back about a foot, I’d take the seat off completely and get a fresh knobby. Yeah, I could make this work. I had to because even though I’d failed miserably, I’d had a blast.

You might wonder what became of the others in my group; I found out the next day that one of the guys had gotten stuck at one of the first sections. He’d slipped to the ground and wasn’t having much luck getting the TL he was riding out of the hole he’d fallen in. The guy scoring the section jumped in to help, grabbing the bars and walking it out. My buddy thought he should be doing something, so he scrambled up and began pushing from the rear. He taken only a few steps when his feet slipped in the mud, causing him too fall forward. He caught himself on his hands, but unfortunately one of them landed between the chain and the sprocket. He lost parts of two fingers that day, along with any desire to ride trials. The whole crew (with the exception of me) witnessed the accident and came away similarly inclined. Who knows, if I’d not left them in the beginning, I might have pulled the plug myself. Jeez, that would have saved a load of time and money over the next 5 or 6 years. But then, I wouldn’t have been inclined to start back riding a few years ago. I’d have missed the fun I’m having now and the time spent seems well worth it at the moment.