Letters
LETTERS
WE’LL KEEP ON TRUCKIN’
Your first mini-truck feature was excusable—two times and you can’t afford it. Your magazine isn’t strong enough for it.
Do motorcycles!
We are not interested in four wheels—we don’t even like four-wheeled vehicles. They are a danger to us on the road, especially pick-ups. Did you see Easy Rider?”
W. Wilkinson
Summit, N.J.
We can understand your zeal for motorcycles, W.W., but perhaps you aren’t looking at the whole picture. For many riders, particularly dirt riders, four-wheeled transport has become a dire necessity.
Due to the closing off of many lands which were once the free domain of the motorcyclist, it becomes necessary to drive ever increasing distances to reach a place where you can race, trail ride or merely spin a few doughnuts in the sand.
A pick-up, van or camper fits naturally into the motorcycle enthusiast’s picture. Now then, W.W., isn’t it better that, every' few months, CYCLE WORLD devote a few pages to the vehicles that can provide this indispensable transport? Or would you have your fellow readers pay another 75 cents to buy a truck magazine?
CYCLE WORLD is the only motorcycle magazine offering a consistent and continuing review of motorcycle transport. We aim to keep it up.— Ed.
THINK OF THE IRONY
I would like to congratulate Midas Mufflers for its commercial in which a motorcycle pulls up alongside a car and complains about its muffler.
This is the first indication I have seen on mass media that the general public has come to the realization that cycles can be as quiet, or in some cases quieter, than cars.
I hope more agencies will use this idea as a precedent for more and varied types of ads with this motorcycle theme.
Dennis Schaffer
Queens, N.Y.
Maybe we’ll congratulate Midas, maybe we won’t. Now let’s suppose that the creative department of Midas’ ad agency said to themselves, “Hmmm. Just think of the irony that would occur if a noisy motorcyclist were to tell an automobilist that his car was too loud. ” Often, you see, a stereotype is greatly reinforced by a startling exception to the stereotype.—Ed.
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A DAY IN THE LIFE OF...
Having been stopped recently by the California Highway Patrol at one of its roadside checks, I was cited for not having the required Class 4 stamp on my license. I was not fined, the CHP inspector benevolently reminded me several times, because, “Only assholes get fined for not having the license stamp.”
Properly relieved at finding myself not to be an asshole, I proceeded to the Department of Motor Vehicles to fulfill my obligation. Sure, I’m no Gary Nixon or Sammy Miller, but approximately 12 years spent on a variety of machines including several Ducati Dianas, a Velocette Venom Clubman Veeline and currently a ’72 Norton Commando would surely be adequate preparation for whatever skills test might follow the 20 question written quiz.
Being mildly paranoid, I secretly questioned the examiner’s directions as to how I should proceed to the testing area. Surely he was aware that he was directing me to ride across a traffic island in order to get to the designated area? Convinced that he was, I chose a more circuitous route, and a more legal one.
Arriving at the testing area, an alley beside the DMV building, the examiner told me that, in addition to several other maneuvers, I was to execute a figure eight in the alley without touching a foot. A glance at the width of the alley and a fair amount of experience regarding the turning radius of the Norton inspired a “You’ve got to be kidding” retort.
He wasn’t, nor was he impressed by my suggestion that someone riding a smaller bike, say a 350 or 500 with a smaller turning radius, had somewhat of an advantage in the DMV “trials.” He assured me that, “Guys on big Harleys do it easily,” and that, “That’s really something to see!” I’ll bet.
Well, I made it by just brushing the left-hand curb with my tire, holding full lock all the way around, and dabbing once (Sorry, Sammy!), just missing the opposite curb. (Later measurements revealed I had exactly a 4-in. leeway, curb to curb.) I suggested to the examiner that I had done about the best that I could do, and further suggested that he couldn’t do it, either.
Smiling, he assured me that he thought he could, whereupon 1 hopped off the bike and offered him the chance to do so. Reaffirming his contention that he thought he could make it without putting a foot down, he declined my offer as he said he didn’t want to risk scratching my bike, although he didn’t offer to explain how successful completion of the turn would harm the Norton in any way.
Then he explained the apparently well-kept secret of turning a bike safely and efficiently: “The way you turn a motorcycle is to turn the wheel, not lean your body.” He repeated this revelation several times so I don’t think I misunderstood him.
It was then that I was suddenly relieved that he had seen fit not to demonstrate the proper way to execute a turn. But then, that would really have been something to see!
Lee Hunt
Canoga Park, Calif.
A RUN ON SNELL?
Rieves S. Hodnett, Jr. writes in your Sept. ’72 Letters column that he “can’t understand why anyone would consider buying protective headgear without (Snell) approval.”
I just had to replace a stolen helmet, and after visiting five motorcycle shops, settled on a Bell RT, non-Snell approved. At each store, I’d asked for a Snell-approved helmet first, but with one exception (a Japanese helmet that was not shaped to fit my head), there were no Snell-approved helmets in my size (7-5/8). So I’ve shelled out $37 for a helmet that I’d rather not have—but it was that or give up riding while I shopped around for a few months more.
Ivan Berger
Popular Mechanics
New York, N.Y.
ON SUNBEAM
In the April ’72 issue your contributor Joseph Bloggs describes the interesting history of Sunbeam motorcycles. At the end he asks a question about the last bikes to carry the Sunbeam name, the S7 and S8. “What was it,” he asks, “that foredoomed this paragon to extinction.” By “extinction” I take it (in historical car and motorcycle context) he means no more are manufactured, none except museum specimens remain in original condition, and none are in use.
This is definitely not the case as far as the Sunbeam S7 and 8 are concerned, because there is an active Sunbeam Club for owners of these machines. A number are in daily use for commuting and a large number are in social use, many restored to original pristine condition. About 2000 are thought to remain out of the original production of about 12,000.
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Far from being an example of “badge engineering,” may I point out to Mr. Bloggs that the S7/8 was the first, and for a long time only really new design after the war. It was advanced technically, refined, well constructed and, understandably, expensive. Although none have been manufactured since 1957, some owners have continued development in small ways. The S7 and 8 are most interesting to own and maintain, a pleasure to ride, and now becoming recognized for their outstanding design and quality. Anyone who doubts this should dismantle and reassemble one!
When introduced in 1946, the S7 was expensive. The S8 was introduced in
1949 to provide a slightly brisker performance at a lower price, but the market was not ready for highly priced machines at that time, even if as technically advanced as the Sunbeam. Had it arrived 15 years or so later, things might well have been very different. With the advances in technology and metallurgy, I think the developed Sunbeam would have been one of today’s best superbikes. Imagine the S9 with dohc 750cc in-line twin-cylinder aluminum engine (probably water-cooled), five-speed gearbox, disc brake and electric dynostarter. The shaft drive and flexibly (rubber) mounted engine of the S7/8 would, of course, continue as before. A nice little instrument cluster would sit in front of the handlebars, above a quartz-halogen headlamp, and the flashing indicators.
Apologies for taking so long to send this to you, because I receive CYCLE WORLD about a month late, am a busy medical Radiologist, and have also been riding, maintaining and restoring my
1950 Sunbeam S8.
Dr. E.J.S. Townsend
Meden Cottage,
Church Street,
Warsop,
Near Mansfield,
Nottinghamshire,
England
Delighted to hear from you, and may we compliment you on your very picturesque address?—Ed.
THE SIGNAL
Recently, while riding with my mate, an incident took place that I thought your readers might find interesting, which proved to us that awareness, kindness and consideration for others hasn’t vanished from the cyclist’s world. In addition, there is the possibility that the rider who produced these positive
feelings will read our “thank you” in print.
It was close to 7 p.m., and we were a few miles out of Frenchtown, N.J., on Route 12, heading back toward New York City after a wonderful day of riding in Pennsylvania, when I noticed a cyclist approaching us, riding in the opposite direction. As we usually do whenever riding, we were prepared to give the hand gesture of greeting when I noticed his headlight blinking on and off rapidly. Continuing to blink his light, he was motioning with his hand in a rapid manner—up and down, low to the road.
At first, I thought he was in need of aid, but he didn’t appear to slow down. I then began to assume that he was attempting to convey a message relative to my cycle. It appeared to be functioning well and I ruled this out while slowing down as an act of caution.
Coming to a rise on the road, his message was clear as I saw red, blinking lights in the immediate distance ahead. Slowing down to a crawl, we saw automobiles parked on both sides of the road and police emergency equipment through the area. A trailer truck had overturned and the message our cyclist friend (wearing a black shirt and smoke-colored face shield) intended was obvious, and appreciated.
This unknown rider didn’t have to do what he did. Yet, he was considerate enough to attempt to warn us that an accident had taken place and for us to use caution.
Having been sick for over a month, and this being our first ride in some time, no amount of medication or pills could equal the good feelings experienced by the thoughtfulness of this “Knight in Black.”
He may never see this letter, but I do hope you can find the space to print it as I would like other riders to know that there are people out there who do care!
To all of you riders we pass and never meet, we thank you for the simple act of “communication”—however brief. It never fails to brighten our lives on and off the road.
Ziggy Willmann
Bronx, N.Y.
