Sectional Harassment

Sectional harassment

UP FRONT

David Edwards

IT WAS A JOKE GIVEN IN GOOD FUN, AND I took it that way.

Upon learning that I had entered my 1985 Honda VF750R Interceptor Superbike in the "Post-War Competition" class at the recent Del Mar Concours, a friend of mine, whose husband roadraces Nortons and Ducatis, jabbed, "I believe they meant World War II, not the Gulf War." Laughs all around, including from myself.

Arriving at the concours, a fun, classy event put on by the San Diego Antique Motorcycle Club, I un loaded my recently acquired VFR, my 1954 BSA Gold Star special and my 1946 Velocette GTP. An eclectic trio, but, then, I've got eclectic tastes. There were a number of bikes already lined up in the post-war competition row, so I pushed my Superbike down the line, looking for an open slot. I never quite made it.

From behind came a couple of voices just loud enough to make sure I heard. They were not joking. "He's not going to park that Jap bike here, is he?" said one. "God, I hope not," said the other. Before I could respond, an official from the club approached. "Japanese bikes are around the corner," she po litely instructed.

I i~eplied that I had not entered my bike in the Japanese class, that it was entered in the class lined up here.

She stepped closer and earnestly informed me that the theme for this year's show was "A salute to the mo torcycles of England," and that the club would prefer it if only machines from Britain were parked up front.

I could have informed h~r that my Honda had as much racing history as any Britbike on the grounds, that it had led much of the Daytona 200 with Wes Cooley at the controls, eventually to finish second after be ing passed by a certain Freddie Spen cer on a similar machine. I could have told her that my VF75OR was as rare as clean air in L.A., that Honda Racing Corporation handcrafted only 25 or so, and that it was chock full of enough exotic, outlandish bits and pieces to make even Kevin Cameron's head spin.

I did not. Instead, after being assured that the judges would rate the Honda in the proper class no matter where it was parked, I pushed the bike around the corner and almost out into the far parking lot, which is where the Japanese motorcycles were to be displayed.

I was a little hot, but mainly disap pointed. Not because one of my mo torcycles had been blackballed, but because a motorcyclist-me-had been snubbed by fellow motorcy clists for nothing more than the type of bike he owned. Yet, I was the same person whose BSA would later in the afternoon be judged best-in-class, with the same stories to tell, the same insights to share, the same opinions to put forth.

I've run into this before. You prob ably have, too.

There was the time I pulled into the local Sunday-morning hangout on a Harley-Davidson Big Twin, only to be ignored by the sportbike crowd on its Ninjas and FZRs and GSX-Rs, the same folks who had eagerly gath ered around a few weeks earlier when I zoomed up on the latest ZX-7.

There was the BMW rider who called the Honda CBR 600 I was test ing a "rice rocket," and flatly refused to hear my arguments that the CBR was one of the better all-around bikes on the market, stating that he had never ridden anything but a Beemer, and had no intention of ever doing otherwise.

There was the procession of pass ing Harley riders, not one of whom acknowledged my wave from the sad dle of the Yamaha Venture touring bike I was riding.

The sport/ho'iby/lifestyle/business of motorcycling is made up of many diverse sectors. It really is a rich, ran dom tapestry of people, machines and events. We celebrate that diver sity in every issue of this magazine, and especially in this edition, which marks Cycle World's 30th year of publishing. Sadly, though, there are too many among us who have too lit tle tolerance, too little interest, too little regard for motorcyclists outside their own small splinter group.

We are capable of pulling together, and good things happen when we do. We saw it in 1987, when U.S. Sena tor John Dan forth, fed some errone ous information by the Insurance In stitute for Highway Safety, introduced a bill that attempted to ban high-performance motorcycles. Letters, telegrams and phone calls from a broad spectrum of riders-and some intense lobbying by the AMA's legislative crew-convinced Dan forth to withdraw support for the bill, which never made it out of committee.

If you think the forces behind that bill have gone away, think again. As the 20th century winds down, more and more hand-wringing alarmists, desirous of a "no-risk" society, will be trying to protect us from what they see as that most dangerous of all predators: ourselves. Recently in California, one misguided state assemblyman, using scare tactics and figures that were all but fabricated, ram-rodded helmet legislation into law. Others, no doubt, would just as soon see motorcycles banned alto gether. And they don't care if you ride a Gold Wing or a Gold Star, an Excelsior or an EX500, a Sportster or a sportbike.

As motorcyclists, we run into enough stereotyping and small think ing from governmental pen-pushers, insurance industry do-gooders, envi ronmental whackos and a generally unsympathetic populace at large.

Is it too much to ask that we don't discriminate against one another?