Sadly, Larry made it to yet another Finish Line ahead of many others. Larry was a great man with dreams and determination, but most importantly, he was a truly knowledgeable, kind hearted, and respectful gentleman that was respected by many! My sincere condolences to his family and dearest friends.
It was by fate that I just learned of Larry's passing only within a few clicks of the mouse after I just came across and read a posting he made on November 20, 2004 in The Penton Race Talk section. In a fitting tribute to Larry, using his own typed words, here is a bit about the Larry Perkins that many of us were fortunate to know:
https://forum.pentonusa.org/index.php?topic=4868.0
Larry Perkins AKA The Penton Man
ON THE MOTORCYCLE
4 times National Champion
3 times Regional Champion
6 times State Champion
ON THE BICYCLE
1982 World Champion
1983 National Champion
10 times State Champion
1994 US Downhill Team
This is a long story I recently wrote for my best friend and big brother Ron Carbaugh and it seemed a good place to share it. He has not seen it yet so you get it as he does. It is some thoughts looking back to a moment we shared unknowingly. It is long so skip on by if you feel it does not belong here. Thanks for the space. This is in honor of your belief in me Ron.
CHAMPION
If there is a moral to this story it is that every dog has his day and everything happens in God's good time even prayers and dreams. I suppose morals go at the end of stories not the beginnings so I guess I should tell you how I came to that conclusion. Most of my life I aspired to be a Champion even in my pre-teens. My first earnest attempt at it was on the motorcycle and my first honest chance at it came in my 18th year.
There is this mysterious fictional book that they put the names of Champions in. When the name is entered it is written in stone rarely to be removed. Once in a blue moon it is taken out like if you hold up a sign that says. 'Let Broc By' but that is a different story. I remember when my name was put in "The Book". It is still fairly vivid in my mind even after 30 plus years. It was late fall I think. One of those dreary almost winter Texas days. It would not have been a great day to race a dirtbike except it was in the Astrodome and it was the GNC Final. The Grand National Championship was the closest thing to a National Amatuer Championship as there was in that day. It really was more like being Dirtbike King of Texas.
I was entered in the 100cc Schoolboy class on a 100cc Penton Berkshire.that was special built by Odessa Sales and Rentals a place I worked and raced for. It was a bike designed by American John Penton and built by KTM in Austria. It was highly modified with specs from Penton Central in Amarillo. The European small bore motocross bike was in its closing days with the introduction of the YZ Yamaha and the Honda Elsinore. In the 100cc class however, the Japanese offerings were still modified trailbikes. However, at this level of race there were 125's that were sleeved down to 100cc leaving the Berkshire heavy and underpowered like its 125 big brother. My Berkshire was FAST though. VERY FAST. The Carl Cranke porting specs had proven in a magazine test to be the highest horsepower 100 on a dyno. But it was still heavy compared to the Japanese offerings. It was my mount though and I had won on it in Qualifiers leading up to the Dome and I hoped to win on it there.
I have always been a great starter. Partly from good timing and partly from learning some key to cheat the start or starter. In the first moto I holeshotted to the front but was quickly dogged by a small bore Yamaha. There was one long straightaway one turn from the finish and on the first lap the little Yamaha blew by me there. For a bit I stayed within striking distance but each time we came to that stretch the lighter-faster Yamaha with the better youngman aboard pulled farther away. By the last lap he was in sight but no longer in striking distance.
Being the eternal optimist I was not bummed at finishing second in the first moto because I knew if I could win the second I would win first overall. My positive mind was sure if I got an even better start somehow I could win. There was no physics to back this up just faith. I drew a better start position in the second moto and the lighter faster Yamaha with the better youngman aboard drew the outside which played to my advantage.
I rocketed to the front at the start and the Yamaha was back in traffic though at the time I did not know what was going on behind me. I just kept looking forward and seeing clear track. The Yamaha made quick work of the bikes in its wayand by the second lap I was feeling the breath of the little Yamaha on my back. Then right at the end of lap three on the long straight the Yammie went by.
I began to lose hope when at the end of four he was almost out of reach. As we went down the long straight on the final lap with only a corner and a short straight to the finish left I knew in my heart the lighter-faster Yamaha with the better rider was going to win. He was half a straight ahead as he went into the final corner and I no longer had my gaze fixed on him up ahead. I was looking more directly in front of me and thinking that second in such a big race was excellent and that there would be other years and other Championships. Then above the scream of my noisy two-stroke motor I heard a strange sound from the crowd. I can not really describe it but it was loud enough to catch my attention and I riveted my eyes farther up ahead again. To my amazement the little Yamaha and its rider were on the ground in the final corner. I was told later he went just a hair fast into the corner and washed out the front wheel.
It was forever in my mind as I closed the gap between him and myself. I rocked towards the corner and all along he scrambled up, hopped onto his bike, and stabbed at the kickstarter. His bike fired and started on the second kick but somewhere between then and the fraction of a second it took for him to let the clutch out I went by him on the outside. It was only a short distance from the last corner to the finishline and the checkered flag. It was like zooming in a camera-zip-zip-zip and I was there.
I had no idea what kind of feeling such an alternate ending would bring but to say the least I was pumped. I also remember feeling lucky too and over the years realized the best rider had not won but that the best rider had just made the last mistake and I had been handed a Championship. I remember that day my Grandfather saying, "Even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then". None-the -less it was my moment and they put my name in "The Book". I remember thinking, 'This will happen again. I will win many Championships in my career racing'.
It did not happen again. Not in the Astrodome, not in the GNC, not in the AMA as a pro. I won Sate titles but no National ones. I spent a good portion of a lifetime chasing a dream that again and again was thwarted by faster young men and eventually faster men on better machines. I let go of the dream and eventually moved on to bicycle racing where I won a World Championship and a National Championship. They too were important Championships that I won and were not handed to me but my heart remained with the motorcycle and my far away dream.
When I turned thirty I dreamed again and thought that in the Amatuer Over Thirty class I could win a National title. I won the State Over Thirty Championship and won the Regional Qualifier for the National Final at Loretta Lynn's. So I went there to fufill the dream. I was mowed by many faster men and finished somewhere in the latter part of the top twenty. I had poor starts, was not comfortable with the double jumps that had come with the long travel motorcycle, and was even lapped by Brad Lackey and Barry Higgins. I vowed to get better and come back next year. I became a better jumper but before next year came I cased a triple jump and was bounced off the bike. The end result was knee and back surgery. Once again I gave up motorcycles and the dream.
I participated in several hobbies over the years and won other Championships but the dream was gone and physically I did not think I could ever return to motorcycling because of my back. It was just an unanswered prayer and life went on.
In 1999 I heard about Vintage motorcycle racing but for the life of me could not understand why someone would want to race those old bikes again. Then I saw a restored Penton. I had not seen one since 1977 the year John Penton went out of business. It brought back many memories of my Penton and KTM roots and I thought Vintage racing would be fun. So I bought a 1973 Penton and went racing in 2000. I won the Regional Championship that year and went to my first Vintage National at Mid-Ohio where I narrowly missed first place. I was stoked with second, though, as years before I had raced at Mid-Ohio as a privateer and had gotten a whipping. The dream resurfaced and I decided to race the National AHRMA series in 2001.
To end a long story I will simply say after many miles, lots of hard work, and help from two shops I became the Historic 250 MX National Champion, the Historic 500 MX National Champion, and the Historic Cross Country National Champion. Almost thirty years afterriding the little Penton Berkshire in the Dome and twenty four years after Penton motorcycles had ceased to exist the dream and the prayer were answered. I guess like it is said, 'It's not over till the fat lady sings'.
I feel very fortunate that I lived long enough to be blessed with the opportunity to fufill a dream. Who would ever have thought the blind hog would find another acorn much less three of them in one season. Vintage racing has helped the little kid from Texas live on in my mind forever and that thought has me believing that I can perhaps get lucky again. So the fifty-year-old man will dream again. Who knows what could happen? In God's time it will unfold. Did I mention I always dreamed of making the ISDE team?
It was by fate that I just learned of Larry's passing only within a few clicks of the mouse after I just came across and read a posting he made on November 20, 2004 in The Penton Race Talk section. In a fitting tribute to Larry, using his own typed words, here is a bit about the Larry Perkins that many of us were fortunate to know:
https://forum.pentonusa.org/index.php?topic=4868.0
Larry Perkins AKA The Penton Man
ON THE MOTORCYCLE
4 times National Champion
3 times Regional Champion
6 times State Champion
ON THE BICYCLE
1982 World Champion
1983 National Champion
10 times State Champion
1994 US Downhill Team
This is a long story I recently wrote for my best friend and big brother Ron Carbaugh and it seemed a good place to share it. He has not seen it yet so you get it as he does. It is some thoughts looking back to a moment we shared unknowingly. It is long so skip on by if you feel it does not belong here. Thanks for the space. This is in honor of your belief in me Ron.
CHAMPION
If there is a moral to this story it is that every dog has his day and everything happens in God's good time even prayers and dreams. I suppose morals go at the end of stories not the beginnings so I guess I should tell you how I came to that conclusion. Most of my life I aspired to be a Champion even in my pre-teens. My first earnest attempt at it was on the motorcycle and my first honest chance at it came in my 18th year.
There is this mysterious fictional book that they put the names of Champions in. When the name is entered it is written in stone rarely to be removed. Once in a blue moon it is taken out like if you hold up a sign that says. 'Let Broc By' but that is a different story. I remember when my name was put in "The Book". It is still fairly vivid in my mind even after 30 plus years. It was late fall I think. One of those dreary almost winter Texas days. It would not have been a great day to race a dirtbike except it was in the Astrodome and it was the GNC Final. The Grand National Championship was the closest thing to a National Amatuer Championship as there was in that day. It really was more like being Dirtbike King of Texas.
I was entered in the 100cc Schoolboy class on a 100cc Penton Berkshire.that was special built by Odessa Sales and Rentals a place I worked and raced for. It was a bike designed by American John Penton and built by KTM in Austria. It was highly modified with specs from Penton Central in Amarillo. The European small bore motocross bike was in its closing days with the introduction of the YZ Yamaha and the Honda Elsinore. In the 100cc class however, the Japanese offerings were still modified trailbikes. However, at this level of race there were 125's that were sleeved down to 100cc leaving the Berkshire heavy and underpowered like its 125 big brother. My Berkshire was FAST though. VERY FAST. The Carl Cranke porting specs had proven in a magazine test to be the highest horsepower 100 on a dyno. But it was still heavy compared to the Japanese offerings. It was my mount though and I had won on it in Qualifiers leading up to the Dome and I hoped to win on it there.
I have always been a great starter. Partly from good timing and partly from learning some key to cheat the start or starter. In the first moto I holeshotted to the front but was quickly dogged by a small bore Yamaha. There was one long straightaway one turn from the finish and on the first lap the little Yamaha blew by me there. For a bit I stayed within striking distance but each time we came to that stretch the lighter-faster Yamaha with the better youngman aboard pulled farther away. By the last lap he was in sight but no longer in striking distance.
Being the eternal optimist I was not bummed at finishing second in the first moto because I knew if I could win the second I would win first overall. My positive mind was sure if I got an even better start somehow I could win. There was no physics to back this up just faith. I drew a better start position in the second moto and the lighter faster Yamaha with the better youngman aboard drew the outside which played to my advantage.
I rocketed to the front at the start and the Yamaha was back in traffic though at the time I did not know what was going on behind me. I just kept looking forward and seeing clear track. The Yamaha made quick work of the bikes in its wayand by the second lap I was feeling the breath of the little Yamaha on my back. Then right at the end of lap three on the long straight the Yammie went by.
I began to lose hope when at the end of four he was almost out of reach. As we went down the long straight on the final lap with only a corner and a short straight to the finish left I knew in my heart the lighter-faster Yamaha with the better rider was going to win. He was half a straight ahead as he went into the final corner and I no longer had my gaze fixed on him up ahead. I was looking more directly in front of me and thinking that second in such a big race was excellent and that there would be other years and other Championships. Then above the scream of my noisy two-stroke motor I heard a strange sound from the crowd. I can not really describe it but it was loud enough to catch my attention and I riveted my eyes farther up ahead again. To my amazement the little Yamaha and its rider were on the ground in the final corner. I was told later he went just a hair fast into the corner and washed out the front wheel.
It was forever in my mind as I closed the gap between him and myself. I rocked towards the corner and all along he scrambled up, hopped onto his bike, and stabbed at the kickstarter. His bike fired and started on the second kick but somewhere between then and the fraction of a second it took for him to let the clutch out I went by him on the outside. It was only a short distance from the last corner to the finishline and the checkered flag. It was like zooming in a camera-zip-zip-zip and I was there.
I had no idea what kind of feeling such an alternate ending would bring but to say the least I was pumped. I also remember feeling lucky too and over the years realized the best rider had not won but that the best rider had just made the last mistake and I had been handed a Championship. I remember that day my Grandfather saying, "Even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then". None-the -less it was my moment and they put my name in "The Book". I remember thinking, 'This will happen again. I will win many Championships in my career racing'.
It did not happen again. Not in the Astrodome, not in the GNC, not in the AMA as a pro. I won Sate titles but no National ones. I spent a good portion of a lifetime chasing a dream that again and again was thwarted by faster young men and eventually faster men on better machines. I let go of the dream and eventually moved on to bicycle racing where I won a World Championship and a National Championship. They too were important Championships that I won and were not handed to me but my heart remained with the motorcycle and my far away dream.
When I turned thirty I dreamed again and thought that in the Amatuer Over Thirty class I could win a National title. I won the State Over Thirty Championship and won the Regional Qualifier for the National Final at Loretta Lynn's. So I went there to fufill the dream. I was mowed by many faster men and finished somewhere in the latter part of the top twenty. I had poor starts, was not comfortable with the double jumps that had come with the long travel motorcycle, and was even lapped by Brad Lackey and Barry Higgins. I vowed to get better and come back next year. I became a better jumper but before next year came I cased a triple jump and was bounced off the bike. The end result was knee and back surgery. Once again I gave up motorcycles and the dream.
I participated in several hobbies over the years and won other Championships but the dream was gone and physically I did not think I could ever return to motorcycling because of my back. It was just an unanswered prayer and life went on.
In 1999 I heard about Vintage motorcycle racing but for the life of me could not understand why someone would want to race those old bikes again. Then I saw a restored Penton. I had not seen one since 1977 the year John Penton went out of business. It brought back many memories of my Penton and KTM roots and I thought Vintage racing would be fun. So I bought a 1973 Penton and went racing in 2000. I won the Regional Championship that year and went to my first Vintage National at Mid-Ohio where I narrowly missed first place. I was stoked with second, though, as years before I had raced at Mid-Ohio as a privateer and had gotten a whipping. The dream resurfaced and I decided to race the National AHRMA series in 2001.
To end a long story I will simply say after many miles, lots of hard work, and help from two shops I became the Historic 250 MX National Champion, the Historic 500 MX National Champion, and the Historic Cross Country National Champion. Almost thirty years afterriding the little Penton Berkshire in the Dome and twenty four years after Penton motorcycles had ceased to exist the dream and the prayer were answered. I guess like it is said, 'It's not over till the fat lady sings'.
I feel very fortunate that I lived long enough to be blessed with the opportunity to fufill a dream. Who would ever have thought the blind hog would find another acorn much less three of them in one season. Vintage racing has helped the little kid from Texas live on in my mind forever and that thought has me believing that I can perhaps get lucky again. So the fifty-year-old man will dream again. Who knows what could happen? In God's time it will unfold. Did I mention I always dreamed of making the ISDE team?