Remembering

[rob w]

A retrospective look back at two wonderful posts by Dane Leimbach, written here 10 years ago. For those who have never read them, and a very worthy re-read for those who have.

POG Penton Racing Talk

"My first motorcycle"
   
By - TGTech

Posted - 02/07/2005 :  8:26:43 PM

With two doctors (one neurosurgeon and one general practitioner) as uncles on my dad's side of the family, getting a motorcycle was a real challenge, even with my uncle being John Penton. (Mom is one of John's two sisters.) But through enough badgering, getting merit and honor roll grades, and working my tail off on the farm, October of 1969 was my month of destiny.

I had spent two months the previous summer, living at the home of Mr. Eric Trunkenpolz (the T in KTM) and working at the KTM factory, so I guess that after that experience, my mom finally convinced my dad that it was time that I was allowed to get my own bike.

I really don't even remember all the events of the purchase, but it seems like all of a sudden, there is was. 100cc Berkshire frame #545. I had ridden my cousin's bikes numerous times, but now that I had my own, I was in heaven. I spent much of the first few weeks riding the bike around the farm at breakneck speeds, until in November, I finally entered my first race. The story of that event has already been told in the "Inauspicious Beginnings" post.

My mechanical knowledge of motorcycles or any kind of motorized vehicle, was rather limited, but by watching and listening while around the cousins, I learned stuff little by little. One of the first things I learned about, was jetting. I learned that by having the right main jet in the bike, the power band would rev lots higher than if it was a size or two or three lean. I think when I got it, the jet was a 95, but when I finally got a 115 in it, it really woke up. Thank god for loose tolerances of an air cooled engine.

Probably the next modification, was the sunburst head. I can't really remember when or how I came by it, but it certainly looked cool, so on it went. The compression was higher, so again, the performance of the bike jumped up. If I'd only had some idea of what porting was all about, that thing would probably really have cooked.

The next really signifigant modification that I can remember, was the pipe. Since I wasn't racing much woods stuff at the time, but rather mostly motocross, I thought that a down pipe looked a lot cooler than the up pipe. Since I didn't have enough money to buy one, and since I had access to some sheet metal working equipment in the school shop, I decided to make my own.

After carefully measuring the stock pipe, I set about cutting out the cone sections of the pipe. The stinger was going to be easy, as all it had to be was a piece of EMT. The head pipe on the other hand, was another task. How was I going to bend the pipe without kinking it or having the depressions that an exhaust bender would put in it?

After speaking to some rather innovative gentlemen, I decided to do what one of them had suggested. I took a piece of tubing, welded a plate on one end, filled the tube with dry sand, packed it down, and then welded another plate on the other end. Now, I basically had a solid bar that wouldn't kink.

Next was the bending part. I took a torch, and heated the pipe, section by section, and put the necessary bend in it. I'd bend it, check it, bend it some more, and check it again, until I had the bend that I wanted.

Once that process was completed, I cut off the ends, cleaned out the sand, and then cut the pipe to the length that I wanted. All I had left now, was to roll up the cones, weld them together, and build some mounts. When I was done, I have to say, that the pipe was really trick. It may not have been any better than the stock pipe, but at least I'd accomplished what I started out to do.

Eventually, once I started riding more of the woods events, I took the down pipe off and went back to the up pipe.

I had that bike until I got my bike back from my first ISDT in the fall of '71. I don't know whatever happened to the bike, but it certainly served it's purpose.

Dane

___________________________________________________________

"Inauspicious beginning"    
   
By - TGTech

Posted - 11/29/2004 :  11:30:07 PM
 
My first race on my very first Penton, a Berkshire, frame #V595, was a hare scrambles held near Norwalk, Ohio in November of 1969. I don't remember what the condition of the entire course was, but I do remember that near the end of the lap, there was a very soft, muddy rutted section. It wasn't very wet, just muddy.

I really don't remember much about my feelings before the race started, but if it was like nearly every other race I entered in my riding career, I had a pretty fair case of "butterfly stomach". During my entire riding career, I can never remember eating a "decent" breakfast prior to the event. If I had, it would simply have been wasted in a port-a-john or behind a tree. My stomach/nerves simply wouldn't stand it. Once the green flag would drop, that would be the end of that problem, but it lived with me for my entire career.

That day was rather overcast, just like most of November in Northern Ohio, but not too cold, because all I wore over my jeans and flannel shirt, was a pair of herringbone coveralls. My simple white Bell R/T helmet with the clear full face shield was all cleaned up and ready to go, this being prior to the days of full face helmets or Scott goggles.

Near the end of the first lap, I felt that I had been making pretty good progress as I approached the aforementioned muddy ruts. Since I couldn't really tell how deep they were, I didn't just blast through them, thus assuring that if they were deep or too soft, I wouldn't go over the bars. That was a big mistake.

I didn't have the momentum to carry myself through the mud, and I got stuck, really stuck, to the point where the bike wouldn't go anywhere, no matter how hard I pushed. I let the bike stall, and got off to lift the wheels out of the ruts, like one would do in a really nasty situation. I lifted the front wheel up into the air until I could just let the bike fall over, thus getting front end free. Then I went to the back end, and lifted it out of the mire.

When I went to start the bike, it would only pop, and then stop. I thought that all the acrobatics, caused excess fuel to flood into the engine, thus loading it up and fouling the spark plug. Fortunately, my "race transporter" (dad's farm pick up truck) was close by, and I ran back to the truck, to get another spark plug. Once installed, I kicked and kicked again, to no avail. Now I was stumped. What could be wrong? (This was pre-Motoplat, so that couldn't have been it and we hadn't been in any water, so the points couldn't have been wet or dirty)

A few spectators gathered around, and helped me push the bike up to the truck, where I dejectedly sat on the tailgate, wondering what could have gone wrong. It was at that point, that I found my answer. Keep in mind, that this was in the day before mufflers, and two strokes just had straight stingers on the back of the pipes. As I sat there looking over the bike, I noticed that mine was no longer "straight through", but rather, jammed full of mud! When I had picked up the bike to release the front wheel, the stinger had been jammed into the mud, and packed the end full. Once I cleaned out the mud, the bike slowly sputtered to life, and blew out all the excess gas from my desperate kicking while still stuck and just freed. All of this took quite a while, and I decided that it was futile to go back out and try to make anything out of the event, but rather I decided to just spectate for the rest of that day. That was the beginning of my racing career.

The second race I entered, was a motocross near Kenton, Ohio, some time after winter had arrived, and the ground was about 1/2 frozen, with some snow and watery ditches as obstacles. To get right to the point, I managed to out last two of the fastest riders in the state, a young man named Jim Jerels (sp?) from the Zanesville area and a noteworthy rider from Northern Ohio, named Jack Penton. I won that race, admittedly by being better over the long haul, than the fastest. Jim's Suzuki blew up, due to the water and Jack, who had forgotten his boots, had feet so cold that he couldn't ride the second moto. This gave me a 3-1 and the overall.

I saw more than my share of successes after that, but one thing that I never managed to do, was to win a motocross State Championship. At least as a rider. Three years ago, I finally was on a winning "team". In my son's first year on a 125, he managed to win the Championship in the Schoolboy class, on his KX 125, on which I was the mechanic. I think I was more proud of that, than the second places I did manage to earn as a rider.

There's some of my most notable stories from the beginning of my career.

Dane

[Tom Penton]

(Note to the younger generations regarding the following: there were no junior trail bikes in the 1950's, or for that matter there were no specialized trail bikes at all. Heavy road bikes were converted to trail use to some degree or another and it was unimaginable for anyone under 10 to ride, and usually not at least until driver's license time.)

I remember visiting out at Uncle Paul & Aunt Pat's Farm (The End 'O Way). I'm about 8, Dane 7, Jeff 6.

Do you recall the wonderful woods scenes in Calvin & Hobb's? I'm reminded of the trails at the Leimbach's farm, with exotic destinations like the old Indian fort (with real arrowheads to occasionally be found) , a trail out to the "point" camp area, and also a steep trail down to the Vermilion river swimming hole.

The summer adventures with Dane and Jeff would often include running, running, running down the trails, with shorts and bare feet, of course!  And often, especially on twisty banked corners, we'd have our arms out in front of us gripping an imaginary set of handlebars, twisting a very real (to us) throttle and making the best sounds of motorcycling we could!

So this would be the first of our "riding" together...

Thanks for the memories...

Tom

P.S.
There is a favorite photo I wanted to include, but I can't locate it in my personal collection. It's of Dane, Jeff & Me at the Leimbach's farm. I have a raccoon on my shoulder. Does anyone have a digital copy for download?  I believe I've seen a framed print not too long ago somewhere, perhaps at the parent's house, so it isn't lost.

[Kip Kern]

Wow, this stuff is priceless, love to hear more stories like this! Thanks guys;)

[Rick Bennett]

I tried to leave my boots home one race day. Got half way there and turned around. By the time we got to the race (hare scramble 2 hour) we barely had time to sing up. My brother and I were taking a leak in the bushes when the green flag dropped. Only had the WHOLE pack to pass that day but it was one of the most fun races I remember. Ended up third that day in the 125 class.
Rick

[Tom Penton]

Rick, Re: Late to Start.

God, I still have nightmares like this!

Tom

[ALB]

Bob,

Thanks for bringing Dane's stories to the "front" of this message board.

I would have to get my copy of the first "Still keeping track" to check if this is the same story that Dane wrote for that newsletter. My memory tells me it is. In struggling to put the first newsletter together, Dane stepped forward and submitted the very first "Member Profile". John Borer is the one who put the first POG newsletter together.

Alan Buehner