As I've mentioned before in these hallowed pages I get a kick out of reading (and re-reading) motorcycle magazines from my early days of riding. It's great finding copies of magazines, the originals of which are now long gone because they were so thumb worn, dog eared and falling apart that they disintegrated with time. Thanks to the wonders (?) of eBay.
Anyhoo here I am reading a copy of Cycle, dated May 1972. The then editor, Cook Neilson, in his editorial, writes 'Random Thoughts About Noise'. These were the early days of the intervention of the EPA and various State Gestapo departments, and Neilson writes about Bultaco being told that they cannot sell any of their '72 lineup in California because they are too noisy.
What caught my eye at the end of the piece is a comment about the loudness, even then, of some street motorcycles. He goes on to note that in each rider there is a degree of 'rebel', regardless of the type of machine being ridden, but ends (quote):
Is that what being a rebel is all about --- pissing off the neighbours, knowing that when we buzz on by his dog barks and his baby wakes up and he can't hear his TV for a little while? Knowing that he resents the intrusion our motorcycle makes on whatever he's doing or whatever he's thinking? But at the same time knowing that he was aware that we were there? That we had gotten a rise, however small, out of a guy who'd never look twice if we dipped past on roller skates or in a Corvair station wagon? If that's wherr it is -- if that's what being a closet-rebel and motorcyclist is all about -- then we're doomed, and the industry is doomed, and the sport of motorcycling is doomed, and heaven help us.
Hmmmm! Seems like nothing changes.
