Championship

If you were looking for two words that totally describe the Southern California region, those two words would be: Beach Boulevard. Imagine a sunny day as you ride your motorcycle along the beach, checking out the beach goers lugging umbrellas, volleyballs, and suntan lotion across Pacific Coast Highway, in sandals and beach towels as they are headed for the beach. Most are young boys and girls, minus the umbrellas, with surfboards and wet suits going for a few hours of good old Southern California surfing. It kind of makes you think of the Beach Boys’ tune Surfing USA.

Connecting the folks who are not fortunate enough to live in one of the beach communities like Huntington Beach, self proclaimed Surf City, is Beach Boulevard. A little over twenty miles from one end to the other, Beach Boulevard is the main thoroughfare for beach goers for miles around. At the north end of Beach is the little town of La Habra, California. Officially nestled in Orange County, La Habra is a foothill village that shares two area codes because it is right on the border of everything, and it is a part of nothing.

I used to work for a little sandwich maker in La Habra and drive a delivery truck throughout the San Gabriel Valley. Monday through Saturday, I hauled sandwiches for Ropa, a mom and pop outfit that was on the verge of going out of business, mostly because the new owners had taken too much from the little company and it was not staying afloat any longer. They did make good sandwiches though.

If you drive to the north end of Beach Blvd, it dead ends into Whittier blvd. When you arrive at the intersection you would notice that the highways change numbers and directions. It can be a little confusing for someone who is not familiar with the region but if you just hang in there and jog a little east, to the right of Beach Blvd, you can find a connecting road that will take you to Hacienda Heights and the San Gabriel Valley. The road is appropriately named Hacienda Road and as I just checked it out on Google Streets, it still appears as it did in 1977.

Why 1977? Because that was when I took the 6 mile trip across the mountains, actually they are just hills, on my homemade café racer. I have been telling you a little about my Kawasaki 750 triple and how I had rebuilt it mostly from the ground up to be the bike I always wanted, well Kawasaki had released their Z1, a four cylinder super bike that was supposed kick ass on my mere 750 two stroke scooter (in perspective). I felt a little intimidated by the Z1 from the articles I had read about the newer model but I felt my bike had a little advantage after all the mods I had done on it.

So there I was, crossing into Hacienda Heights and I looked in my mirror and recognized a Z1 passing everything to eventually pass me, I felt. Something clicked in my little brain. I thought to myself, there is NO WAY this guy is going to pass me.

I pulled in the clutch and kicked it down two gears, clunk clunk.

I cranked it on and up-shifted, clunk.

I kept on the throttle and as I accelerated I was watching in my mirror, good, he couldn’t keep up, he would have to really try just to catch me. Remember now this is a much more powerful bike coming up behind me and I wasn’t going to let him pass.

I was passing everything in sight, on this little two lane road.

As I crested the pass I checked again and the guy was trying but he wasn’t gaining any more, good I thought.

Down the other side I checked the speed. The highest reading on my speedometer is 120. I had pegged it. The tachometer’s maximum is 12,000 RPM. It too was pegged.

Let me tell you a little about 2-stroke motors. There is no red line. Trust me, there is no red line on a two stroke engine, it will turn as fast as you push it to.

So there I was going down the hill into Hacienda Heights over 120 MPH and the road was opening up before me. I thought I must slow down soon because there are people all around. But I was hell bent on losing this guy. It was about then that I realized something was wrong. I was only in Fourth gear?!?

Blam, I kicked it up into 5th and I disappeared from the Z1 completely. What a rush.

I got onto the 60 freeway westbound and I got the Hell out of there, I was really afraid of cops now, I still don’t know how I did it without getting caught. I don’t think I slowed down until I got to El Monte.

But that guy on that Z1?

Who cares!