The Beginning

My love of the outdoors started at an early age growing up in McLean, Virginia and on our family farm in Franklin County. In the early 1960’s and 70’s, McLean was a quiet community with lots of woods, trails, local farms and undeveloped tracts of land.  There were plenty of game trails to follow that usually led to creeks, streams and tributaries of the Potomac River. As a young child, I would often follow these trails from my back yard down to Dead Run to spend hours in and hiking along the stream. Sometimes, I would wander too far and my father would have to come find me and cary me back home…wet, stinky, and wanting to get back in the woods as soon as I could. 

The family farm was located in Boones Mill, Virginia. It was rumored to get it’s name from Daniel Boone’s brother, but, actually was named after a Jacob Boon, who ran a mill in the 1920’s. It later became famous as the moon shine capital of the world during prohibition and then from the book, The Wettest County In the World, by Matt Bondurant. Though at the time, I did not realize it had such as storied reputation, it offered me the same thing McLean offered, but on a much larger scale. Hundreds of game trails, several streams and springs, a rock quarry and a saw mill on 350 acres. Paradise for a young boy and his family. 

I was very content to explore this natural environment on foot. I loved the sweet smell of the forest, the cool streams and the adventures that came with discovery. Hours would go by and then I’d return home as it started to get dark and I got hungry. There was always a comfort returning home yet a longing to be back in the woods as soon as I could. That longing has never changed. More on that later. 

This contentment to explore the natural world on foot continued until three things entered my life. My Roll Fast bike. A Honda Trail 50. And, a Toyota FJ40! The start of a life long passion for motion, wheels, motors and woods. 

The Early Years:

As with most of us, bikes meant more than tires, speed and fun. They were the connective tissue of friendship and the freedom that came with mobility. They compressed time and place. Turning left from my driveway brought pavement and friends. Turning right brought a bridge, a gravel road and a steep hill that led to a few homes under construction, and the remaining farms in the neighborhood. Though the left turn brought friends the right turn led to dirt, gravel and hills. That Roll Fast loved the dirt and I loved turning right to adventure. It was a great gravel bike before “gravel” bikes became a thing. Soon I moved to a skinny tire ten speed with gold wrapped handlebars and the classic leather seat. The road to the right now was paved and led to the local swim club and 337 acres of undeveloped forest with a few old cabins known as The Burling Tract (Scott’s Run Nature Preserve…more on this later.) Though the newly acquired ten speed was built for the road, several of us after swim practice would head for the woods on these dropped handled machines. No helmets, no 29er’s, no suspension, we’d ride the game trails, foot paths and forest roads of this hardwood forest that led to the Potomac River. Flat tires, bent rims and a few head injuries did not suppress our love of riding off road. We found streams to cross, remnants of civil war farm houses, and great swimming spots. We found both adventure and solace and encountered beauty. 

Two Wheels and Gasoline:

I was ten. A neighbor named Tommy, rolled into my back yard with a red Honda Trail 90. He said, “get on”. I jumped onto the chrome luggage rack, and he headed for Dead Run, the creek about 30 yards from my house. I thought we’d ride along the stream but he headed down the middle. The Honda 90 had a step through frame with a high mounted air cleaner. We ran the stream, deep parts and shallow and came out along a cut bank leading up the hill to his house. This routine continued for the next two years. I was hooked. Turning eleven, I got my first motorcycle, a yellow and white Honda Trail 50. Upgraded to a 1972 gold Honda Trail 70 then to a Honda SL 100 that ate rings for breakfast and drank oil for lunch. The 1973 Hodaka 125 Wombat was the next acquisition. Tons of low end torque and after a few mods to the carb, exhaust and body, it was close  to keeping up the Kenny and Richard’s Honda Elsinores! During these teen riding years, my Dad picked up a blue 1971 Honda Trail 70 for $205. I still have that motorcycle in the garage and ride it as often as I can. The feelings of freedom, joy and peace I experienced riding bicycles was exponentially enhanced when I started riding motorcycles. I still have the same feelings today in my 60’s. 

And then a blue Toyota FJ40 pulled into the driveway…