Recollections from growing up...how things were diffrent then...

Much like yours, Manny.

I was raised in town, but grew up on a cattle ranch. Our house in town was surrounded by miles of woods on 3 sides, so we'd leave after breakfast, and be back by street lights.

Bikes, guns, rocks, fire, whatever feral kids could come up with. I don't think our area of travel was quite as big as the ranch, but it was just as wild, minus deer.

My kids weren't quite as lucky, yes, they got some ranch time, but no woods around the house, so I took them to the track with me for years. Same creek I played in, just further south, plenty of woods, and when they were old enough, a dirtbike playground that they could play on anytime. 

Kyle still thanks me for bringing him up there.

We were borderline feral growing up. 

(Late 60's through 70's)

Outside until dark thirty. 

One we had dirt bikes, we would ride out to the end of Strathmore dr in Santee California, and could ride until we barely made it home on premix.

Later on, Vesco skinny fat tanks, got us all the way to the outskirts of Poway. 

Now that entire area has been closed off.

Took the bus to high school, and hitchhiked home, before I got my first car.

Another riding area, the sandpits, was a local favorite. A bordering A&W rootbeer stand had nickel rootbeer, .25 cent papa burgers. 

Ride a bit, scarf a bit, go ride some more.

It's was common to see Marty Tripes, John DeSoto, Pierre Karsmakers, and so many others riding there.

That place is closed down too.

In younger days, ride the stingray down to a creek, catch crawdads, ride over to the santee lakes and fish with them.

Summertime neighborhood kids having massive hide and seek games in the evenings, running wild through neighbor's yards without getting shot.

Touch football in the streets, yelling out "CAR" from time to time.

Skateboarding on clay wheels, eating shit if you hit the tiniest pebble. 

Nobody was chauffeured to school.

We walked.

Good times. 

You want 60's & 70's stories ? Oh boy here we go... 😄, this should be good. 👍  Like you said Manny go play outside and be home before the church bells ring at 6pm.  And that was pretty the much the rule book, start to finish. Here's a snapshot of a jillion childhood memories.

Malaga cove road in Palos Verdes. (Or Paddleboard cove depending on how old you are). 

Schwinn Sting Rays stripped to the bare minimum with knobbies front and rear, a seat off of a 10 speed Varsity, and moto bars with nails and screws between the bars and the gooseneck to try to keep the bars from slipping, hose clamps, whatever we could think of. Moto bars didn't have the "Fat Spot" in the bars for the gooseneck to grab, so the bars were too small. We tried all kinds of different stuff to fill up the gap. The bars were eventually "Brazed", and then finally welded by the neighbor to keep them from slipping. None of that shit worked the bars always eventually slipped lol. Looking back my neighbor might have not been much of a welder 😄 This was before the trick bmx style clamps came out. And of course fat waffle grips.  4 or 5 of us racing down that dirt road / trail for hours on end. Then go "Pool Hopping" on the way home. That's when we'd climb apartment fences and swim in their pool until someone found us and kicked us out. Then off to the next pool we'd go...    

Our poor stingrays took horrible beatings.

Yeah, banana seat was the first to go.

And those high rise bars wouldn't last an hour under the abuse.

Walk to school?  Sounds like a city boy thing!  

😎

My elementary school was almost 15 miles away, junior high and high school were 30 miles. The only asphalt near us was the 2 lane highway that ran through the farm and a couple of paved loading pads out in the orchard to load bins on trucks at harvest.  

I was big into stomper pulls back in the day.... slap in a 9v, cut down some tires, and burn up some cheap plastic gears... lmao...

On a serious note.... 

Sales tax was 3 percent when I was young... now it's over 9 percent... and the roads are worse and schools are a complete chit show compared to back in the day... we just keep getting ripped off worse and worse and nobody GAF.... 

In 1980 we moved to a new house at Tatum and Bell rd area in Phoenix. Literally across Tatum was nothing but desert for many miles. I could ride out of my garage on my 1980 KD80 (yes KD). I was barely 13 and could ride all the way to north Scottsdale, about 20 miles each way. 

Shockingly the "waterhole" we used to ride at is still there, because it is State Trust land that parcel has not been sold off yet. But off road vehicles are prohibited (always were- but 45 years ago no one gave a shit because it was all vacant desert). But now almost everything around it is developed and is some of the most expensive real estate in Arizona. 

I also lived about 2 miles from the local Kawasaki dealership (Bell road Kawasaki) and would go there almost every day. I kind of became the kid "intern", I recall at like 14-15 years old working the parts counter by myself when the normal parts guy was off or on vacation. And every day they would bring the used motorcycles from the rear garage area, and push or ride them around the building to the front to display them for sale. 

They used to ask me to ride them around at closing to put them away for the night. Everything from dirt bikes to street bikes. One was a GPZ1100 crotch rocket. I asked if I could take it out on the main street (40th st) to test it out. Holy shit, I was like 14 and weighed about 100 pounds. I clicked into 3rd and twisted the throttle and at first the rear wheel broke loose but then hooked up and I was doing a power wheelie at about 70 miles an hour in about 2 seconds. About shit myself. 

Very fortunate to grow up in the 80's with dirt bikes. 

Elk grove village Illinois...endless vacant lots in the industrial park endless subdivisions not built on yet.

Massive Forest preserve Acreage that wouldn't be improved for a decade.

We tore it up on A 76 XR 75 then an 78 RM 100 

( un rebuildable silencer era ).lol

As Far as actual Racing I was good at holeshots and Hard pack corners 

( thats all I had to work with )

Guys from Florida blew past me in the whoops !

Big jumps ? I would have to go over them probally 75 times before I was comfortable as the leaders were

Wouldn't trade it for anything..

Steve Wise on the Whiskey Throttle show , Ping asked Steve " Do your kids race / ride ?

Steve said ya know...its not the same thing. I grew up.in the foothills of Texas ,My dad owned a Honda dealership. at anytime I could take any bike off the floor and just ride off into the hills or down the street.

They didnt grow up like that.

Its not the same thing to them.

Grew up in the late '70's early '80's and it was just BMX, skateboards, MTV and we had total run of the place. We lived in the first McMansion subdivision ever built in CT and the builder went bankrupt half way through it and left a paradise for kids to play in. Lots of similar stories similar to these. I just can't believe I survived. Got stoned for the first time in 7th grade. I think kids had total freedom back then and it was a lot safer.

I’m getting a little misty reading these posts. AeroBee Renegade forever!  Yes, I retained the banana seat and ape-hangers (which we rotated about 45 degrees aft). Jumping over our buddies, with poor Mike Dzwonkevitz (sp?) always on the far end, ready to accept whoever came up short. Why did we not understand the value of lipped jumps back then?  I blame Evel…

 Erector Set. Lionel Train. Candy cigarettes. We had a ringer washer and a clothsline and a party line. Milk showed up at dawn. On the front porch. I loved slot cars but never had one. I would just watch. I could afford a kite once in a while or one of those balsa wood wind up planes. They were each a dime. Duncan Imperial or a Revell model was a treat. Steelies and catseyes. Over the line. Whiffle ball. We were some busy little fuckers. As Joey says, Ferrel as fuck. Parents were glad to see our asses hit the door in the morning. Fat kids were very rare. 

Wasn't allowed to stay in the house but get your ass inside when the street lights go on or by dragged back home by the handle on the side of your head. We didn't have any money growing up so all my stuff came from Zodys.  Kind of what we think of cheap China stuff now. But I did have the first urethane skateboard wheels around. My dad made the molds for this company and wanted my dad to invest. He didn't think skateboards would ever be a thing. Grew up in Garden Grove. Strawberry fields all around, they'd rotate crops every year. Sometimes corn different stuff. But after the fields got picked it was open season for the locals. Moved to Vista in 77 population was around 20,000 at the time. Cruising Valle  Parkway in Escondido was the thing in high-school. I moved into my house in Escondido in 1982. Not even a 7-11 or McDonald's in town, 1 grocery store. Wow has it changed.

TM

I put a stomper in my sisters hair once, it ended bad for me. Life was much simpler back then, we had to make our own fun…..but it was much happier times. Mostly because we were oblivious to all the negative in the world. 

Not to mention things were just safer for us. I think I was maybe 13ish and my sister was in the airforce stationed at Mt Home ID. My parents let me take a bus to go visit her

Manny...we may have crossed paths back in the day.  My family also lived in Canoga Park for a few years before moving to Calabasas.    We were off Valley CIrcle...backed up to the undeveloped West Hills.  It's all developed now (has been for many decades).   

Our generation lived to be outdoors....either on bicycles, skateboards or horses/ponies.   We would ride around through the hills collecting bottles and stashing them so we could cash them at the 7/11 on Roscoe  (long gone now) for a soda and candy bar.    Imagine riding on a horse/pony to 7/11 today. 

I remember riding one of our ponies out to Chatsworth to visit a girl I liked over the summer break...that was something like 5th grade.  All by myself and unsupervised...took a map to navigate.   In reality it was probably 2-3 miles but to a little kid, that was a trek.

There was a street with a hill that seemed like Mt Everest to us  (Pomelo Dr)...we'd hoof it to the top and skateboard down.   Years later when I went back to check out the old hood,  that hill seemed tiny.  

Once we moved to Calabasas, it got even better.  Our playground were the Santa Monica MTNs...and that's when I got my first YZ-80.

Had a blessed childhood.    Time seemed to last forever (in a good way) back then.    Thanks for the causing me to pull up some fond memories.

Skateboards. Building ramps with plywood and cinder blocks for our bicycles and, jumping over friends. Playing hide n seek at night. Setting up neighborhood boxing matches with other kids from school. Nothing funner than a bunch of 8-10 year olds beating the crap out of each other then, shaking hands like nothing happened. 

My block was a cul de sac. There were about 8 households on that block and all the parents knew each other. Kids played together. Used to ride my mini trail 50 or, RM 125 up and down the street all day with my friend on his Yamaha MX 80. Nobody ever called the cops. There was no video games unless we went to the arcade. There was no internet. Entertainment was actually going to a movie. 
Seems people in my life during the 80’s and, 90’s were more genuine than now. Neighborhood block parties with everyone’s garage open on the 4th. Good luck doing that now. Carson sheriff sends drones over each year now. 

I will say, getting those childhood friends from the block up here to do some salmon fishing was awesome last year

I miss my childhood. 



 

Lived in pacific beach shortly after H.S.

Girlfriend moved to Huntington beach. 

Used to take surfboard under arm, and a piece of cardboard with, HB on one side and PB on the other, hoof it to freeway ramp, thumb out for weekend visits.

Shit unthinkable these days.

First dirt bike was a Taco mini in SoCal (6yo), chugging up the road to the top of the hill to play in the dirt...
...catching toads, building dirt forts, and falling down the hill into cactus...

Second dirt bike was a Honda SL70 in the MidWest (9yo), all I had to do is go right across the street...
...same as SoCal with less cactus and more intricate dirt forts with BB gun fights...
...add-in cruising through the concrete storm drainage tunnels under the freeway, down to the river to run the trails...
...running to help my friends who got too close to the river's edge that were stuck in quicksand...
...during this time, my Father bought 3 Triumph street bikes, two Bonneville 650s and one Daytona 500...
...the 500 was mine (or so I was told) was never big enough to ride it and besides had no license (too young)...
...Dad sold all of them before we moved to Germany...
...now-a-days, I wish he would have kept those oil leaking Triumphs...

Third dirt bike and beyond...
...starting racing MX with the German locals (and a few American service men)...
...on a Maico MC125 (rotary valve induction) and Maico 450...
...the 450 was a bit too much, but I tried, Dad said he was going to race the 450, he never did...
...he told me later it was for me to race, but again I was a bit too small, but it was fun trying...
...later after we got back to "The World" (as we called the States back then while overseas)...
...my older Brother broke his foot trying to start the 450 while wearing sneakers...
...I warned him to put a boot on and use the compression release...
...left side kickstarter, he was on the left side using his right foot slapping at the kickstarter...

...all good times, even that broken foot...
...go to drive him home after loading up the Maicos, first time driving and it was towing a trailer of bikes.

The good old days, my story is similar to many here.  Grew up on the farm and was on a motorcycle all day, work and play.

Growing up in the 70's, small town east Texas, feral is the correct word.  We had a neighborhood store, the white store because it was white, that was our meet up place.  We would get there any way we could, bicycles, skateboards, minibikes, go carts, walk, free ride from a neighbor.  We would collect soda bottles, mow yards, wash cars, relocate/kill venomous snakes, whatever an adult would pay us for to get some change so we could get a Coke, Snickers, gas, and play one of the two arcade games there...Joust and Space Invaders.  

Fishing, hunting, trapping, playing in creeks, building ramps for bikes and skateboards, hauling hay and watermelons in the summer heat, picking wild blackberries and peaches, catching horned toads, getting in fights and becoming better friends, playing "street league" sports, swimming in stock tanks, sitting in the back row of the movie theater with your girl, sneaking a Schlitz out of dads styrofoam ice chest, dipping Copenhagen, trying to fix broken stuff...man, we had some fun, learned a lot, and accumulated some scars.  I feel sorry for the kids now a days, things are just different and the freedom has been lost.    

All of the above and.......

We were fearless - 

I remember when 7-11's were called, speedee marts.

https://youtu.be/oh8zcbC_Dcw?is=5U8nSXelCWU6I5zS
 

that reminded me of this great 80’s song, the lyric “the pool hall I loved as a kid is now a 7-11”. In context to discussion, this song sums up my thoughts on childhood in that time frame almost perfectly as well.  And the music, the music was so good back then….
 

I’ll try to post a story or two later, but for now here is 7 year old me on my converted Stingray.

We had Majik Markets back in the day.

We grew up in Dunwoody GA. It’s just barely North of Atlanta. In the 70’s and up into the 80’s we still had some dirt roads and people had cows and horses around here. There was an old well directly across the street from our driveway. The house was long gone, but the well was still there. We were taught to never go play near a well. The janitors at our elementary school were all from the same family. They lived on a dirt road about 1/2 mile from us. They were dirt poor. They had pony’s. We’d go knock on their door early on a Saturday or Sunday morning and one of the older kids would come out and put bridles (that were mended together with twine) on the ponys  and off we’d go. Bareback. We were about 6 or 7 years old and we’d ride these pony’s all day, all over the place, with no supervision. Our parents had no idea where we were. We’d ride them to the grocery store and let them loose in the parking lot while we went inside and got a coke and then come back our and have to chase them around until we could catch them to get back on. I still live in this community and where the grocery store was there are some bars and restaurants.  No one believes me when I tell them my stories about riding ponies to this same shopping center (Dunwoody Village) when I was a kid. 

That reminded me of a couple of years where my day's business was, the neighbor had a Shetland pony for his kids. We were of the same age and I got to ride the pony most days if I walked to the business park about 2 miles from home. I was still in grade school at the time.

TM

About those years, I moved into the house I'm in now in 82. We didn't even have locks on the doors for a few years. Couldn't lock up the house if we wanted to. Never an issue. A few years later we installed locks, only after we had the locks did we get broken into. Arghh!

In 79 I drove up to Westminster to visit a friend. 16 at the time. It was a Friday night and we decided to go to Huntington pier. Parked in the liquor store parking lot cross the street, within 5 min my 69 El Camino got towed. Of course we then had to walk back up to his house which took us till the early hours of the morning. And people wonder why we say dumb fu@king kids.

TM

Sometime in the early 80s while in kindergarten, I invited my dad's best friend to my birthday party ( a kids birthday party) he bought me that stomper weight sled ,