When I was a kid, I had three dreams that were related to BMX. One was to ride for the legendary Rick’s Bike Shop team. Watching Dave, JP, Thom, Mel, Dougie and the other team members absolutely dominate the early days of BMX was something amazing to watch. My second BMX dream was to monkey for Dennis “The Red Baron” Dain. I raced against him and Steve a few times. In my mind, my few measly first place trophies that I acquired in many many years of racing were almost exclusively in hacks. I rationalized that since I was on the winning team at Rancho and Corona a few times, I was a good enough to monkey to race with Dennis. The third dream was to get my picture taken by the mighty “Oz” Bob Osborn. It might have happened in his endless rolls of films. Although I got close at the obscure Tecate race when I went ballistic, it never made it to print. The dreams were never fulfilled and eventually I, as everyone else, grew up
As a forty something year old decrepit, those dreams were long gone but never really forgotten. My occupation has me sometimes going home with a low outlook on humanity and sometimes depressing. I fight this with memories of waiting for Tom Derosier to open up his shop so I can snag the latest BMX News or BMX Action. Reliving a conversation with Rick and Patti Twomey that I had in the valley over 30 years ago, or just closing my eyes and imagining the rush, the thrill the outright fear of screaming down Rancho’s first corner at warp 3
Out of nowhere, with the help of Ben Joy and Scot Breithaupt I end up as an invitee to the Joe Kid premiere in Hollywood. I immediately approach Rick and Patti Twomey and tell them of my short conversation with Rick. Patti does me the honor of telling me that she remembers me and somehow they become friends and I eventually become a member and even part of the RBS Family.
A little later, I hook up with Dennis Dain, to me, one of the best hack pilots ever. We talk at the Arizona BBQ and later we plan to race hacks at the Nationals in Sacramento. Needing some practice, we do not head towards a track, or to push the hack around some deserted parking lot. We end up at some downhill trail that deep down in my mind is reminiscent of my “home” track at Rancho San Diego. Without any real “sidehack” words, we push off expecting a slow exploratory ride down the hill. Instead, Dennis goes full tilt into the first corner at close to 30 MPH. I knew Dennis could handle the corner, and I knew I could handle the corner, but the great unknown was my ability. Dennis trusted me, we hit the corner with a 15 foot roost coming out the side wheel and I was again 15 years old.
At this point, I was satisfied. I’m more than thankful to Rick and Dennis. Not many other moto-fillers could have had their BMX dreams fulfilled. Well, almost satisfied. Bob’s story at the Arizona BBQ when he mentioned me was a great thing but when he told me how close he was to printing my adventure, I thought of “what could have been.”
Last Saturday, the last of my dreams was fulfilled at the Bellflower get-together. After visiting with Bob, we talked about the good old days. I did my obligatory social butterfly routine talking to all the great people I have met over the years after rediscovering the sport a few years. Then, it was time. I put on an extra small old school helmet (my head still hurts) and pedaled Dave Clinton’s Kawasaki (that coincidentally Bob and I own) towards the starting hill.
I lined up next to Greg Hill, Billy Griggs and a few other heroes of the past and friends of the present. Bob set himself up at the first jump and when the gate dropped, I took off at “blinding” speed (at least in my mind.) Bob goes “No, no, you have to tell me when you are taking off, let’s do it again.” I could not help but smile when he said that. I took off again and gain, my old legs were hurting with the pain of old age and my lungs were burning. Amazingly enough, those pains went away after a few takes. I worked my way back to the starting hill, looked at Billy Griggs and the other guys that were there and said “We’re all fifteen again, trying to get our picture taken by Oz” Everyone turned towards me, nodded in agreement and eyes sparkled as they smiled through their full face helmet.
I really don’t know how many pictures Bob took of me. He had the stars of the show, the jumpers, the hotshots, the guys that are still riding there also competing for a picture. It didn’t matter really. I knew that as along as I knew that he took one, my last and final dream was fulfilled
Thanks Bob Osborn
