Yamaha WR 400
John LaCook had a WR400. He had it set up for Hare Scrambles, and it was nice. I told him if he ever decided to get rid of it let me know. It was a monster compared to any dirt bike I'd ever had. Karen, Robin, and Will were getting good at riding, and figuring things out. It made sense to me, that I get one so I could ride with them. We were going to Mr. Barbeau's field, or my parents house two or three times a month and having a great time.
Dan and Jennifer's driveway went over a cattle grate, and all the way through the pasture. The cows didn't seem to mind us being out there. We avoided them. The piles of cow poo provided some drama. You could ride over one with the back tire, spin the wheel, and launch it skyward. Anytime someone got in front of you, there was a chance that might happen. The squeals, and screams as the poo went skyward and the trailing riders tried to avoid it were worth any effort to wash the tires off later.
If it was a week day, I'd ride the WR from our house to Dan's field and mess around for an hour or so and ride back. I could take a short cut under the TVA lines, by our neighborhood, and pop out at the big field on 130, then cross the highway to get to Blue Creek Road.
Sometimes on holidays, I'd get it out for a special ride...
On a Sunday afternoon, Logan, one of the kid's friends talked me into letting him ride the WR at Mr. Barbeau's. We talked for a minute, and I realized the other kids were out on his four wheeler. I told him if he could start it he could ride it. It was a big four stroke, with a compression switch. To my surprise, he got it started and eased off on it. Long story short...He crashed, broke the handle bars in half, and knocked himself out cold. There were three dirt bikes, and two four wheelers that day, so we didn't miss him for a couple of minutes. With the handle bars broken, we couldn't see him or the motorcycle in the knee high grasses in the field. When we finally did find him, it was pretty scary. He said the last thing he remembered was topping the hill, and a wheelie got away from him and he was running behind it trying to hold on. We got him up and decided that he needed to go get checked out. After an an ER visit, he was sore but ok, with no broken bones. The WR 400 got a new handlebar thanks to Greg Snell who had a spare one. The brake and clutch levers survived, and everything went back together smoothly. A week later I sold it to a German guy that worked at the Silver Bait worm farm at Coalmont. His work visa was about to expire, and he was buying things to take back home. This was one of the toys he bought and shipped to his home in Germany. When they came to look at it it was four young guys in their early twenties, all chain smoking, all speaking German. One of them spoke broken English, and he did their negotiating. He wanted to ride it and I said not unless you buy it first. Then he said ok, you ride it, and I did. I went around the block one more time, and tried to pop a little wheelie in front of the house. He bought it.
I sold the KDX 200 at the same time, to a guy from Shelbyville. Karen and Robin are still a little ticked at me for that. I figured we had used up all of our good luck, and didn't want any more trips to the ER. In hindsight, I should have kept them. Oh Well. We were all growing up together and just figuring things out.