I remember gold tanked DT1's, the first QA-50 "Mini Trail" (who woulda thought it would lead to the 50 craze of today?), stripping the lights, horn and blinkers off my CT-1 175 and adding Preston Petty "Mudders" to make it a "dirt bike", adding your own 21 inch front rim cuz the dirt bikes of the day came with 18's at both ends, foam strips for Akront rims, fork braces, rubber mud flaps, saving for a summer to buy a torch so I could lay down my shocks, ballooning the bodies of my Koni's after I laid them down, Curnutt shocks and Terry fork kits, Honda Step Thru 90's, riding at Phelan at what is now Competitive Edge, my first new bike (Suzuki RM125A, saved for a year and paid 700 bucks for it), Chaffey High School's Varsity Motocross Team, the first Super Bowl of Motocross at the Coliseum, real leather pants (still have a pair, wish they still fit), Full Bore boots, JOFA chest protectors and shoulder pads, Whoop-de-Chews, the first Moto-Star...the list goes on and on. But the thing I remember most is my dad: Working on the bikes in the garage at night no matter what was wrong with them, how tired he was, how much we didn't know, or what tools we didn't have; Going to the desert every other weekend no matter what else was going on in his life; Going to the bike shops and shows; and just talking about the sport that consumed our lives in the 60's and 70's. Dad doesn't ride any more, but I'm sure glad my son and I do! All you dads out there reading this, take great pleasure in making those memories with your kids.