Growing up a farm boy, I was intrigued by anything with an engine. Tractors, combines, swathers, skid loaders, etc. Grease and gasoline smelled wonderful to me. And diesel fuel smoke was the best. So, anything that was not foot powered had my attention. My dad had a Harley-Davidson Type 74 before he had a family, so maybe the idea of a two-wheeler was in my blood.
In the 1960’s many companies made mini-bikes. Basically, made of a leftover lawnmower engine and wheels. But they were fun to zoom around on. I already had horse, but a mini-bike didn’t require any feed when not in use. One day I looked at the hardware flyer from Beaver’s Hardware in Kasson, and there was a new in box minibike for sale that week. My father took me in and we ordered it. I was so excited and couldn’t wait for it to come. I had heard that some people go to the factory to see their vehicle assembled and I got to do the next best thing. I convinced him to let me ride along in the truck to bring it back.
My dad would drive a large cattle truck to the twin cities to haul freight back to the local retailers when he wasn’t busy farming. I loved to ride along with him whenever I could. He would load livestock at local farms and deliver the cattle or hogs to the South Saint Paul Stockyards. Next the truck box was blasted clean with a high-volume water hose at a truck wash. Then he would drive all over the twin cities loading on freight for Kasson and Rochester retailers. It was so much fun to ride from warehouse to warehouse getting the truck filled with huge boxes. Every week there was a shipment hauled back to the hardware stores in Kasson. There was the Gambles Store, Erickson’s Our Own Hardware and Beavers Hardware.
The shipment was rather anti-climactic. Except for a small picture on the side, one wouldn’t know what was inside the large brown cardboard box. It was partially disassembled and completely in a box. And we still had to bring it home from the store and unpack it. Once the handle bars were installed, oil added to the crankcase and fuel tank filled, it was ready. A couple pulls on the recoil start and it roared to life.
I drove that mini bike all over the farm. In the woods, through the creek and out to the field. It crossed the river and went up every hill just to prove it could be done. My dad was quite the stickler for obeying the law and explained that I must get off and push the mini-bike across the highway. It wasn’t street legal and I was expected to abide by man-made rules. At least when he was watching, anyway. But that smooth asphalt road was so much better to ride on. If I looked both ways and there was nothing approaching, I would head right down Highway 57 to the field drive, instead to riding down the road ditch.
Soon I learned a few things about that little gas engine. I still have a scar on my wrist from where I touched the exhaust pipe as I checked the oil on a hot engine. I also discovered that touching the spark plug while the engine was running was a shocking experience. I could override the governor and that little 3 ½ horse power engine would double the top end speed. I would just put my foot up and push governor over and that thing would fly. I never thought about the little Tecumseh engine flying apart from the high rpm’s. Coming back down the field drive I felt like I was flyin’.
One day I was heading back from the hog barn and I realized too late that the electric fence gate was closed at the driveway. I locked up the brake and laid the mini-bike down, sliding right under the wire. To my amazement I came back up on two wheels and continued on. That little blue mini-bike gave me hours of fun as a kid.
