Traveling a Bumpy Road in Search of Acceptance : Motor racing: Sidecar motocross racers say they are not crazy. Competitors predict that the sport will enjoy a revival in the United States.
It happens whenever members of the Southern California-based Leading Links Motorcycle Club roll up to the starting gate at the beginning of a race. Uninitiated fans shake their heads in disbelief, muttering something to the effect of “Those guys must be crazy, racing sidecars on a motocross track.”
The racers insist that’s a bum rap.
The Leading Links, a group of about 30 who take their name from the front suspension necessary on sidecar rigs, run a schedule of 12 to 15 races per year at tracks in California and Arizona. Sidehacks, as motocross sidecar rigs are called, have enjoyed success in Europe for more than 30 years and were popular in America between 1978 and 1985 before dwindling interest nearly killed off the sport.
But the Leading Links, more than half of whom have ties to the area, insist the public will respond once again to their off-beat sport.
During a recent California Racing Club event at Los Angeles County Raceway in Palmdale, it took less than half-a-lap of a five-lap race to win over the crowd. With drivers navigating the hills and bumps and passengers flopping themselves strategically in the sidecar to keep the rigs upright, the participants resemble a crew of an unstable ship battling tempestuous seas.
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Is this a crazy hobby? Insurance companies think so. Although race tracks routinely find willing insurance companies, the major provider of motocross insurance wants no part of the sidehacks.
Glen L’Heureux, 23, of Valencia and Scott Gregory, 33, of Canyon Country are two recent converts to the sport, catching sidehack fever after watching a race in ’92 in Adelanto, where Gregory was racing vintage motorcycles.
L’Heureux, a technical writer for a defense industry firm and an accomplished bicycle racer, had seen sidehacks at Indian Dunes as a child but had no idea that the sport was still alive.
When L’Heureux told Gregory he wanted to be a sidecar passenger, Gregory questioned his friend’s sanity. But within two weeks, Gregory was looking for parts to build a sidehack. A year later, the two became a racing team, albeit a rag-tag looking twosome.
Competitors took one look at Gregory and L’Heureux’s home-built creation and immediately dubbed it “Hackzilla.” But in their second start, they earned a second-place trophy--winners earn prize money only at selected events--and became hooked.
“This whole sidehack group is the most enjoyable crowd I’ve ever run into,” L’Heureux said.
Jeff Anders, a 35-year-old engineer from Saugus, and his 52-year-old passenger, Paul Stimson, an Oxnard firefighter, are the current points leaders.
Stimson, who has been riding motorcycles for 30 years and surfs nearly every day, considers himself an inspiration to the younger riders.
“Some of these guys look at what we do and think it’s going to be a piece of cake,” Stimson said. “Then they get out there, and after one or two laps it’s all that they can do to hang on, because the passenger’s position is so important to keeping the machine on course.
“Jeff shifts gears and turns the bike, while my job is to be where I’m supposed to be every second we’re out there.”
Like many passengers, Stimson said a successful team requires strength, intelligence and teamwork. Still, passengers have not shaken an unwanted nickname.
“People see us out there and they call us monkeys, yet they don’t know anything about us, or what we do,” said Barry Bryant, a 27-year-old electrician from Burbank who has been a passenger on long-time friend David Hersey’s rig for the past two seasons.
“What they don’t know is that we’re all regular guys who have to be at work on Monday mornings, just like they do, and we have every intention of going home to our families and going to work after the race, just like they do,” Bryant said.
The term “monkey” originated in the early days because the passenger’s platform resembled a playground-style monkey’s playhouse and because the sidecar rider’s gyrations resemble a monkey climbing a tree.
El Segundo’s Scott Whitney became a passenger at 13, enlisted into the sport by his father. Whitney, who has raced at various times with his father and each of his three brothers, including a six-week stint in Europe in 1985, chafes at the insanity image.
“(Our sport) may be a little riskier than driving a car without an air bag,” he said. “If you are a professional, on a closed course, with proper equipment, the risk is minimized.”
Whitney reports no broken bones in 20 years of racing, and Bryant asserts that he has seen more solo racers injured than sidecar racers in his two years of racing.
Whitney is not the only racer to get his start with a family member. Mike Burns, 30, of Eagle Rock was a passenger on his father’s bike as a 9-year-old. “That would probably be considered child endangerment these days,” he quipped.
Damon Doherty, 32, of Santa Clarita is another second-generation sidehack racer. His father competed in the early ‘60s, stopping the year his son was born.
Doherty, who works as a movie grip for Warner Brothers, rediscovered the sport almost four years ago through his childhood friend Hersey, but didn’t start competing until 1992. His father declined an invitation to form a team, but attends his son’s races faithfully.
Jack Barbacovi, an area motocross promoter for the past 22 years, cites the unusual nature of the sport and positive fan reaction as reasons why he tries to spur interest.
He has included sidehacks in his programs since the 1970s, but this year is the first time he has promoted them as a separate entity.
The group is currently scheduled to race in the Viewfinders Grand Prix near Castaic Lake in November and the Prospectors Grand Prix in California City in December.
The racers urge would-be spectators and participants not to beg off, thinking they have temporary insanity.
“My advice to those who want to get involved is to follow through with your initial thought,” L’Heureux said. “Don’t let it be a passing fancy.”
