Arllov Jr., Part 1

When I first arrived at the Willow Springs International Raceway in the Mojave Desert, it was scary enough.The desert inhabitants were an unfamiliar variety, I wondered how long cycle The magazine will take me to understand that I am not very qualified for my new job, and The fastest road in the west It was intimidating on just one side. Fearing to ride a real racetrack for the first time, when I stepped into a dark truck office from the hot sun, Lexan’s case was sitting with a really scary motorcycle, the menacing black Kawasaki of the mid-1980s. rice field. The ZX1000R, stripped for combat, took the 1986 Formula USA Championship (first championship) and was named “Terminator”.

Photo: Melissa Whitfield

I remembered what came out of a man’s chest alien, And I’m glad it was sealed in the case. Its owner and ’86 F-USA Champion, it said in plaque: Arllov. In fact, 1986 was only a few years away, but the glass case gave things an oversized historical weight, and I’m a kind of Viking with Arlolov wearing a horned helmet. I thought he was a warrior.

Then, a few weeks ago, Facebook’s West Coast Dirt Trackers page displayed the name Earl Rolloff. Earl apparently started cheering for some old photos and decided to play with his new FB account. It’s amazing that I don’t remember anymore, but I remembered the names Terminator and Earl Lorov almost instantly. Looking at the first photo, suddenly he seemed more friendly.

We were born

My first bike was a Triumph …

Arllov: Triumph’s dirt tracker at a 10-month bid age on his first bike in Baltimore in 1957. The reach to the bar was a bit long and the gearbox was terrible in typical Triumph lore. My dad didn’t want baseball, basketball, or soccer players. He wanted a motorcycle racer. And it started …

At that time, my father had a Triumph shop in Baltimore. Too many stormy winters, he persuaded him to move to California in 1963. In the late 70’s and mid 80’s we owned a Yamaha shop. Lorov’s Yamaha began in 1976 and in 1981 purchased a local Kawi shop and renamed it. Seaweed Kawasaki ”(I will explain more about Earl Senior later). (Note the seaweed Kawasaki sticker on the terminator’s nose.)


Earl also has good memories. The story that accompanies his old black-and-white photographs is as enjoyable as photography. More than that, they are the journal of Southern California, which may have been the best motorcycle place at a time when it might have been the best motorcycle era. Or it might seem to me that it was also my time. And probably especially so, it got stuck in Missouri because I experienced it. My dad banned motorcycles and wanted a baseball player, but Earls was the exact opposite. It’s a journey back to the 1960s. (I hate to say that, but almost everything was Then it’s better. )

ER: In contrast to the modern world of SUVs with toy carriers, $ 60,000 pickup trucks and luxury trailers, pilgrims of the race have found a unique and practical way to ride the race. A very popular option (at least for Lorov in the mid-1960s) was the incredible comet station wagon. It’s durable, but it’s a bit cramped and the job is done! It was a reliable transport, except for one incident where one of the bikes flew back to the road after hitting a big dip on Chula Vista’s main street!

ER: Why is this guy so happy? Read the top of the photo to find out the answer. My first trophy was 6th in the Brownfield (also known as South Bay Speedway) 100cc Beginner Main in 1967. At that time, they were awarding trophies for every six riders in the class. On race day, there were 39 entries after the heat and semi, which meant 6 trophies. 12 people reached the main and finished in 6th place! – My personal best. It was a great day and I was working hard to get the “first day”.

The club had stamped the trophy before handing it out at the next event. I had to wait nearly three weeks after learning that I had won my sixth trophy. This seemed like a lifetime by the time I received the prize (I don’t know yet). How fast will you get older). I couldn’t wait for them to call my name as they announced and handed out 100cc beginner class trophies. Finally, the man announced, “6th place 100cc beginner main event, Bruce Draper!” And the air came out of my balloon. I will never forget that moment. I liked Bruce and everyone, but he was in 7th place!

Fortunately, authorities noticed a scoring error and Bruce placed a man to admit that I was the true sixth-place finisher.I’ve always heard the phrase “fight to the end” but never fight For Your finish. After learning another life lesson, two weeks later I finally received the first trophy I fought in so many ways!

ER: After that first one, it got a little easier. This photo shows the Yamaha YL1 winner at the Tijuana Autodrom around 1967.I # 32, and as you can see, I had a serious weight advantage over my competitors that day.

At that time, crossing the border was very easy. In fact, it was very easy to go anywhere at the time. Here are some of the places we raced in the 60’s and 70’s: Southern California Speedway, Dehesa Raceway, Tijuana Autodrom, Peris, Elsinore, Corona, Ascot, Trojan Speedway, Baymere, Huntington Beach Cycle Park, El Centro, Adelanto All SoCal venues I raced. There are a few more things I didn’t do, such as the Orange County Eltro Raceway.

Large open space

ER: It’s hard to believe that San Diego was a large open space land. When my dad moved us here from Baltimore in the early 1960s (probably the best he did for us!), Most of San Diego was like the Midwest. It was a paradise for dirt bike riders, with trails everywhere and few homes except near downtown. Literally, I could ride miles from one city (Spring Valley, National City, Bonita, Miramar, South Bay, Poway, etc.) to another. Cross the road

In 1963, my dad bought a new home in Spring Valley, just above where Swap Meet is today. We were the only ones we had a motorcycle when we moved. However, Butch Reinhardt lived a few doors down and had a Thoth Goat. Within a few years, many of our neighbors became interested in motorcycles (thanks to Lorov) and started riding.

There were some trails in the field in front of our house, but it wasn’t a very good ride. I had to cross the hill to 8th Avenue. There were several trucks and trails leading up to National City. Alternatively, go to Bonita’s Proctor Valley or Rice Canyon, or load your bike to Palm Avenue towards the Brownfield. It was fun to cut the fence and run around the Sweetwater Lake once in a while, but the water patrols were driving us away.

Then one day, why don’t the neighbors of our city go down the hill in front of the house and put chips together to make a railroad track? It wasn’t fenced, no one even knew who owned the land, and we didn’t ask. So everyone chipped in and borrowed a bulldozer and a grader. They just entered the field and cut out the TT & short track. It was only one day.

After that, I went home from school, rode my bike and went to practice almost every day. It was great. Neighbors came down and got on and we raced between ourselves, Genuine Grassroots race. This is where Jimmy Brockman and I first met. I was practicing one day, and as I remember, the kid rode a little Suzuki and said, “Do you want to race?” I did say, we rode and fought for the rest of the day.

Our friendship and competition have grown over the next few years on race tracks. Before the sheriffs began to appear, we rode there for a few more years, driving us out of our property. Soon they fenced it, the bulldozer reappeared and flattened the land, and our way was gone. To date, I have nostalgic memories of hearing the word “athletics.”

ER: Oh, a young racer’s dream of kissing a trophy girl.The real pursuit wasn’t yet, except when you were 11 and the 11-year-old knew less about life than his parents. Trophy! This was a subsequent victory at Tijuana.

Finish part 1

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