I've also been lucky to have ridden or raced throughout most of the United States and much of the world. Vivid images of trail riding in Peru and racing next to a volcano in Guatemala are memories locked between my temples. I'll never forget the time I raced in the German Nationals in Gaildorf on the same track with the world's best riders, or that glorious day in Austria when I got my fists on the new works KTMs and rode around the most beautiful track I'd ever seen. Ah, yes, the memories flood in . . . How many Blackwater 100 races has it been? Six? Seven? And what about the Mountain Home 100 in Idaho on a 501 Maico? That was fun'.

Fortune smiled on me in many ways. i've ridden literally dozens of works bikes, including the outrageous Kawasaki of Brad Lackey, the feather-light Hondas of the mid- '70s, the factory Maicos, a twincarbed Puch, Rex Staten's works Harley, a genuine Harley flat-tracker, a half-dozen speedway bikes, a few hiliclimbers, three or four sidehacks, some ferocious TT-bikes, plenty of drag bikes and even a few exotic road racers.

So with all this and more safely stored in my memory banks, are there things that I would have changed, or done differently, or regret not having done?

Of course.

And, in no particular order, here are some of the things 1 sort of sincerely regret not having done/or having done in the last 25 years on two wheels:

• I'm really sad that I never got to go trail riding with Kate Smith. There was something about the way she sang God Bless America that makes me believe she would have loved it. How many people have ever hit the trails with a 350-pound, one-legged soprano? It could have been a first'.

• I regret that my first real dirt bike was a 250 Bultaco. It was about as reliable as a candle in a wind tunnel and caused me more grief than an evil woman. It blew up with monotonous regularity and cost a fortune to fix . . - when it could be fixed. Half of the time, the part6 were "on the boat from Spain." Do you know what it's like to sit and stare at a dead bike because there are no parts available and you want to ride so bad that your teeth hurt?

• I'm sorry that I sold my first bike, a 1956 Triumph TR-6, and bought a lame MG sports car with the money. The Triumph was the finest thing to ever come out of England, while the MG was about as much fun to own as a large wart on your nose. Somewhere in England, there must be a plaque hanging on a wall, that says: "England . . Where Quality is Just A Slogan!"

• I sincerely regret having bought any one of a number of Italian motorcycles in the late '60s. Names like Parilla, Gilera, Ducati and Beta come readily to mind. They were invariably oddball designs, some of them brilliant in concept, but living with an Italian bike was a test of repressing anger. I once waited on the phone for 86 minutes (long-distance) trying to order parts for a Gilera engine. And then got hung up on. Ordering parts for any Italian bike is like trying to hold a philosophical discussion on Aristotle with a loaf of bread.

• I truly regret trying to build 'the ultimate four-stroke" back in 1983 out of a Honda XR-500. It blew up almost every time it was ridden, cost more than the entire state of Montana to build and still weighed 25 pounds more than a good SOOce two-stroke.

• I really regret not having ridden the International Six Days Event. We had a chance to represent Puerto Rico or the Vatican in 1974, but never followed through properly on the deal. At that time, the Dirt Bike staff knew it was not good enough to qualify to ride the Six Days, but if we picked an obscure country and got to ride for their team, well ou get the idea.

• I utterly regret trying that weird jump in 1979 at the Super Bowl track at the Coliseum when I missed and broke my back. It took almost a full year out of my riding hfe. When I finally was able to get back on a bike and ride again, it was an almost unbelievable feeling! Pure joy!

• I sincerely regret trying to out-drink the Maico factory team mechanics one night at the old Cooper Motors facility in Burbank. It was a hopeless endeavor and I had a headache for three days after-ward. I can dimly recall singing off.key to some gypsy music at three in the morning, then waking up all cramped and cotton-mouthed in the back of the parts department the next day.

• I probably should regret the fact that I never really got deadly serious about racing, but I can't bring myself to do that. You see, I've had so much fun, that I think getting in rock-hard shape and eating nothing but wheat germ would take most of the fun out of it all. I'll leave the serious racing stuff to the Ricky Johnsons and the Jeff Wards. l live in the real world of having fun with my friends who just happen to be fellow dirt bike freaks.

• I regret not having gone riding more times than I did when it rained. Some of the finest times of my life have been when me and a few friends headed out to the desert under black clouds and fat rain drops. Invariably, it stayed cool, moist and gray and the riding conditions were legendary.

• I remember one time I stayed home to watch the Super Bowl when all my buddies went trail riding. The game was a bust, with the score something like 200 to 3 and everybody called me up and said that the riding was perfect; a light rain fell just before they unloaded, then stopped. No dust. Traction. A good time was had by all, except me, who watched the Steelers whup up on somebody else when I should have been out roosting with my friends.

• I regret not learning how to ride better in the woods. Show me a tree and I'll run into it and turn a finger purple.

• I wish I was born ten years earlier and had the chance to ride some of the classic events like Catalina.

• I wish I was born ten years later and had the chance to ride nothing but the new trick equipment.

• It would have been nice to have taken some photos of Steve McQueen when he used to test regularly with the Dirt Bike crew. We never knew he would leave us prematurely.

• We were supposed to do a story on Roy Rogers and his Suzuki 185 Duster way back in 1974, but it rained and we went trail riding instead and forgot about it. We wanted to ask him some questions about Trigger being stuffed, but never got the chance.

Department of no regrets:

Dirt Bike was constantly called by TV agents, asking us to do stories on soap box stars who rode dirt bikes. Proudly, we must say that we told them all thanks, but no thanks. Just because you ride a bike doesn't mean people want to read about you, especially if you're some pinhead soap actor.

Substantial regrets:

not staying on top of the Phantom Duck of the Desert legal battle when we had the BLM and the Sierra Club on the ropes. We settled for a slight win, when we should have stayed in court and gone for the jugular vein.

Last regrets:

I'm Out of space and can't babble about the past anymore.