The Ballad of Busted Spark Plugs
The Ballad of Busted
Spark Plugs
It was sometime in between my last high-speed front-flip and seeing the carcass of a
motorcycle in my garage, that I began to wonder if riding a four-hundred pound Triumph across
the desert might not be the best idea. After all, my latest racing “stunt” had cost me a perfectly
good helmet and a concussion that wiped the month of April off the calendar. At that point,
some would have said, “enough was enough” with the old bike, and most did. But I still could
not shake the idea that there was more to be attempted on my 1972 Triumph Tr6c. These were
the glorified machines Bud Ekins and McQueen raced. In their day, whether it was dirt track or
desert scrambles, they were the bikes to beat. Surely, the old girl deserved another try, right? I
mean it wasn’t the bike’s decision to hit a bush at 50mph, was it? So, as someone who likes
learning a lesson the hard way, I bent my bike back into submission, dumped a few more quarts
of oil in it, and wondered when I’d ride the 650cc beast again---Then Forrest Minchinton
called...
It did not take long to talk me into it. In fact, all he really needed to say was
“Mexico,” and I was hooked.
This is the story of a magical place, beyond the dangers and señoritas of Tijuana, hanging off the edge of Mexico is a beautiful place called Baja; The home of race fueled enlightenment. The Ballad of Busted Spark Plugs, a tale as old as time and never told. Brought to you by us, the mother f*ckers of Deus Ex Machina.
This is the story of a magical place, beyond the dangers and señoritas of Tijuana, hanging off the edge of Mexico is a beautiful place called Baja; The home of race fueled enlightenment. The Ballad of Busted Spark Plugs, a tale as old as time and never told. Brought to you by us, the mother f*ckers of Deus Ex Machina.
