MRW Issue 1

A JOURNEY THROUGH
MOTORCYCLING –
MY LIFE WITH BIKES
THE MIGHTY PW50.
Here at MRW we want to help give want-to-be writers,
bloggers and pundits their chance to tell their stories,
to showcase what they have to offer.
If you go to the website (www.motoriderworld.com)
you will find a FanZone section, where stories and features
from fans across the globe have been posted up
- a platform to help expose everyone’s experiences.
On top of that, we will also be selecting one FanZone
feature every month and publish it right here in
the digital mag. This months one, and the first ever,
comes from Peter McBribe, a long time motorcycle
nutter here in SA who tells us about one of his journeys
through motorcycling.
I was three years old when
the Christmas of 1986 in rolled
around. I can’t really remember
anything about it. But in
a photo album tucked away
somewhere in my parents’
house. You will find some
pictures of my brother and
myself. Wearing track suits
and gumboots. With BMX
helmets and those old Velcro
strap skateboard elbow
and knee pads. Taking turns
sitting on a Brand new 1986
Yamaha PW 50.
First released by Yamaha
around 1980, the “ Peewee
“has been a constant feature
of the Yamaha sales line
up ever since. And until KTM
started building minibikes. Almost
everyone who started
riding dirt bikes as a little kid
started on a PW. That little
bike became a fixture of my
life. I had just learnt how to
ride a bicycle without “training
wheels . So, without much
coaxing, I learnt how to ride
the Peewee. It didn’t happen
overnight though. One of my
first memories of riding that little
bike was sitting, half on the
tank, half on my old man’s lap.
As I held onto the handlebars
and he rode the bike. Showing
me how everything worked.
We lived in a little town
called Jwaneng in the south
east of Botswana. Home to
the Jwaneng diamond mine.
The Crown jewel of the De
beers diamond empire. Close
to the airstrip that the mine
had built. There was a clear
area of solid hardpack gravel.
A rarity in that part of the
world. Where thick desert
sand is the order of the day.
Dad took us out there a few
times . We would get “kitted
up” and one day after several
thousand laps of the gravel
pit with Dad at the controls, I
asked if I could try “by myself “.
Once I had worked out the basic
controls, the most important
thing in my life became ,
seeing how far I could “ skid
“ grabbing a handful of gas ,
then a much more enthusiastic
handful of rear brake. My
old man would dutifully measure
out the “ skid” and keep
score. NOTHING on earth was
more important than beating
the previous record.
If you have ever taught
a kid how to ride on a PW.
There is a fairly consistent
routine to how it works. The
kid is normally a little scared.
So a short burst of acceleration,
with that very distinctive
PW sound. Is followed by
a much longer period of the
bike idling as it goes forward
and gently slows down. Then,
that’s all you hear until the
bike runs out of fuel. Because
once the kid gets the idea
and gets a little confidence.
Generally speaking, all the
wild horses in kaapsehoop
couldn’t drag the kid of the
bike. A story I have still not
lived down, 35 years later, is
that on more than one occasion.
I fell asleep while riding
my trusty peewee.
One day when the powers
that be decide that it’s time
to press the big red buttons
and wipe out humanity with
a good old fashioned atomic
holocaust. All that will remain
on earth will be cockroaches,
scorpions, a few Honda cub
90’s and the vast majority of
the PW 50’s that have been
manufactured. The designers
intended the bike to be
given as a Christmas present
to kids. So the design made it
look like a toy, and they made
it small enough that parents
could convince kids that it
came down the chimney with
your friend and mine, Uncle
Santa. A shaft drive was chosen
to minimise maintenance,
an auto lube system took the
guess work out of mixing fuel
for Dads who may be new to
the wonderful world of two
stroke motorcycles. (My old
man would rather die than
rely on an auto lube, so 32:1
premix it was). In hindsight,
this was a genius strategy
by the people from Yamaha.
Making the first experience
with off road motorcycling
easy and relatively low risk.
Allowing time for the learning
curve to kick in. Something
that is lacking with the newer
and very highly strung 50’s
that are on the market now.
PW’s are still available brand
new from your nearest Yamaha
dealer basically unchanged,
apart from colour, since the
early 80’s. Our little ’86 bike
was bought from Primrose
motorcycles in Germiston for
R1200.00. A controversial
price increase from R576 in
October of that year. The massive
popularity of the bike and
the difficulty in getting bikes
in during the height of worldwide
sanctions at the time ,
drove the inevitable increase.
That little bike taught about
20 or 30 kids how to ride. The
frame got welded probably a
dozen times. It got raced for a
least ten years by various kids
and it just did not ever miss a
beat. I hope whoever owns
that bike now takes good care
of it. I nearly got it back in 1998,
but unfortunately it had just
been sold on. Will I buy a PW
sometime for Nostalgia sake.
Absolutely. But it will have to
be an 86. Thank you Yamaha
for building a legend.
Want your story featured?
Simply email your
words and pics to rob@
motoriderworld.com