| June 11, 2023
Cycle News Archives
COLUMN
The Minibike Maniac
By Kent Taylor
There is a greying (or perhaps fully grey) segment of today’s motorcyclists who did not begin their riding careers with a push of a button or even the kick of a lever. For those riders who grew up watching television shows featuring a highly intelligent collie or a modern stone-age family or a puzzlingly-diverse group of boaters stranded on a remote island, the pathway to motorcycling began with the pull of a cord; one or two (or 12) hearty yanks and the graduation from pedal-power to an authentic internal combustion engine was complete. Ranging from a mere two ponies to a king-of-the-city-block five horsepower motor, these two-wheelers had more than enough power to carry the scrawny, T-shirt and shorts adorned bodies that were straddling them.
They were called “minibikes.” And they were fun!
Just as every square is a rectangle (but not vice-versa), a minibike was certainly a motorcycle, in that it had two wheels and a motor, which was usually a reliable Briggs & Stratton or Tecumseh brand. A twist grip throttle kept the machine in motion and the most primitive of brakes (other than Fred Flintstone digging in his heels to stop the family sedan) brought everything to a halt—eventually. The sizable metal pad that forced its will on the spinning rear tire meant that braking performance was entirely dependent on the still-developing leg muscles of the rider.
The lawn mower-style engine on a minibike also spared the beginning rider the angst of mastering the clutch/gearshift/throttle trifecta. It was simply twist ’n go, which is how Tom Drzewiecki, the self-proclaimed “Minibike Maniac” began his shiftless life.
“I really wanted a go cart when I was a kid,” Drzewiecki recalls from his home in Muskego, Wisconsin. “But my dad brought home a Benelli minicycle instead. I couldn’t figure out how to shift the gears and work the clutch, so he wound up selling it and getting me a minibike instead.”
Purchasing a minibike in the 1960s was almost as convenient as picking up a dozen eggs for the family. At the peak of the craze, there were more than 150 companies across the country supplying two-wheeled fun to local hardware shops, farm implement dealers and even department stores. Montgomery Ward, JC Penney’s and Sears touted a full lineup of minis that were sourced from various manufacturers like Bird Engineering and General Appliance, both located in Nebraska.
“The manufacturers offered variations on the design, but for the most part, they were all very similar machines,” Drzewiecki said. “There were kits that you could buy or even just plans and drawings so that you could build your own. You could find them in the back pages of Popular Mechanics and other handyman magazines. Across the country, dads were welding up frames around old lawn mower engines. There were even plans that showed you how to mount a lawn mower engine to a bicycle.”
Today, Drzewiecki owns more than 60 minibikes. “Some are homemade, some are more interesting than the standard department store mini,” he says. One of his most unusual finds is the Luther Viper Cycle, built in Pasadena, California. In a departure from the better-known four-cycle models, the Luther was powered by a two-cycle engine. “Not many people know this, but some of the very early minibikes of the 1960s used two-stroke engines,” he says. The Viper offered either a Clinton 98cc version or a Power Products AH-47, the latter of which delivered a whopping two horsepower!
The minibike marketing teams must’ve worked overtime dreaming up spiffy monikers for the little machines. In addition to the Viper, there was the Cheetah, Scoot-A-Long, Lil Indian, Wildcat, Micro Rebel, Bonanza and El Tigre—just a few of the saucy names given to the minibikes. Bird Engineering honored their legacy by offering the Lark, the Wren and the Drover. Finally, for $179.95, Sears & Roebuck offered, “The Puncher,” which came with a four-horsepower motor, along with front and rear suspension (albeit with a rigid tail, hence only the rider’s rump was truly sprung).
There is a current resurgence in the minibike world, as forums, websites and Facebook pages are introducing a younger generation to the fun. Kyle Calkins is a 34-year-old enthusiast from Milford, Nebraska, who caught the minibike fever a few years ago. “My friend got one and now I’m hardcore into it,” Calkins says. “A lot of people aren’t aware of the fact that many of these little bikes were manufactured here in my home state. Besides Bird Engineering in Fremont and General Appliance (Trail Horse) in Omaha, Ramjet Mini Bikes were made in the little town of Hastings, located in the south-central part of the state.”
The minibike craze lasted into the 1970s—but not much longer. The arrival of the Honda Z50 “Mini Trail” in the late ’60s began to push the pull-starters aside. By 1974, the number of minibike manufacturers had shrunk from 150 to only 10.
There is a pregnant pause when Drzewiecki is asked about the arrival of the Mini Trail.
“That was pretty much the end,” he says. “For about the same money as a minibike [the Honda retailed for $225 in 1967], you could now get full suspension, an automatic clutch and a three-speed transmission with the Honda. Plus, you were buying it from a motorcycle shop, which meant parts and service. Prior to that, only the small engine shops would offer parts and repairs for their products. You certainly couldn’t take your minibike back to JC Penney’s for service.”
“Everything changes,” he says. “It is just how it is. But it is good to see this renewed interest as of late. When it comes to minibikes, it doesn’t matter how old you are. Anybody who has ever ridden one will do it again.
“You just don’t outgrow fun!” CN