| The Power of the Internet |
Many years ago, long before the words "download", "bandwidth", and
“porn surfing” were used daily by the semi-technical general public,
hard-core computer geeks of the world created a quirky system for
communicating with each other electronically. I was made aware of this
system at the beginning of my freshman year at the University of Illinois,
when a letter from the Administration building showed up in campus
mail. The letter advised me that all incoming freshmen were being
given a free account of some sort that could be accessed by computer
terminal, and this account would enable us to send electronic
messages to each other. Today we call it e-mail, but in the Fall of 1989,
I didn't know what the heck it was or how it could be useful.
This was all explained to me in detail by my brother Jim, a computer
science major finishing his senior year at Illinois. He showed me that
by accessing the free account, not only could I communicate
electronically with other people, but I could also visit a vast number of
newsgroups (today's version of message boards) covering just about
any topic I could think of. Two topics immediately came to mind:
motorcycles and sex, in that order. Both were covered in the
newsgroups. Motorcycle discussions were located in a broad category
that began with the letters "rec", meaning "recreation." Sex was covered
under "alt", which I assume meant "alternative."
To access the message boards, I had to walk to the English building
on Wright Street, a 10-minute hike from my dorm, and log on to the
university's mainframe computer in a dark basement computer lab,
jockeying with the hard-core computer geeks for the best terminals. By
typing in the correct combination of commands, I could read messages
posted by people all over the world who shared common interests. And
I could post my own messages and read the responses. At that time,
there was but one message board for motorcycles, called "rec.
motorcycles". A few years later, as the newsgroup grew, "rec.
motorcycles" added a sub-category, "rec.motorcycles.dirt".
In the early days of newsgroups, there were no forum administrators,
no registration process, and generally no rules whatsoever. Those who
frequented rec.motorcycles (and later rec.motorcycles.dirt, or "RMD")
tended to be "techies" of some sort or college wannabe computer
geeks like me. Any comment, any statement purported as fact, was
open to debate that could rapidly deteriorate into ridicule. Any
contributor could be subject to a wide variety of creative insults. It was a
cyber-space version of National Geographic on location in Africa: a
chance to view the weak being eaten by the sharp-tongued. During my
freshman year at Illinois I posted a comment that all scooters are
dangerous and was soundly criticized for posting such a generalization
(understand that at in those days, college campuses were overrun with
tiny-tired scooters operated by city kids with little experience on two-
wheeled motorized vehicles...I had the same feelings then for scooters
and their riders that I have for ATV's now). While this "flaming" was a
blow to my fragile 20-year-old ego, a valuable lesson was learned
about the politics of communication: always qualify a statement by
using words such as "most", "somewhat", "usually", or anything else
that gets you off the hook if your statement is challenged.
While the internet world expanded, so did RMD. After college I took a 5-
year hiatus from electronic communication, due to the fact that I was
working at barely subsistence-level wages and wouldn't shell out my
hard-earned cash for a computer. Things changed when I came to St.
Louis and began working for a bank that was generous enough to
provide internet access for everyone. I immediately rejoined RMD and
found that it was formatted a little differently but the content was
generally the same.
Flame On
Between 1993 and 1998, RMD had grown considerably but its
personality had changed little. A typical "thread" often went something
like this:
Rm250dude: What's normal compression for a 1983 RM250?
Frisco Kid: Geez, everyone knows it should be 190 pounds.
Fried 'Maters: Yo RM - what cave you been livin' in the last 15 years?
SoCal#1: Yeah, this guy's a couple bricks short of a load.
SonomaGuy: Everyone knows RM's suck anyway.
HondaRulz: Dumb sh-- should have bought a CR. That RM's a waste of
time.
GoodFella: Hey, lighten up, he just asked a simple question.
Fried 'Maters: GoodFella, you're in the wrong newsgroup...try alt.
lesbians.basketweaving.
SonomaGuy: Rm250dude and GoodFella probably play hide the
sausage together.
Frisco Kid: Yeah, total bone smokers.
Maybe that's a slight exaggeration. I have to admit I found it
entertaining....until the day I became RMD's whipping boy.
It all started so innocently.
The RMD regulars were a loyal bunch. When word spread about a
good dealer, they sang its praises. On the flip side, an aftermarket
product labeled "bad" by RMD was shunned, and anyone admitting to
using that product was soundly ridiculed. By the time I began my
second tour as an RMD regular in 1998, a certain mail order outfit, who
will remain nameless, had achieved "sacred cow" status on RMD. Over
and over again, the RMD'ers recommended this company for its great
service and prices. I needed a seat cover for my KTM, so I gave them a
call without shopping around and ordered what was recommended by
the friendly guy at the other end of the phone.
When the seat cover arrived, I discovered the magic behind this
company's business model: the package was drop-shipped from a
distributor's warehouse. It was a great way to run a mail order
company. Buy goods on standard credit terms from a distributor at
wholesale prices, and have them shipped from the warehouse directly
to the consumer. Inventory management wasn't an issue because they
didn't take delivery of products. Shipping concerns were nonexistent
because the distributor handled deliveries and didn't charge the mail
order company anything extra for this service.
Inside the shipping box was an invoice from the distributor (which I'm
pretty sure I was never intended to see) showing the wholesale cost to
the mail order company. Naturally, it was less than what I had paid the
mail order company. Waaaay less. A second invoice from the mail
order company, delivered separately, showed full retail price on the
seat cover plus another $10 or so listed as shipping charges. At that
point I was annoyed for two reasons. First, I had been charged full retail
price. O.K., my fault for not shopping around, but the RMD'ers neglected
to mention that the company's good prices could only be had by asking
them to match someone else's price. And second, they charged me for
shipping even though they didn't incur any delivery costs. Granted, they
could charge whatever they wanted and I accepted their price, so it
must have been fair, right? True, but it didn't keep me from being
irritated.
I posted a summary on RMD of my experience with this "sacred cow", in
which I disagreed that they had the best prices and expressed my
dissatisfaction that they had represented an additional charge as being
for shipping when there clearly was no delivery cost to the company.
Predictably, there were many responses, all negative. I was flamed.
The RMD'ers took to my remarks as if I had vulgarly insulted their
mothers. It had to be one of the worst flamings in the history of RMD.
A week or so after my post, I began to receive a trickle of e-mails from
other RMD'ers who'd had similar experiences with this mail order
company. They didn't speak out publicly for fear of the flaming that was
bound to follow, but were happy that I was a willing chump. In the end, I
gradually phased out RMD in favor of moderated message boards that
were friendlier and much better organized. While it still exists today,
RMD is far from the single source of online dirt bike discussion that it
once was.
I Can't Believe It's My Own Web Site!
At some point in the year 2000, I stumbled across Yahoo! Geocities, a
freebie web site hosting service. "Free" and "Web Site" got me thinking,
why not share my love of dirt biking with the rest of the world? After all,
there were only 100,000 or so similar sites to choose from, so there
was clearly a need for one more. Actually, the need I saw was for well-
written stories of racing from the rider's perspective. The magazines did
a good job of describing the off-road scene from a spectator's view, but
most of the coverage was on National-type events attended by pro-level
racers. I wanted to read first-person race reports from average guys like
me, describing the various obstacles that less skilled riders face each
time they compete. This type of writing was hard to find, so I began
composing my own race reports and posting them on my web site.
What followed was the product of a single guy with plenty of (some
would say too much) free time. The content of the web site quickly grew
beyond what I had ever imagined. At the time I began writing about
racing, I had purchased my first KTM and was learning about the quirks
of a European dirt bike. Time after time, people would post the same
questions on internet discussion groups about heim bearings and
mushy front brakes and other common KTM issues. After gathering
some knowledge about these subjects through personal experience, I
added to the site my thoughts and suggestions about KTM-specific
issues. People actually found them helpful, so I added more. The web
site soon became a resource for lesser-experienced KTM owners and
a source of entertainment for those wishing to read about the
misadventures of an average off-road racer.
Over the years I've received a steady stream of e-mails from people
who have enjoyed the web site. A few have mentioned that the race
reports encouraged them to get into racing, which is especially
gratifying. There are many things a person can do to add value to our
sport, but helping convince someone to get out and ride more often has
to be near the top of the list. That's powerful stuff.
“porn surfing” were used daily by the semi-technical general public,
hard-core computer geeks of the world created a quirky system for
communicating with each other electronically. I was made aware of this
system at the beginning of my freshman year at the University of Illinois,
when a letter from the Administration building showed up in campus
mail. The letter advised me that all incoming freshmen were being
given a free account of some sort that could be accessed by computer
terminal, and this account would enable us to send electronic
messages to each other. Today we call it e-mail, but in the Fall of 1989,
I didn't know what the heck it was or how it could be useful.
This was all explained to me in detail by my brother Jim, a computer
science major finishing his senior year at Illinois. He showed me that
by accessing the free account, not only could I communicate
electronically with other people, but I could also visit a vast number of
newsgroups (today's version of message boards) covering just about
any topic I could think of. Two topics immediately came to mind:
motorcycles and sex, in that order. Both were covered in the
newsgroups. Motorcycle discussions were located in a broad category
that began with the letters "rec", meaning "recreation." Sex was covered
under "alt", which I assume meant "alternative."
To access the message boards, I had to walk to the English building
on Wright Street, a 10-minute hike from my dorm, and log on to the
university's mainframe computer in a dark basement computer lab,
jockeying with the hard-core computer geeks for the best terminals. By
typing in the correct combination of commands, I could read messages
posted by people all over the world who shared common interests. And
I could post my own messages and read the responses. At that time,
there was but one message board for motorcycles, called "rec.
motorcycles". A few years later, as the newsgroup grew, "rec.
motorcycles" added a sub-category, "rec.motorcycles.dirt".
In the early days of newsgroups, there were no forum administrators,
no registration process, and generally no rules whatsoever. Those who
frequented rec.motorcycles (and later rec.motorcycles.dirt, or "RMD")
tended to be "techies" of some sort or college wannabe computer
geeks like me. Any comment, any statement purported as fact, was
open to debate that could rapidly deteriorate into ridicule. Any
contributor could be subject to a wide variety of creative insults. It was a
cyber-space version of National Geographic on location in Africa: a
chance to view the weak being eaten by the sharp-tongued. During my
freshman year at Illinois I posted a comment that all scooters are
dangerous and was soundly criticized for posting such a generalization
(understand that at in those days, college campuses were overrun with
tiny-tired scooters operated by city kids with little experience on two-
wheeled motorized vehicles...I had the same feelings then for scooters
and their riders that I have for ATV's now). While this "flaming" was a
blow to my fragile 20-year-old ego, a valuable lesson was learned
about the politics of communication: always qualify a statement by
using words such as "most", "somewhat", "usually", or anything else
that gets you off the hook if your statement is challenged.
While the internet world expanded, so did RMD. After college I took a 5-
year hiatus from electronic communication, due to the fact that I was
working at barely subsistence-level wages and wouldn't shell out my
hard-earned cash for a computer. Things changed when I came to St.
Louis and began working for a bank that was generous enough to
provide internet access for everyone. I immediately rejoined RMD and
found that it was formatted a little differently but the content was
generally the same.
Flame On
Between 1993 and 1998, RMD had grown considerably but its
personality had changed little. A typical "thread" often went something
like this:
Rm250dude: What's normal compression for a 1983 RM250?
Frisco Kid: Geez, everyone knows it should be 190 pounds.
Fried 'Maters: Yo RM - what cave you been livin' in the last 15 years?
SoCal#1: Yeah, this guy's a couple bricks short of a load.
SonomaGuy: Everyone knows RM's suck anyway.
HondaRulz: Dumb sh-- should have bought a CR. That RM's a waste of
time.
GoodFella: Hey, lighten up, he just asked a simple question.
Fried 'Maters: GoodFella, you're in the wrong newsgroup...try alt.
lesbians.basketweaving.
SonomaGuy: Rm250dude and GoodFella probably play hide the
sausage together.
Frisco Kid: Yeah, total bone smokers.
Maybe that's a slight exaggeration. I have to admit I found it
entertaining....until the day I became RMD's whipping boy.
It all started so innocently.
The RMD regulars were a loyal bunch. When word spread about a
good dealer, they sang its praises. On the flip side, an aftermarket
product labeled "bad" by RMD was shunned, and anyone admitting to
using that product was soundly ridiculed. By the time I began my
second tour as an RMD regular in 1998, a certain mail order outfit, who
will remain nameless, had achieved "sacred cow" status on RMD. Over
and over again, the RMD'ers recommended this company for its great
service and prices. I needed a seat cover for my KTM, so I gave them a
call without shopping around and ordered what was recommended by
the friendly guy at the other end of the phone.
When the seat cover arrived, I discovered the magic behind this
company's business model: the package was drop-shipped from a
distributor's warehouse. It was a great way to run a mail order
company. Buy goods on standard credit terms from a distributor at
wholesale prices, and have them shipped from the warehouse directly
to the consumer. Inventory management wasn't an issue because they
didn't take delivery of products. Shipping concerns were nonexistent
because the distributor handled deliveries and didn't charge the mail
order company anything extra for this service.
Inside the shipping box was an invoice from the distributor (which I'm
pretty sure I was never intended to see) showing the wholesale cost to
the mail order company. Naturally, it was less than what I had paid the
mail order company. Waaaay less. A second invoice from the mail
order company, delivered separately, showed full retail price on the
seat cover plus another $10 or so listed as shipping charges. At that
point I was annoyed for two reasons. First, I had been charged full retail
price. O.K., my fault for not shopping around, but the RMD'ers neglected
to mention that the company's good prices could only be had by asking
them to match someone else's price. And second, they charged me for
shipping even though they didn't incur any delivery costs. Granted, they
could charge whatever they wanted and I accepted their price, so it
must have been fair, right? True, but it didn't keep me from being
irritated.
I posted a summary on RMD of my experience with this "sacred cow", in
which I disagreed that they had the best prices and expressed my
dissatisfaction that they had represented an additional charge as being
for shipping when there clearly was no delivery cost to the company.
Predictably, there were many responses, all negative. I was flamed.
The RMD'ers took to my remarks as if I had vulgarly insulted their
mothers. It had to be one of the worst flamings in the history of RMD.
A week or so after my post, I began to receive a trickle of e-mails from
other RMD'ers who'd had similar experiences with this mail order
company. They didn't speak out publicly for fear of the flaming that was
bound to follow, but were happy that I was a willing chump. In the end, I
gradually phased out RMD in favor of moderated message boards that
were friendlier and much better organized. While it still exists today,
RMD is far from the single source of online dirt bike discussion that it
once was.
I Can't Believe It's My Own Web Site!
At some point in the year 2000, I stumbled across Yahoo! Geocities, a
freebie web site hosting service. "Free" and "Web Site" got me thinking,
why not share my love of dirt biking with the rest of the world? After all,
there were only 100,000 or so similar sites to choose from, so there
was clearly a need for one more. Actually, the need I saw was for well-
written stories of racing from the rider's perspective. The magazines did
a good job of describing the off-road scene from a spectator's view, but
most of the coverage was on National-type events attended by pro-level
racers. I wanted to read first-person race reports from average guys like
me, describing the various obstacles that less skilled riders face each
time they compete. This type of writing was hard to find, so I began
composing my own race reports and posting them on my web site.
What followed was the product of a single guy with plenty of (some
would say too much) free time. The content of the web site quickly grew
beyond what I had ever imagined. At the time I began writing about
racing, I had purchased my first KTM and was learning about the quirks
of a European dirt bike. Time after time, people would post the same
questions on internet discussion groups about heim bearings and
mushy front brakes and other common KTM issues. After gathering
some knowledge about these subjects through personal experience, I
added to the site my thoughts and suggestions about KTM-specific
issues. People actually found them helpful, so I added more. The web
site soon became a resource for lesser-experienced KTM owners and
a source of entertainment for those wishing to read about the
misadventures of an average off-road racer.
Over the years I've received a steady stream of e-mails from people
who have enjoyed the web site. A few have mentioned that the race
reports encouraged them to get into racing, which is especially
gratifying. There are many things a person can do to add value to our
sport, but helping convince someone to get out and ride more often has
to be near the top of the list. That's powerful stuff.
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