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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 18-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.