In The ’60s And ’70s, Kids Dreamed Of Muscle Cars And Rode Muscle Bikes

“Tepid Start? And where’s Jason?” Yes, sorry, but owing to travel snafus getting back from Monterey Car Week, Jason will be joining us too late in the day for what could reasonably be called a Cold Start, so I’m filling in. You could sound less disappointed, jeez. 

I think his name was Roy. The passing of some fifty years has dulled my memory, but Roy lived at the outskirts of the radius from my home that I was allowed to travel as a 7- or 8-year-old. My leash was shorter than other kids’ my age in the neighborhood, but still shockingly long by today’s standards – long enough that I could make it the half-mile or so to Roy’s place, a tiny rented farmhouse that Roy seemed to live in by himself, as I never saw his parents. Roy was “the poor kid,” but I always envied his wealth in hand-me-down toys, fantastic things from the late sixties, including a Remco Lost In Space robot and a car that could be set loose on the kitchen table but never fall off thanks to a clever mechanism that I studied with fascination.

Most alluring, though, was Roy’s bicycle. Something I had never seen in real life before, but remembered vividly from a bicycle safety pamphlet: a Schwinn Orange Krate procured from a yard sale. Even before I saw the confirming lettering on the chain guard, I knew it was a Krate. Sixteen-inch front wheel with drum brake; springer fork; shock-absorber struts supporting a banana seat; fat, square-shouldered slick rear tire beneath a bobbed fender; ape-hanger bars; and the pièce de résistance, a towering five-speed shifter.

At this point, circa 1975, I was on the sole BMX bike in the neighborhood, a conversion my Dad had assembled for me after I was blown away by the motocross bicycles I saw in “Petersen’s Complete Guide To The Bicycle,” which was designed to capture readers interested in joining the ten-speed boom but had a chapter on the nascent So-Cal BMX scene that enthralled me. But I still had a deep affection for what we called “chopper bikes,” and though I would discover they were fairly miserable to actually ride, their car- and motorcycle-like features were serious stuff and catnip for my imagination, especially as things I had merely seen in pictures, never in person. Until Roy’s Krate.

Up until 1963, balloon-tired bikes were the most common bicycles you’d see, under both adults and children. “Middleweights” like the Schwinn Hornet and Typhoon were bread-and-butter models, and similar-looking but less ruggedly built bikes were offered by scores of brands.

That all changed with the 1964 Schwinn lineup, which marked the debut of the Sting-Ray, “the bicycle with the sports car look,” as the catalog proclaimed.

As Schwinn tells it,

Schwinn introduced the original Sting-Ray in 1963 after the company realized kids in California had been customizing their bikes to look like motorcycles. Bikes were fitted with 20-inch wheels, elongated seats, rear “sissy bars,” and ape hanger handlebars.

It didn’t take long for Schwinn to develop a similar style. Al Fritz, Schwinn’s director of research and development, recommended the Sting-Ray as a way to replicate the style California kids were looking for. The Sting-Ray quickly became the bestselling bike in Schwinn’s history.

These kids’ bikes featured a coaster brake on the large back wheel and wide-stance handlebars that were perfect for popping big wheelies. The connection of the bike’s name with the (at the time) new Corvette helped solidify the connection between the bicycle and glorified automobiles of the sixties. Before long, the Sting-Ray was synonymous with suburban youth in the 1960s.

All true! The Sting-Ray would go on to become the standard for BMX conversions until the first dedicated purpose-built bikes from Webco, Redline, BMW Products (Mongoose) and others appeared. But in between the launch of the Sting-Ray and the late 70s – early 80s BMX boom, muscle bikes were what kids dreamed of.

The Krate series was the ultimate example of the form, both in quality and technical ambition (and cost), leaving other brands to lean heavily on style. Top-tube-mounted stick shifters were de rigueur, and designers went wild with frame shapes and handlebar bends. Clearly, it wasn’t just the seats that were bananas.

Sears threw the kitchen sink at its Screamer lineup, including some of the 1970s worst handlebars. Just look at the kids in the corner, doing their best. The upside-down brake levers operated dual rear brakes, because somehow twice the rear stopping power will make up for the lack of a front brake, I guess.

Huffy’s Slingshot offered not one but two shifters to wreck kids’ privates, an all-too common occurrence that ended the short reign of the bicycle stick shifter.

Huffy went harder than anyone for car-ness with The Wheel, which, as you can see, replaced the handlebar with a straight-up steering wheel. I imagine these were absolutely awful to ride, with the perfect combination of no good position for your hands and ample opportunity for smashing your knees. That sissy bar though …

Motorcycle themes were also rampant, of course, what with bicycles being two-wheeled and all. Mattel’s V-RROOM line featured a noise-making “engine.”

A few brands offered truly chopperized bicycles, and perhaps none were as committed to the bit as Murray. Sears also sold a version of the Cat series, with and without a simulated peanut tank. Unfortunately, the thrill of riding these things was inversely proportional to the thrill of looking at them, which is to say they were terrible.

Through the mid 70s to the dawn of the eighties, muscle bikes faded as motocross styles ascended. Some of the earliest bikes, such as the Rampar R-5, could be mistaken for a minibike minus an engine. The functional telescoping shocks and swingarm rear suspension sapped pedaling power (and weighed a ton), but man, you could really jump these things.

Even motorcycle makers got in on the game, with Kawasaki and Yamaha producing fully suspended bikes and even sponsoring riders and races.

Kawasaki was way ahead of its time with an aluminum frame, way before Cannondale and Klein.

And look, here’s Bob “Hurricane” Hannah extolling the virtues of the Yamaha Moto-Bike. Pretty sure Bob’s nickname was derived from the hairdryer he relied on for his Farrah Fawcett look.

And for the full motocross bike experience, be sure to install R-R-R-Raw Power:

Did you have a muscle bike? Were you a BMX kid? Did you rock a R-R-Raw Power? See you in the comments. Cold Start returns tomorrow, with 100% real Jason!

Top graphic images: Schwinn; Sears