Hybrids
Or a motorcycle by any other name sounds as sweet.
Dick Christensen
Three or four years ago a friend’s Ossa digested a fistful of wet sand during a 100-mile enduro. An autopsy showed the engine to be a write-off, but since the rest of the bike was okay, the guy decided to salvage it by sticking another engine in it. He had most of a Bridgestone mill stored in about 11 cardboard boxes, so he pasted that together and, with a little welding and hacksaw work, he stuffed it into the hollow Spaniard.
Presto! That old mother, necessity, had created a hybrid. He called it the Ossa-Stone, but we, his fellow riders and admirers of his craft, condensed and bastardized it to read, Ozone.
That particular hybrid handled like an arthritic snake and never to my knowledge ran for more than five minutes straight. . .it only went straight. The Ozone’s real value was as a stimulus for the creation of a long-running, often-revived game that we call Hybrids.
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The basic object of this pleasantly useless pastime is to mentally construct every conceivable marriage of motorcycle brands and components. The following is a loose description of the way this game is played. (Note: These are not rules, just suggestions based on the way it happened to progress at our beery sessions).
To get the bull rolling, you might call to mind some common and generally successful hybrids. People have been planting Triumph Twins in old Norton Manxes for years, so the Triton is a well-known rig. Stray Vincent engines occasionally find the same Featherbed home, making Norvins. There are also Yamatacos, Norbsas, Beezumphs and Grumphs (Greeves Triumphs) to name a few.
Once you start thinking along these lines, you’re on your way. Increasingly bizarre and unlikely combinations will occur to you—Munch Métissé, Maicossa, Hondial, Lube Enfield, Morbidot, ad infinitum, the stranger the better.
One of the nice things about this game is its extreme flexibility. You can play it by yourself or in a group of any number as the occasion demands. In any case, it’s a good idea to have pencil and paper on hand to list brands and to work up combinations. A master list of every current and defunct make you can think of can serve as a reference for your creations.
You will find that the serious hybridization begins after the quickies have been exhausted. It soon becomes clear that wordplay is the real meat of the game, as well as the true test of the individual player’s skill. Here is a sampling of the more memorable matches our crew has come up with: Sasparilla (Sachs/Parilla), Jawasaki, Francis Barnett, B.S., Simson Sears (for Canadians), Gilette (Gilera/Velo), Gaulstone (any French moped w/Bridgestone power). Surely you can add some good ones to the list.
The many special builders and goodie manufacturers offer a gaggle of weird possibilities. An Egli-prepared URS, for example, would yield an Ugli. A Dun Yet? would result from a machine with both a Yetman frame and Dunstall parts. Or how about these: Alpha Beta (Moto Beta w/Alpha crank), Roller Derbi (all Timken bearings), Lake Superior (Brough w/flat slide carb).
That last one suggests another side of this game. History buffs can play a version of Hybrids using only the names of archaic brands. There is considerable potential in this, as there have been more than 200 makes in the U.S. alone! A hybrid that fits nicely into this category is the Cleveland Indian, a machine popular for years among sports fans.
Non-history buffs can mix in the odd oldie at random with more contemporary brands; consider the Jim Beam, a James scrambler with a Sunbeam engine. Sprite parts added to that Jim Beam would result in a bike somewhat resembling a motorized highball.
When you start coming up with triple combinations and/or multiple pun complexes such as this, you will know you’ve reached the highest level of skill attainable in playing Hybrids. This entitles you to the honorary degree of HRD (Hypothetical Research & Development).
Advanced players may want to offer brief descriptive analyses of their hybrids. The really brilliant player will make the most of this part of the game by citing social, political, ethnic and cultural influences; these and anything else you might think of are fair ground as sources for your descriptions.
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Take for example the Guzzapp (Moto Guzzi/Zundapp). Should this machine ever be constructed, it would undoubtedly have a narrow, rock-hard seat and a brutally Teutonic gas tank. The very name carries more than a hint ot visceral violence in its pronunciation and heritage. Or how about the Moto Zukini (Morim/Suzuki), which calls to mind an image combining the excitement ot a breathtaking circus act and the savory appeal of Italian cooking. If we take the Alpha Beta mentioned earlier and bolt it into a pre-Kawasaki Omega, the product would be an Alpha Beta Omega. A major market potential for this bike might be found among college fraternity members.
If this higher level of the game appeals to you, try creating some famous (or not so famous) names with your mechanical genetics. Jawa suspen sion and a Panther engine mounted in a Morgan three-wheeler would yield a J.P. Morgan. This motorcycle would no doubt be very expensive and difficult to finance. A White scrambler with a Whizzer engine and belt drive would produce a Whizzer White, a sporting machine to be sure, but conservative in its performance and specification. These two are my personal favorites and I can't help but think you'll be hard-put to top them.
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You might also look into mounts tailored to people with certain educational credentials. A lawyer might well be seen riding an L.L.D. (Lambretta/ Lube/Ducati), while the majority of highly educated motorcyclists would probably chose Ph.D.s (Panther/FlarleyDavidsons). What do you suppose these professional people would ride: M.D., D.D.S., L.P.M., M.F.A.?
This matter of abbreviations brings to mind the many brands of motorcycles known primarily by their initials: NSU, ESO, CZ, MZ, BMW, DKW, MV, FN, BSA, JAP, AJS, HRD, URS, KTM, DOT, QUB. There is untold potential in these and others. . .for a skilled scrambler.
Should you reach a point where you think you’ve exhausted all the possibilities in this game (very unlikely), you can dip into the vast storehouse of model names, mixing models only (Mammoth Plonker), or makes and models (Sunbeam Stormer). This opens up a whole new realm of possibilities.
Another branch of the game with promising potential is the combination of motorcycle names with other types of machinery. How about a Japanese fighter plane with a James A. Prestwich engine (JAP Zero), or a Honda-engined snowmobile (Hondoo). Car engines in bikes are not uncommon; perhaps you can do something in that vein.
Maybe you know of some actual attempts at hybridization that put this sort of fantasy to shame. I once saw a 45-inch Indian flathead shoehorned into a Cushman Eagle (Eagle Scout?). Maybe playing this game will inspire you to build a never-before-attempted-in-thishemisphere special. Maybe it will work. In any case, remember that whatever bending, twisting, shortening or other distortion suggests itself in playing Hybrids (or building them), by all means do it. . .there aren’t any rules, you see. [Q]