Brett Downs
In the Spring of 1984, the BMX riders were dorks. At least to the rest of the school we were. We had found something different than the orthodox activities the rest of our peers did. It was beyond an activity and was nearly an obsession. Maybe we were dorks…
At Red Lion Area Senior High School, Stu Ebersole, Dan Ahearn, Will Bennett, Mike Daily, Brian Peters and myself were the guys who were into BMX. We found each other at the local tracks, dirt jumps or simply by spotting someone else with Vans clad feet.
In those days if you were wearing Vans, it was a secret sign that you were a part of something elusive to the majority. One day in the cafeteria, we talked about forming a BMX team based on the guys at that table and a few other friends who weren’t yet of high school age. Half the guys were racers and half of us just jumped our bikes and did whatever tricks we could come across via the magazine how to articles. The seed was planted during C lunch period.
Eventually, the racer guys didn’t become part of the team. Freestyle was brand new and starting to blossom into legitimacy on it’s own. Brian Peters had a BMX Action style quarter pipe and a wedge ramp at his house. He was the most radical and naturally talented rider. His long rock and roll hair and quiet demeanor made his riding stand out even more. We quickly “liberated” some plywood at a new construction site about half a mile from his house and Brian’s small ramps were soon replaced with a proper eight foot quarter pipe and a dialed wedge ramp. Brian stopped riding after high school and I’m pretty sure if he had kept riding, you’d all know his name.
I was the rookie in proper BMX but I had already spent over a decade of jumping my bike off homemade ramps, dirt mounds and doing what would eventually be called “street riding”. I rode a coaster brake bike with no handbrakes and looked like a kook when I showed up around town compared to the other guys on proper PK Rippers or Kuwaharas. That was until we started riding and I’d show them up on my Huffy buy not only following them through their dirt jumps but turning around and doing the line backwards.
Mike Daily was a racer. He had the sickest bike, studied the magazines and was a true BMX guru. To this day he could probably tell you the name of the rider who got fourth place in 14 intermediate at the Grands in 1983. His enthusiasm became the catalyst for what we were to become. He unabashedly walked the school halls in his GT jersey and was proud to be a BMX rider when the rest of us were more timid about it. Mike had something special; a spark to do what to the rest of us was a pipe dream. There was a reason his nickname was “Cap’n Hood”.
Mike somehow found a way to create a zine to capture his vision of BMX both locally and with whatever he liked in the greater world. This newfound creative outlet and Xerox experience led to logos and promotional pieces. Brian’s art also became our logos. My gift of loquaciousness had me in the mouthpiece role.
York, Pennsylvania was a small city with a big BMX scene. There was a local track, a couple of good shops, several dirt jump areas and even an abandoned 1970’s skatepark. With all these places to ride, the local top riders were about as good as the California riders we always saw in the magazines. By the time the the Plywood Hoods really got established, the best riders had quit BMX. Some got cars or girlfriends. Some gave it up for breakdancing.
Showbiz Pizza was a child centered pizza place with video games, animatronics, and crappy food. The best thing Showbiz offered happened to be weekend breakdancing contests. One night after we escaped the mall security guards, who were decidedly not impressed with our tricks, we met up with Kevin Jones, Mark Eaton and some other Cardboard Lords celebrating their recent win. Kevin had been renowned in York as the ultimate BMX rider before he quit to breakdance.
Kevin was fascinated by the Skyway axle pegs sticking out of Mike’s wheels. I showed him the Potts Mod on my bike which allowed the bars to spin 360 degrees and still have a front brake on the bike. I demonstrated a tail whip and he made me do it a few times so he could understand this confounding new move. Mike did some balance and hopping tricks on his pegs. Kevin was in awe. Years later Kev would tell me that when he saw the pegs, he knew BMX was now unlimited. He’d literally done everything he’d seen in the magazines and quite often done it better. Now the possibilities were endless. The next day, he ordered a new bike.
Along with Kevin and Mark came Dale Mitzel, an ex-rider turned breakdancer. The five of us became the Plywood Hoods the world would know. Soon the team would begin to evolve with riders coming and going throughout the years. Jamie McKulik, Jim Dellavalle, John Huddleston, John Stapleton, Chase Gouin, and Chris Young were all Hoods. Transient riders would come through town for extended periods and get absorbed. Geoff Martin, Dave Mirra, Leif Valin, Ivan, Digger, and Dylan Worsley all rode with us becoming extended family. New generations of riders came up and spent countless hours in the parking lot with us. Lincoln Harberger, Micah Murray, and Billy Jarboe were second generation Hoods.
Just tonight I realized that it’s been 40 calendar years since we formed the Plywood Hoods. People often ask me about the experience and tell me what the Hoods meant to them. The most common question is what was it that made us different. To me it was Talent, Attitude and Timing. Individually we were all strong riders, which really helped but what really made it special was finding the right people at the right time with a similar mindset.
Kevin used to say we were “trying to get great”. By that he meant we would try our damndest every time we rode. The goal was the quest toward an unobtainable greatness, not to actually achieve a final greatness. Every day was about being better than yesterday. No solid end goal other than to improve and have fun.
We found a like minded group of friends, encouraging and challenging each other yet not taking it so seriously. We Hoods had a word for it- Fidge. Fidging was goofing around, cracking jokes or doing something ridiculous on purpose for a laugh.
This hard work ethic, creativity and a healthy dose of Fidge made the Plywood Hoods what they were and we as people still are.
When I look back at my experience as a Plywood Hood, I quickly realize how fortunate I was to be a part of the team. I also feel like it’s both something I once did and something I still am, even though I don’t consider team to be active anymore. Perhaps its like the members of Led Zeppelin. Plant, Page, and Jones all still do music but they aren’t Zeppelin anymore. They were all talented, played together for a few years, did huge things and then it was done. They all still do music, just not together as they did in their youth. If you continue, you must evolve. I’m sure any of the Plywood Hoods I mentioned could still hop onto a bike and bust out. The riding would be different now but you would catch the derivation.
So now we are four decades since that pivotal cafeteria table moment. I thought I’d take a few moments to reflect. The Plywood Hood riders are all still family to me. It’s hard for me to step outside and see what the team meant to other riders but I appreciate what we accomplished as a team, individuals, and how we made BMX a bit better. It’s been a hell of a ride and though then end will one day come, the session isn’t yet over. I want to thank all the riders out there, then and now. Personally, I’m looking forward to my next ride. I’m still trying to get great. You should be doing the same.
