The ’80s were fun. I was there.
We had MTV, AFX and, hugely for me, BMX. (Okay, lots of bad stuff also happened during the ’80s, but for now let’s concentrate on the good times, okay?)
As I remember–and, I admit, this was a long, long time ago–BMX rolled into our town around 1980. Maybe it was even earlier.
Anyway, the local hobby shop, a tiny storefront crammed full of model cars, model rockets and model airplanes, suddenly had a bike rack in the back corner full of BMX bikes. And not just any BMX bikes, but the latest from Mongoose.
Swoon.
And, no, I didn’t get one.
My first BMX bike was a cheap, all-steel affair from a company called Saint Tropez. I bought it used. I’m sure it weighed more than me.
But fast-forward just a few years to about 1983, and I was buying my first real BMX bike.
I think, by this time, I was working in a bike shop but, oddly, shopped elsewhere. Our local BMX specialty shop, Bike-A-Lot, had a deal, kinda: For $299 (as I remember) you could spec out a real, pro-grade frame with decent parts. You didn’t get a bike quite ready for an A Pro main, but it would be plenty respected at the local junior/senior high school.
Most of the kids at my school went with the usual suspects: GT, Hutch, maybe something from S.E. Racing.
For some reason, I picked something different: MCS Magnum 2000. It was light, simple and just had a business-like attitude that caught my eye. (I’d later learn that MCS was huge in its home state for Florida; where I grew up on Long Island, not so much.)
In addition to that MCS frame, I got a good mix of parts:
Suzue unsealed hubs laced with Sumo rims–basically Araya 7X clones–along with knock-off Comp III tires.
One-piece, 180mm Takagi chromoly cranks with an unsealed bottom bracket.
Pete’s Precision Products chain ring paired with a no-name power disc.
Real Dia-Compe MX1000 rear brake worked by a Shimano DX lever. (No idea why the shop mixed brands like that.)
GT-like bars clamped by an ACS stem. Grips were A’ME.
Kashimax Aero seat, no-name seat post, Laser clamp.
Shimano SX pedals–the smaller version of the brand’s iconic DX.
BMX was evolving quickly through the ’80s, though. Freestyle suddenly became huge so, of course, we had to adapt. I had to adapt. Plus things got colorful.
Add in my employee discount to bike parts plus some disposable income, and my bike was ever-changing. Somewhere in there, I updated the frame stickers so my bike looked like MCS’s latest offering.
By the time I broke my arm racing late in 1986–basically ending Chapter 1 of my BMX life–my MCS had evolved. It looked more freestyle than race bike: more colors, more mag wheels, more front brakes.
Where a lot of people pine for their old bikes, mine never went away. It’s been here with us ever since, making a few show appearances but, more or less, just hanging out, frozen in its 1986 guise.
Now enter Radwood, the celebration of all things from the ’80s and ’90s.
Earlier this year, I displayed my 1984 Porsche 911 Carrera at Radwood’s show at The Amelia and worked to fully get the car back into period: period IMSA stickers, period New York license plates, even a period radar detector. Since then, I have even added period registration and inspection stickers.
And the perfect period accessory for this showing? A BMX bike.
But I left the MCS at home that day, instead perching my retro Skyway T/A atop the 911’s roof.
A few years ago, using new/retro parts, I built this bike to emulate a skatepark bike from 1983. I figured it was the perfect presentation. (Plus I think the Skyway T/A is one of the prettiest bikes ever.)
People totally dug the pairing of BMX and Porsche.
But someone–there’s always that one guy–called me out: That’s not really an ’80s BMX bike.
Okay, fine, you win. Just did you have to be so snippy?
But I couldn’t just break out the MCS. It now looked 1986, not 1984. In the world of BMX, there was a difference.
So, the current plan: Get the MCS ready for Radwood in Lake Mirror, Florida, this coming October 15 by taking the bike alllll the way from 1986 to 1984.
Two years sounds trivial but, trust me, there’s work to be done.