Motorcycle Scavenger Hunt

When Gottlieb Daimler introduced the world to combustion-engined transport by taking two-wheeled tours of Cannstatt in the late 1880s, motorcycles were at best a pretty chancy business. In fact, most pioneering motorists insisted on a third wheel for security's sake, which no doubt helped account for the eager acceptance that greeted the cycle's fin de siècle four-wheeled substitute--the automobile. Down through the years, however, there remained a hard-core clan of loyal cycling enthusiasts who preferred the freewheeling feel of the road beneath them and the wind in their faces to the more claustrophobic comforts of a common motorcar. To them, 1908 was the year of the Rex, not the Model T. And while American auto enthusiasts extolled the virtues of such stalwarts as the Maxwell, Essex, Hup-mobile, Peerless and Model A, better-balanced motorists made their way through the century's first three decades astride their Rudges, Nortons, Reynolds Runabouts, Royal Enfields and Triumph Model Ps.

The post-War automobile boom and the antisocial handle-bar high jinks of several maverick motorcycling cliques across the nation brought a subsequent stigma to two-wheeled transport that relegated most of its diehard fans to the status of either racers or road hazards. The cycle's image was in desperate need of revision, and (text continued on page 222)Scavenger Hunt (Continued from page 128) the required uplift was soon supplied by a not-so-inscrutable Japanese industrialist named Soichiro Honda (see On the Scene, Playboy, January 1965). Realizing that the modern motorist had very little use for the noisy, heavy and hard to-handle machines of the day--whose exposed engines were guaranteed to leave their telltale grease deposits on trousers and whose temperamental starters often called for the kicks of a karate expert--Honda introduced the motorcycling cognoscenti to a smaller, quieter prototype with such sophisticated features as an enclosed power plant and an electric starter. (His way had been paved to some extent by a flurry of American interest in the handy little Italian motor scooters of Vespa and Lambretta.) Soon a stream of similarly endowed street machines appeared on the American market--ranging from the Japanese-made models of Honda, Suzuki and Yamaha to the new and smaller cycles of American producers such as Harley-Davidson--and by the time the current decade rolled around, a new motor-cycling mania had gripped the land. Professional men began tooling to work atop their trusty two-wheelers without the slightest show of self-consciousness, and students who had previously faced rigid campus auto restrictions came to consider the cycle de rigueur for commuting to class. The number of registered two-wheelers in America varoomed from a modest 200,000 in 1961 to an estimated 2,000,000 in five years.

It was only a matter of time, therefore, before this new breed of cyclist would look beyond such functions of cycling as commuting and shopping to the more recreational possibilites of his off-hours motoring. For the really competitive type, racing was the obvious answer. For those who didn't care to equate their sport with horsepower alone, the weekend pastimes of rallying and economy-run cycling proved as exciting on two wheels as they were on four. And the daredevil drivers could content themselves with an occasional scramble--racing around a closed obstacle course. In short, the possibilities for organized enjoyment on two wheels were limitless.

But what about the opportunities for some good old-fashioned impromptu fun? In the general scurry to form clubs and sponsor a wide spectrum of formalized competitive events, contemporary cyclists have overlooked the pleasurable possibilities of combining their versatile vehicles with the casual format of an afternoon party. And it is with this sort of fun-loving and freewheeling assembly in mind that Playboy offers its latest in a long line of Party Games: the Motor-cycle Scavenger Hunt.

The rules are simple: Like most scavenger hunts, the object of the game is for all contestants to bring back a predetermined assortment of hard-to-come-by items within a prescribed time limit--in this case, three hours. Although any number can play, we've found that the contest stays more congenial if the number is limited to six or eight couples. And while some scavenger-hunt lists contain as many as a dozen items of contraband, we prefer to limit the search to the more sporting number of six. A few days before the running, the host and a tight-lipped confidant or two should compile lists of oddball swag. Since the contestant couples may be carrying out the search in a local are, there should be no duplication of items, thus avoiding arguments should two sets of searchers converge on the same objective. Naturally, the contestants will not be able to tote the spoils around all afternoon, so the host should provide a depot where the cyclists can stockpile their pillage during the hunt. The game can also be made more challenging if a one-through-five-point system is established whereby an easily discovered bit of booty--for example, a restaurant's dinner menu--rates one point, but a German World War One helmet would tally up three or four. Thus, couples can decide whether to hunt only the toughest quarry or to stick to easy pickings. In other words, sending one of your groups' twosomes in search of anything as large as a bass fiddle or as heavy as a Saint Bernard is definitely unfair play.

While the very name scavenger hunt implies that the participants will beg, borrow or commandeer the items on their lists, it's a good idea to request that all cash, except a dime that's to be used only for an emergency phone call, be left back at the host's. In this way, the temptation to hedge a bit on the rules will be removed. However, all pirateers should carry a wallet or purse well stocked with identification, to lessen the chance that a friendly balloon vendor will shy away from lending a dozen of his most colorful specimens to a couple of fast-talking urban marauders. (It's perfectly acceptable to agree to buy the booty after the hunt is over; any pre-deadline loan can later be paid off with a post-deadline purchase.) Players should also carry a notebook to jot down the source and description of each item. Either the host or the losers can undertake the return of the merchandise. We prefer assigning the chore to all defeated duos, thus easing an otherwise tedious task.

Assuming that you and your cyclemates will want to make a day of it, arrange to hold your treasure hunt on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. The former is preferable, since most stores and public buildings are open, thus providing the players with a wider variety of likely spots to search for their booty.

Just before the contestants start their motors, the host should place all the treasure lists in plain envelopes and let a female from each team grab for her team's scrounge sheet. Give everyone a few minutes to go over their lists before lining them up for a 15-yard dash to their cycles in traditional Le Mans style.

A first-rate barbecue bash will cap the day with a festive flourish. The triumphant couple can be presented with an inscribed winner's trophy filled to the brim with a well-chilled brew or bubbly. Should two teams return at the same time with all the proper plunder, a tie is declared and a coin is flipped to see who gets to carry home the loving cup. If no team brings back all six items of booty, but several tie with four or five, the host should use the point system in determining the winner. Once the winner is decided, the formal ceremony of the chugalug is followed by an anything-but-formal grub session as guests and host relax round the barbecue pit while retelling the wacky adventures of their day on wheels.

For a chart listing the salient features of a representative sampling of foreign and domestic motorcycles with engine displacements of 250 cubic centimeters and under, see page 132.