The unveiling.Īs for the engine, long-time family friend Steve Abbott, a truck mechanic by trade who’s equally adept at major repairs as he is coaxing a stubborn demolition derby car into life, took on that task. The word “backorder” became familiar, as did the art of sandblasting and powder-coating what they had on hand. With shutdowns spanning the globe last year, it seemed other folks were also spending their idle time restoring bikes and similar rigs. In a twist of fate, while a community and parts supply has sprung up over the last three decades for ATCs, the Covid situation created something of a run on parts. If there was ever a good reason to mess with OEM spec, that’s it right there. The sole nod to visible non-originality was re-covering the seat in blue instead of black.
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“The engine was in hard shape, thanks to the 30-year-old gasoline, plus the frame and metal fuel tank weren’t very healthy.” It was important to preserve the latter, he explained, since a replacement plastic or fibreglass tank would kill the vibe of this retro-cool rig. In a moment of lucidity, he called in the cavalry to help with the Honda’s rebuild. Thanks to overbearing helicopter parents and the pandemic, parts were difficult to find. It helps that suburban areas of Newfoundland towns such as Gander are very ATV-friendly. “Remembering those days on the Honda as a kid,” said Pinsent, “It really made me want to provide a similar opportunity for my own son.” As the executive director of a group called Adventure Central Newfoundland, the man knows better than anybody about the importance of having tools to enjoy the great outdoors. Last year, the younger Pinsent brother decided to tackle the task of restoring the little three-wheeler from his youth. Fortunately, the Pinsent patriarch had the foresight to tuck the little three-wheeler away in the attic (“top loft” in rural Newfoundland parlance) of his shed. This explains why the Honda ATC 70 you see on these digital pages wasn’t repaired when it stopped working in 1990 fresh off the manufactured hysteria, parts simply weren’t available. With this cloud over the industry, production of three-wheelers (and most parts for them) ceased in 1987 and never restarted.
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Special interest groups and other nannies of the state were clutching at their pearls, howling that three-wheeled ATVs – like this Honda being enjoyed by the young Pinsent lads – were a danger the like of which the country had never seen, forecasting bloodshed and splintered limbs and cracked skulls if the government didn’t do something right now. To say the family got their money’s worth out of the machine before it stopped running is like saying Mount Vesuvius barely covered Pompeii.Īlert readers with long memories will recall the furor surrounding three-wheeled ATVs back in the late ’80s. More than one tire was rudely ejected from its home on the Honda’s wheels, as were countless wear items. Not that two young boys with the keys to a 70-cc three-wheeler gave a toss about the laws of physics, of course. “It started with doing laps around the house and eventually graduated to dive-bombing that gravel pit across the road.” As young kids are wont to do, they emulated adults by installing a trailer hitch and headed into the Newfoundland woods to cut logs, plopping them on a sled of dubious structural integrity. “My brother and I used the Honda a lot,” said Shannon Pinsent, the younger of the two brothers, laughing warmly at the memory. In no time, a shiny red Honda ATC 70 was squirrelled away in the basement, hidden behind the wood furnace and Black Horse boxes until Christmas morning. Armed with a bit of fiscal security, these hardworking salt-of-the-earth types thought of their two young sons and, as most parents would, decided to do something nice for them. It also provided an opportunity to wheedle a bit of time while navigating the pandemic.įlashback to 1984, when a sound financial decision put a bit of cash back in the pockets of Ma and Pa just before Christmas. For one Newfoundland family, a 35-year-old Honda three-wheeler is acting as a bridge to the past while building the future for a budding young off-roader. Here’s the good news: not all childhood toys are summarily tossed in the bin. That painstakingly curated collection of Marvel comics? Best not mention they were accidentally used to line the kitchen counter while peeling five pounds of root vegetables for Sunday dinner. Hockey cards are donated to the church for a yard sale (a rookie card for Wayne who?) and Nintendo systems are tossed aside with the type of zeal normally reserved for presenters on the Home Shopping Channel.
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