The american indians did not understand the concept of owning land.  You cannot own land any more than you can own the air or the water.  Evian proved them wrong.  Michael Earls wrote about mudding and inspired me to share this little childhood experience, for whatever it might be worth to someone

When I was 15 (and younger), I loved to ride motorcross!  It kept me busy, out of trouble (for the most part) and broke.  I spent all summer working on my bike, riding it, having a ball.  There weren't many places to ride, however.  We had our big back yards but an acre gets pretty small at 50MPH.  So we'd go to any publicly accessible land that we weren't hassled on.  One destination was the train tracks.  There was a cement drain pipe manufacturer near some tracks and they had done us the service of dumping some garbage in the woods near the tracks and burying it with dirt.  In other words, they built us a sweet jump/berm.  They hated us back there!  They came back once to threaten that they'd call the police on us if we came back.  We then checked it out and found that a certain portion of land around railroad tracks belongs to the railroad and they had to be the ones to kick us off!

I had a 1974 Kawasaki KA175 (see pic).  My buddy had a 1990 Kawasaki KDX 200.  I won't post a pic because I don't want to detract from the glory of my former ride.  His ride could beat the hell out of mine but he road like an old lady...

One day, Matt (the friend) and I decided to try a new railroad track route.  We started out only to find the land unpassable.  There were holes and ditches and rocks.  After about twenty minutes, we turned around.  We started heading back where we came and suddenly a pickup truck came rumbling into view.  A fat man got out with a shotgun in hand.  He shot in the air, Boooom!  Then, he pointed it at us and told us to, “get the fuck off my land!”  Remember, we were 15!  We were little, we men, boys really.  We told him we we trying but having a difficult time at it.  He would not let us go back how we came but insisted that we go walk our bikes through the trees.  We eventually got back to the road and went home. 

If you are reading this and thinking, “hell, yeah, you shouldn't be on private property..”  try to remember you wre once young and didn't own anything and not really privy to the notion of trespassing.  You had no car, no money, just time and curiosity.  Don't be a dick!  Leave the gun at home for Pete's sake and speak to the boys!  Go out and tell them, “Boys, this is private property.  I'd appreciate it if you'd go back where you came and not come back on this land with them bikes.”  That is reasonable and effective.  If not, tell the sheriff.  The police love to screw with youngsters! 

The next summer, while riding at our original, county-approved location (we got permission from the county to ride there), we came up to a whole pile of old railroad ties, chunks of concrete and various other garbage dumped on our trail.  We rallied.  Everyone came out one saturday with old clothes and gloves and we cleared in an afternoon what probably took construction equipment the same amount of time to dump.  We spray painted the pile of junk with a message to the aggressors and went on enjoying the outdoors.

I wish that were the end of the story...  but it ain't.  On another ride, momentarily, I saw a shimmer ahead of me.  Then I realized what it must be...  I braked hard!  I was skidding in the dirt and couldn't stop.  I finally dropped the bike to the ground, Matt plowed into the back of me and we both crashed in a flurry of tumbling motorcycles and teenagers.  He was pisssssed off!  yelling at me and asking what my f'ing problem was and why I stopped in the middle of the trail and then I pointed ahead...  Someone had strung tight steel cable between two thick trees, across the trail, at about our neckline.  Someone decided that they were willing to kill one of us to get us off that trail.

Now, what is it that we were hurting?  Why was it so important that we not ride there?  We'll never know.  Something tells me we weren't the only ones using that land for something other than driving trains. 

Bottom line is this.  Land is not to be fenced up and horded.  Nor is it to be destroyed and damaged and dumped on.  No, it is not for motorcycles.  It is for everyone.  It is to be shared not just with your neighbor, but with your neighbor's kids and, yes, your kids.

Think before you say, “get off my lawn!”  and make sure what you are doing is moral.  If you ever think you need to grab a gun to scare some kids away, you need therapy.