As a kid in the 70s, I am sure a lot had to do with seeing the Fonz and the guys on CHIPS riding around looking like badasses. Movies and TV shows likely planted an early seed. My dad never owned a motorcycle so I did not get it from him. At age 12-13, my parents bought me my first motorcycle (Kawasaki KE 100) in either the fall of 1978 or spring of 1979. Been riding ever since.
I had no interest in motorcycles, but my wife was always curious. One day she found a Honda Shadow, black with orange and yellow flames, and fell in love with it. She wanted to buy it immediately and I told her no, not until she at least had her learner's permit.
Two days later she took the test and got her permit, so we bought it. I decided I needed to know how to ride it in case of an emergency, so I got my permit a few days later.
A month later we took Ohio's heavily subsidized class ($25 each at the time). I was still not interested in riding myself until the second day of the class. I was struggling through the part where we weave through cones when, for no reason, Frank Sinatra's "Fly Me To the Moon" popped into my head. I started singing which immediately got me out of my head. I stopped thinking about riding and just did it.
From that moment on, I was obsessed. I rode the wife's bike for a few weeks then came across a Yamaha that fit me perfectly.
The wife still rides, mostly on weekends, but I'm hooked and ride every opportunity I get.
It usually happens like that when one spouse becomes bike-curious.
I don't mind retelling the story. Thinking of it makes me smile every time. In 1961 I was four years old and my mom met my stepdad. He had a Panhead. He said they weren't called bikers back then but "hoodlums". He probably offered me a ride to impress my mom. He put me on the seat in front of him and I hung onto the gas tank as we puttered around Jonesboro, AR. I was smitten!
He married my mom and shortly after that he got deployed to Germany. When we got back to the states we went back to Jonesboro until the lure of auto factory jobs in Michigan sent us north. We eventually ended up in the middle of the state within easy reach of tons and tons of trails. At eleven, my dad put knobby tires on a Honda 90 and I had a dirt bike. I couldn't reach the ground and I didn't weigh enough to jump on the kick starter. So, my dad would start it, put it on the center stand and I'd rock back in forth until I could go. If I fell, we started all over again.
There were always motorcycles around our house. All of my dad's buddies rode bikes. There were Triumph choppers, BSA's, Nortons, etc. I could never get enough. I became very good at motocross, trails and hill climbing. By 1973 I was fearless and my dad would tell people I could climb a tree if I wanted to. He bought me a brand new 1973 Yamaha 250MX. I was untouchable. Nobody could catch me. I weighed less than 100 pounds at that point and I don't know if Yammie even knew I was there.
In 1975 I was at a race and saw a boy get killed and I stopped riding dirt. I was 18 and switched to road bikes thinking they were safer. What did I know? I bought a Honda 350 and off I went. 14 motorcycles later I have my Rocker. I've ridden a lot of friends Harleys and other bikes over the years but always wanted my own.
My dad never got to see this bike but he did get to see pictures of it. Whenever I called him it wouldn't take long and we'd be talking about my bike and motorcycling, etc. He was in the beginnings of Dementia by that point so the conversations were always the same. He would ask me if it was a "74". In his mind that was the biggest motor Harley made. When I told him it was a 96 and that Harley made even bigger engines he was always blown away.
Dad passed in April and in my mind I can see myself pulling into his driveway and revving the motor. He'd come out with a big grin on his face, walk around my bike and marvel at its beauty. He'd ask me "are you sure you can handle that?" and I would assure him that I can. He'd look at all of the detail, ask me how much it cost, etc. and then we'd go inside where I'd hear all of the same old stories.
Yeah, I wish I could do that.
Mom and Dad.
Mom is 77 now and here she is on my little brothers Suzuki.
Yep, Mom's a badass!
Last edited by Sarah93003; 09-17-2017 at 09:24 AM.
Well, it's the same old story. It was the last sixties, early seventies, it what was then farm land north of Detroit. Lots of land and dirt roads to ride on. Lots of small Honda bikes around cheep. By our early teens, a friends dad made a moto cross in an old pasture. We all wanted to be Bob "Hurricane" Hanna. When I was 14 I started riding street bikes. My dad had a 1966 Sears Puch 250 in the barn. He didn't ride it any more, so I just started riding it. We really didn't have what you would call a big police presence, and I road two years without a license or plates. At 16 I bought a 1973 Honda CL350. I got my license and cycle endorsement the day I was 16, and started riding to high school every day. It was a small Catholic school, and I was the boy the girls fathers didn't like because of that bike. I have been riding ever since. I gave up my last dirt bike a few years back. I gave it to my nephew. After 50 dirt bikes were hurting too much the next day.
At 6 years old I got a Honda 50 Mini Trail at Christmas. 50 years later I'm still riding and never stopped.
I was lucky, dad rode and mom supported motor sports and rode with dad. Dad was a SCCA member. So if the family wasn't racing some where on a weekend we were riding. It was mandatory in my family you got your first small bicycle at 4 years old. At 6 years old you got your first real Schwinn bicycle and I lucked out getting the Mini Trail at 6 later that year. So much for the bicycles.
Sarah93003 mention Jonesboro, AR. Memories came flooding back. I had a set of grandparents that lived in Jonesboro. When we went there to visit dad would throw the Mini Trail in the truck of the car and I would run rampit on it in Jonesboro.
I'm very grateful for my parents and grandparents and all of them wanting to expose us kids to everything life had to offer.
Started with a Honda CT 70, when I was 8. It was a hand-me-down from an older cousin. That did it. It was "on" from there and 48 years later, it has never stopped.
When I was a young boy I would see other kids with mini bikes and really wanted one bad. My parents hated motorcycles including mini bikes, the best I could do was a Schwinn Stingray. It wasn't until I reached the age of 19 in 1974 that I purchased my first bike a 175 Kawasaki dirt bike. Had a lot of fun on that bike and finally switched to street bikes. After Honda's and Yamaha's, I finally got my first Harley, a brand new 2010 Wide glide. I bought the first one that hit the floor after model change and rode it 7,000 miles. It just wasn't quite what I wanted so I traded for a new 2010 Ultra Classic when the 2011's were being announced. Since then I have stripped it down like a street glide. I'm 62 now and plan on riding this bike until I downsize. I hope to ride many more years God willing.
When I was a kid my big bro put me on the back of his Suzuki. We rode on some gravel and dirt roads through Fort Ord until we came to a barb wire fence. John knew right where the fence had been previously cut and then re-attached so it could be clandestinely opened and closed.
On the other side of that fence was Laguna Seca raceway. Wow! We were flying and having a blast. But then the Fort Ord MPs got after us. We turned around and made it back outside the fence and I wanted him to hurry away but he waited until the MPs arrived and had me cover his license plate with my hand while he waved at them before taking off.
I unhooked and rehooked that secret break in the fence many times afterward as a free pass to race day. Naughty, I know, but I was a kid. That first time though, the motorcycle became (and still is) a vehicle of adventure in my life.
Thanks for inspiring that memory. It's a good one.
09-16-2017, 11:02 PM
