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Your Story: How your passion for motorcycles began.
I'm a little on the nostalgic side, so I'd like anyone interested to share the how, what, when, where and who regarding their first encounter with the dreaded motorcycle bug, which only the affected can truly understand. I'll go first. At 12 years old, dad put me on the back of his then new 1966 Ducati 350 Monza and we tore up the town (so it felt to me). The smells, sound, wind, danger...the total package-was thrilling and exhilarating. It hit me like a brick. I was hopelessly and permanently infected. When I dismounted after our ride, the first words out of my mouth were "Dad, when can I get my motorcycle license!?" The answer seemed a lifetime away. "Four more years, kiddo." The next year was a minibike, and now at 63, I still have the disease, and don't want a cure. Dad and I rode Harleys together until he was 77 years old.
In my case, I was strictly prohibited from riding motorcycles growing up back in the 60s and early 70s. Too dangerous said my parents. I was not allowed to have a mini bike but, of course, some of my friends had them. Buddy Eppinger had a Cyclops that looked like a chopper. He let me ride it and I was hooked. I was 10 years old. Later on some of those same friends graduated to dirt bikes and were good enough to let me take a turn riding them. I left home when I turned 18 and by age 19 I bought my first street bike, a slightly used 1975 Yamaha XS650B. Been riding ever since. Mom and Dad tried to reason with me about it but soon gave up. He's been gone 17 years now. She's still living (just talked to her a few minutes ago). I go see her a couple of times a year (it's 450 miles each way) and I nearly always make the trip on my Harley. As Merle Haggard sang, "No one could change my mind but Mama tried." These days she's just happy to see me. I'm sure she says a prayer for my safety every night and I appreciate it but she accepted reality a long time ago. Her firstborn son is a biker and pretty much has been a biker since he was a little boy.
I'm 58 been on motorized 2 wheelers since I was 9 (5hp mini-bike). My Dad rode a 65 Panhead, my Mom rode a 250 Ducati. It was inevitable. At 13 on my Dad's BF GT750 Suzuki 2 stroke, I hit 130mph. Rode dirt bikes until I graduated. Read Easyriders for 28 years until they found plastic pages, hate it now if they even publish it anymore. Purchased my first and only personal metric bike (Yamaha 750 Special) for myself ASA I got out of high school and had it less than a year. It enabled too many stupid acts and I damn near killed myself. Only reason I bought it was money, just didn't have the pockets for a HD. Bought a 1978 80" Lowrider as soon as the 750 sold and been on HD since.
For me it was sorta just bred into me. Never known to not have a scooter around!
I'm nostalgic, so I'll add to the thread. My "problem" started at about 9 or 10 years old. My older step brother had a Honda Maverick 50 that sat in our barn for a few years. He had broken the shift lever off, in a barn yard accident. haha. I had wanted to ride this mini bike for a long time, but was always told "no". Well one day while in the barn by myself, I pulled the Honda into the shop area. I put gas in the tank and kicked it over for what seemed an hour. To my surprise, it started. I was so excited that I started playing with the levers and throttle, but it wasn't moving anywhere. After a few minutes, my memory kicked in and I recalled how my bother would "shift" with his toe, so I looked at the lower left of the engine and saw the broken shift shaft. I went to the tool bench and grabbed a vice grip plier and clamped it onto the remaining shaft. I don't recall whether I pushed down or pulled up on the vice grip, but all of a sudden the Maverick jumped and I was rolling into the barn yard.
After a short time, I figured out the shifting and what the clutch was for. My step brother came home, saw me riding around the barn yard, came out by me and taught me the ropes. It was around 1977-78 and we were hand shifting a little Maverick 50. From that point on, I was hooked. I'm 48 now and have only lived a few years of the time in between, without a bike. I am currently suffering from diabetic retinopathy and glaucoma, but I went out in June and picked up my 1200 Custom. Couldn't let diminishing vision stop me from riding...
I've always like the sound, even as a kid but they were usually all cop bikes. There weren't that many Harley's back then or it didn't seem like it. But the bikes I was around then were my cousins...Indians and BSA but no Harleys.
Then in HS, an article in Post (I think) Magazine came out about the Hells Angels and a few pictures of their bikes. I knew I wanted one. When I went to Nam, I sent off for chopper catalogs and started saving my money to get a bike when I got out of the Marines. And I did.
It cost me $700 and was a '51 panhead with a jockey shift. I didn't have a license, couldn't work a jockey shift and I'd never ridden a bike before anyway. But I knew what I wanted to do to it and I did all that to it too.
Loved mini bikes at 8 or 9 years old then got into dirt bikes at 16 see pic attached, then bought my first Harley at 55 yrs. old. I am finally happy to reach my goal with bikes.
At the age of 10 in 1964, my dad took me for a ride on a step-through Honda 50. That's where it started. I even remember the ride occurred in Alameda, California on Fernside Blvd.
I had ridden junk mini bikes....but one summer I was 12...1972 my brother inlaw and sister cane to visit. He had just bought a Honda street/trail 90. I was mesmerized buy it. He said go on get on it, you can't hurt it.
I rode all afternoon and could not shift out of first gear. The next day he taught me how to shift. After that I was hooked!
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Your Story: How your passion for motorcycles began.
