09-14-2018, 09:07 AM

In 1962 my stepdad met my mom. I was five years old and he would put me between him and the gas tank on his Panhead and we'd ride around Jonesboro, AR. No helmets in those days. He was a "hoodlum". They didn't call them bikers back then, at least in Arkansas.



By 1968 we moved to Michigan and got into dirt bikes. I was 11 years old and the oldest child. He bought a early 60's Honda 50, put knobby tires on it and called it a dirt bike. I didn't weigh enough to kick start the bike so he'd start it and put it on the center stand. I also couldn't reach the ground so I'd put it in first, rock back and forth until it came off the stand and ride until I fell down. A Honda 90 followed that, then a Sears 126, a Bridgestone, a Zundapp 250, all were "dirt bikes". By the time I was 16 I was very good at hill climbing, ripping through trails, etc. He bought me a brand new 1973 Yamaha 250 MX. It was awesome! I finally had a real dirt bike and I was fearless. He wanted me to go into motocross racing and I would have been good at it. My senior year I saw a boy get killed during a race when he missed a landing after a big jump and was pummeled by all of the bikes that followed over the jump. I never rode a dirt bike again.

At 18 I got my motorcycle endorsement and switched to the street. Over the years I've had Honda 350, 450, a few 750 Fours, Suzuki 650 Tempter which I rode from CA to MI and back, a Honda V65 Magna (loved that bike!), and now my HD Rocker.

Now I'm 61 and have been riding on the street for 43 years and I think this Rocker is my 14th bike. I've been very fortunate, considering my love for speed, to not have dropped a bike (dirt bikes don't count). I think my early years of riding dirt and hill climbing gave me perfect skills on the street. There have been plenty of close calls but good reflexes and evasive action have always been there. Hopefully I can make it to the end without going down.