It was a borrowed 50 cc Puch.
Like this one..
We went out to a local circular football oval and I poured a full tank of pre mix in. After a short briefing (automatic clutch), started the bike and told him to ride around until it ran out of fuel..
After about 90 laps, it stopped and rolled to a halt.
I poured some water and an orange down his pie hole, turned the bike around the opposite way and with another full tank, he did another 90 laps in the opposite direction.
Then came his own bike...
A Suzuki RV 90.
Like this one...
Handled like a bucket of pus, but reliable as a stone axe and he rode it around with the the rich kids on their trials bikes..! One smart arse said his bike sucked and the young bloke told him to ***k off...!
Then the real thing..
One of these.
So it seemed the young bloke wanted to ride bikes..(for some reason..
So it came to pass that on the day he was legally able, I took him out on the back of my Triumph.
I got off and told him to ďpiss off in that direction (pointing North) and ďsee ya later, just donít crash the bastard..Ē.
He came back some time later, happier than a man with two dicks...
He related another incident that most guys wish they had experienced that does not involve bikes...
, and this blew that mťnage a trois to the weeds well and truly.
So here we are after multiple GSXRís, Triumph Daytonas, Suzuki RF900ís and God knows how many others later, to finally arrive with a ďrealĒ bike....
It was always only a matter of time...