Wildguzzi.com
General Category => General Discussion => Topic started by: oldbike54 on December 12, 2017, 09:08:55 PM
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We had a thread about this some years ago , but apparently it is lost in cyberspace . So.. tell us when you knew that this isn't a choice but a compulsion .
Dusty
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When my brother gave me a ride on his left handed '47 Indian Chief, I was 11.
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Back in 1967 I was 15. My parents went out and l hauled out the Yamaha 90 and rode it around the backyard. The wheel tracks were obvious so I then mowed the lawn. Ha
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My Neighbor Ricky got a brand new Honda 750. That was THE COOLEST thing I had ever seen. Later on another dude moved in the house that had a Harley café bike (what ever those were called) he said "the only bike that ever out ran this was a Moto Guzzi LeMans" I had to have one : )
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I wanted to be Pinky Tuscadero.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/bEpyUm/happy_days_Fonzie_pinky_motocross.jpg) (http://ibb.co/bEpyUm)
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then came bronson man :bow: I'm going to be just like him! :smiley:
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A big kid down the street (he was 11) had motorcycles because his dad was a VW/Yamaha dealer (imagine such a thing in the same showroom!). I can remember very clearly watching him from the school bus window. Soon I'd buddied up and was riding his CT70. A while after that I had a Tecumseh powered mini bike I bought myself, then seeing my enthusiasm my dad bought me a used Mini Enduro at age 10, super discounted by the dealer dad down the street. I rode the wheels off it.
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When my brother gave me a ride on his left handed '47 Indian Chief, I was 11.
Wow we have a similar tale
I was 9...1968...Joey Ruffo lived across the street from our home on suburban Long Island...he had recently returned home from a tour in Vietnam and dug out his 51 Chief and would terrorize the neighborhood...I'd run out whenever I heard him start it up...I'd watch him pull out of their driveway with a big smile...I'd wave...so he asks if I wanted to go for a ride...he puts me up on the tank...shows me where first second and third gear were on the left hand shift knob and tells me when to shift...man that was about as good as it gets. I got many rides on that bike...it felt like a little truck.
Thanks Joey!
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I wanted to be Pinky Tuscadero.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/bEpyUm/happy_days_Fonzie_pinky_motocross.jpg) (http://ibb.co/bEpyUm)
The cover girl for Pepto Bismal . .. :laugh:
When I was about 4 or 5 I got to hug the back of the front seat of a Piper Tomahawk. I remember that the name was cool, and climbing in over the wing, where I watched in fear and fascination as the ground fell away -- just like in Sky King. It was the late 50s. I knew right there that I wanted to fly.
That same summer, the pilot of that PA38 went to work for my dad, who was building a boat in the back yard. This was a step forward for dad, who had built the last one in the livingroom and had to remove the picture window and parts of the wall to get it out. But it was a little boat -- maybe 17'. It became the skiff for the backyard boat, which was 34'. Mom wasn't having it in the house. And I don't blame her. Once that window and wall were gone, the sawdust blew everywhere. But once again, I digress.
The pilot guy was Curtis Jones. I still remember that because he was my personal hero at 4 or 5. He was a charter and ferry pilot when he could get a gig, and a knockabout odd-jobber the rest of the time, which seemed to be most of the time. So when he rattled up to work for my disapproving dad on a war surplus Harley with the drab green paint and the headlight sticking up from the handlebar and the oil smoke everywhere, I knew I also had to ride.
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My story is weird... Big surprise.
As a kid I idolized Evil Kenevil.
But fast forward with heavy parental propaganda and you see a 17 y/o heading off to college but totally into muscle cars with bikes not even on his radar.
Graduate from college, sell your Olds Rally 350 and pick up a really beat up pickup truck. Start working with other gearheads at Chilton (literally half of whom ride) and suddenly you want a bike again.
$300 Suzuki, and suddenly you are hooked.
More than a decade later, you're trying to pay for your second marriage and you try to sell your now only bike (the R1100RSa you bought the day you heard your first child's heartbeat) and it takes only months for your fiance to say "buy a new bike already!"
And in the more than decade and a half since she's recognized the connection between your mental health and your motorcycles.
I don't need to analyze it more... I've been smacked in the face enough to just accept it.
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When I was about 4 or 5 I got to hug the back of the front seat of a Piper Tomahawk. I remember that the name was cool, and climbing in over the wing, where I watched in fear and fascination as the ground fell away -- just like in Sky King. It was the late 50s. I knew right there that I wanted to fly.
I'm confused by that story... The Traumahawk was introduced in the late 70s.
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I'm confused by that story... The Traumahawk was introduced in the late 70s.
You're right, of course. Made me rethink it -- almost 60 years ago. I think my first ride with him was probably in an Apache. My Tomahawk time came after I moved to Alaska.
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I wanted to be Pinky Tuscadero.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/bEpyUm/happy_days_Fonzie_pinky_motocross.jpg) (http://ibb.co/bEpyUm)
I wanted Pinky Tuscadero...
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Probably the first time I saw a motorcycle? I don't remember ever making a conscious decision, it seemed to be a natural progression from a bicycle.
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Someone gave one of the neighborhood kids a Zundapp with a blown engine. We would push the thing up to the top of the hill, just to ride it back down. My mom and dad had a small displacement CZ and a Benelli mini bike, both street legal, which I would "borrow" when dad went off to work. So, I wanted to ride a motorcycle since my tween years. I knew I had to ride after my first life changing accident. Lost a year's work, got a concussion, memory loss, a permanent limp, probably 100 stitches, skin grafts, and my face has been twisted ever since. After being too afraid to ride for about 4 years, I took up flying, to be "safe." I realised that I would never be happy without riding motorcycles. The flying has come and gone a couple times, (got my PPL, but no medical) but I ride on, despite having to slow down due to balance and vision issues, and despite serious injury or death to some good friends on a bike. The biggest difference from my youthful days is that I care not one whit to go fast, compete, etc.. I also enjoy smaller and smaller bikes as I age. I got a 3 wheeler for days I'm a little "off" (not a word Dusty :grin: ). Barring any major disability, I'll be doing this until "the thrill is gone."
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^^^
Who , me ? :grin:
I love these stories , keep 'em coming folks .
Dusty
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I was up the side of a mountain in Snowdonia, overlooking the Nant Frrancon valley when an old British single (Ariel Red Hunter - I think) tore down the valley below on his way to the Mountain Rescue post. The whole picture was so cool. The exhaust reverberated from the valley walls. Totally hooked. Still am.
Nick
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I've known since I was 4 when I received my first motorcycle for Christmas. Sure, it was battery powered with training wheels, but my first real motorcycle nonetheless.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/dNMqQR/young_Luap.jpg) (http://ibb.co/dNMqQR)
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I was a total motor geek at a Very early age-around age 6 or 7 my parents asked me to identify cars they saw on the road.
So I watched the scooters and motorcycles go by, as well. Just seemed natural. Got the first time at the controls at age 8 or 9 , started saving and getting odd jobs until at some point my parents mentioned a bike for sale (Kawasaki C2SS 120) and took me over to get it.
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When an older cousin got the below and allowed me to ride it when I was 10. Took me to age 22 to actually own one. The pictured Honda sits in my garage at this time.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/cgrAs6/DSCN0288.jpg) (http://ibb.co/cgrAs6)
GliderJohn
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Dad was the luckiest man in WWII. When he graduated OCS, the life expectancy of a 2nd Lieutenant was three weeks: One week to ship to Italy, one week to find your unit, one week for a German to shoot the guy in the fold-up hat. Instead, he got posted to the Caribbean as an MP. Luck of the draw. Spent his war riding round in an Indian with a suicide clutch and a corporal in the sidecar, 45 on his hip, busting drunks and keeping peace in brothels. Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Curacao, Aruba. Returned with a thirst for motorcycles and a war bride. Alas, bride and brood trumped bikes.
Dial forward a dozen years. I'm about ten. Dad began buying trashed trail bikes off his work buddies. Maico, Hodaka Pabatco, and such. He and I bonded in the garage. All two-smokes, so that, given enough kicks and a new spark plug they would always start at least somewhat. File the points. Tighten bruised spokes. Trap a bent handlebar under the Rambler tire and grunt it back into shape. Frequently, the shifter splines would have been stripped in a wreck, so that we had to drill a hole thru the shifter & splines, then drop a bolt thru there to make that work. Wee drum brakes never worked worth a crap no matter what. In a week or three, we might get lucky enough to where she'd not just start up but even idle.
Bout then, Mom would come out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel, complaining: "Pete, he's going to wreck that thing", and Dad would reply: "I hope he does." Not being one to disappoint, I'd ride out in the adjacent desert and proceed to.
Truth be told, I was addicted to the garage part of the experience first; the riding second. But when I went to college, my ride was an Allstate 175, made by Puch, sold by Sears, two headers, two cylinders, one spark plug... named her Pooch, cause I didn't want to call her Puke ::
(http://cybermotorcycle.com/archives/troyce/images/Allstate175Black.jpg)
Her life ended shortly after graduation when I hit a dog and cracked the case. Yes, that's right -- a dog screwed the Pooch.
In the sixty years since, I've maybe owned a cage five years.There was a pickup when I was a boatbuilder for picking up materials. There was a Subaru when I was a door to door salesman. There was a Monza briefly; until I gave it away. There was a Greenbrier... but that was for the old lady. Otherwise, always a daily rider.
So I'm gonna say, it was the day Mom came out wringing her hands, the moment Dad replied "I hope he does".
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After developing a great love for bicycles and fooling around with minibikes and go-carts, I met a fellow with a powder blue Motobecane Mobylette moped (like the one pictured below). I rode that bike all around the neighborhood one day and was hooked. It took a while to set up, but I lied about my age, got a union book, and worked shutdowns at a local refinery during Christmas vacation. I earned enough to buy a 1968 Honda CL-70 and gifts for the whole family. It was 1970 and I was fourteen.
(http://image.ibb.co/kcKAQR/77_D8_EBC1_21_A7_4_E1_D_A18_F_9082872_FE7_A4.jpg)
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My bedroom walls were plastered with magazine ads, all brands, but the parents said no, no, no, no, no, no,no....
Bought one anyway, (1970 R5) and stuck it in the garage when my dad was gone. Mom shrieked and demanded to have it removed from the garage. :thewife: :thewife: :thewife: :thewife: :thewife:
So, I pushed it thru the living room, past the bathroom, thru two 90 degree bends in the hallway, and put it............in my bedroom!
Yeah, I'd say that was it...
Dad came down hard, but said I could ride it if I finished high school, two months away. That was about 40 yrs and 300k miles ago... :bike-037:
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My half brother Phil was 9 years older than me, and the old man bought him a shiny new maroon Whizzer when he was 15. I rode on the tank on the way home, and never forgot it.
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For the whole Christmas season, back when the season was only between Thanksgiving and Christmas of course, my Mom would play and sing "The Marvelous Toy" on the piano. Turns out Dad had ordered a Herter's 5hp min-bike for my Christmas present. From that Christmas morning on I was hooked! I can still hear Mom singing:
It went zip when it moved
Bop when it stopped
Whirrr when it stood still
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will
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My story starts a bit later in age than most on here. My lifelong friend Gregg had a Moto Guzzi California II. He would take me for rides when I'd come home on leave from the Marines. About a year or two later, my second and final enlistment came to an end (1988) and I was home for good. Being young (25) and in pretty decent shape, I realized I had to have a bike of my own. By chance, one of the engineers where we both worked, had a Le Mans III for sale. It had been rode hard and put away wet. Long story short, that Le Mans became mine and I've had it ever since. Those initial rides on the Cal II have pretty much hooked me for life.
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it was a natural progression from my primary mode of transport (bicycle) when I was a kid
motorcycle is intermimediate phase for most of the people in my home country (Malaysia) before they eventually settled for the car
I am the odd one that go back to two wheels with combustion engine after driving for 10 years
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The cover girl for Pepto Bismal . .. :laugh:
When I was about 4 or 5 I got to hug the back of the front seat of a Piper Tomahawk. I remember that the name was cool, and climbing in over the wing, where I watched in fear and fascination as the ground fell away -- just like in Sky King. It was the late 50s. I knew right there that I wanted to fly.
That same summer, the pilot of that PA38 went to work for my dad, who was building a boat in the back yard. This was a step forward for dad, who had built the last one in the livingroom and had to remove the picture window and parts of the wall to get it out. But it was a little boat -- maybe 17'. It became the skiff for the backyard boat, which was 34'. Mom wasn't having it in the house. And I don't blame her. Once that window and wall were gone, the sawdust blew everywhere. But once again, I digress.
The pilot guy was Curtis Jones. I still remember that because he was my personal hero at 4 or 5. He was a charter and ferry pilot when he could get a gig, and a knockabout odd-jobber the rest of the time, which seemed to be most of the time. So when he rattled up to work for my disapproving dad on a war surplus Harley with the drab green paint and the headlight sticking up from the handlebar and the oil smoke everywhere, I knew I also had to ride.
Pepto, HA! I wasn't into the pink, but I wanted to be a motorcycle riding, demolition derby driving badass! My grampa would take me to the demolition derby when it hit town and just about every car show in Ohio. He was a car buff, ex-racer, dealership owner, and general tall-tale teller, who was so much fun (when taken with a big grain of salt).
My other grampa was a pilot who flew a little Piper of some sort, and his son, my birth father (a merchant seaman by trade) had an old Mooney he upgraded to fly by wire. I grew up hanging out of a plane, or an old car going at ridiculous speeds, which means I came by my lead foot honestly. :thumb:
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I was 5 or 6 at the time and my dad told me to climb on behind him on my uncle's post-war Harley-something and tore around the neighborhood. When we got back, mom was standing in the driveway giving all three of us the stink eye. I was hooked!
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In '64 or '65 we went to visit an ex next door neighbor that had moved to Lancaster Cal. He and his wife had started a Honda dealership a few years earlier, Larry Lilley Honda. They went on to be one of the largest Honda dealers in the U S . He took us to his dealership and we picked out some demo bikes to ride around in the desert. He had a pre-US z50 and Trail 70's we didn't want to get off of. Oh what a sunday that was! I was Hooked!
:bike-037:
Paul B :boozing:
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About 1986 or so right after finishing college my older brother let me try out his Yamaha 650 Maxim even though I'd never thrown a leg over a motorcycle before. Both of us were stupid for that decision, but I did it and it just felt perfectly intuitive on a brief ride around the neighborhood. Not until more than ten yrs later would I actually take the step to begin riding for real, and take the MSF course and get my first bike an HD 1200XL.
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My cousin let me ride his Honda 500 four a few times and I knew motorcycling was fun. When a guy he worked with did an informal exhibition run up the road next to the Sears parking lot on his '73 H2, I knew I was buying one. To me, it looked like a truck hit it from behind when he took off. I still have my '72 H2, and still love riding it.
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It first hit me as a Junior in HS. The next door neighbor had a HD Pan Head that was rough. One evening I heard it start up in his garage and went over take a look. He offered to take me for a ride. The noise, smells, vibes, and the wind in my face sealed my fate that night. My Dad was less than enthusiastic about my desire to get a bike needless to say.
My first bike was a used BSA 650 Thunderbolt. Wow! That was in 1968, 3 years later....been riding ever since then. Fortunately, I found a wife who has accepted my passion all these years!
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18, working the night shift, co-worker gave me a ride home on his Harley 45 - we took the long way around town, and I knew I had to have one.
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Married a Harley rider in 2012.
I had no wish to ride at that point (I was 51).
I was goofing around on the internet one day (probably sometime around 2014) and suddenly a picture of a California 1400 showed up.
I thought, "I need to ride that"!
I had never had a thought like that regarding motorcycles in my adult life.
I now ride a 2001EV, still lust after the Cali1400s and lust after most other Guzzis.
Just being held back from having the coveted Guzzi collection because of lack funding (see line one above).
Brent
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When an older cousin got the below and allowed me to ride it when I was 10. Took me to age 22 to actually own one. The pictured Honda sits in my garage at this time.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/cgrAs6/DSCN0288.jpg) (http://ibb.co/cgrAs6)
GliderJohn
I'll bet we can make that one run also John .
Dusty
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Truthfully, I do not remember ever not wanting to ride. My motorcycle hating mother was appalled when her still in diapers son stared and pointed at the first motorcycle he ever saw. I'm told I was transfixed at the earliest age by any powered two wheeler. As soon as I could pronounce the word, any time I was asked what I wanted for Christmas, birthday or dinner for that matter, the answer was "motorcycle."
My mother was adamant about me never riding. One day when I was about 9, the neighbor had a visitor with a brand new Suzuki 305 that he had just bought after returning from duty in Viet Nam. My dad, a Marine with 3 tours of 'Nam under his belt, went over and struck up a conversation with the guy, jumped on the bike and took it for a spin around the block. He then motioned for me to get on the back. Done. Hooked. I knew I had to have a bike of my own but knew I would have to wait until I moved out of the same house as my mother. She really was militant about it.
My dad was not big on emotion so I was quite surprised when at age... 13 - I think, he said "Happy birthday son. I give you permission to buy your own motorcycle!" He knew better than to ask me what I wanted. My reply was "Really? What about mom?"
"Don't worry about your mother."
"Can I borrow the lawnmower?"
"Have at it!"
3 months later, the lawnmower was worn out and I had to buy a new one. Mowing up to 7 lawns a day will do that. I would buy wrecks that were in 10 different boxes and put 'em together with the help of my dad's best friend who was a pro flat track racer. He taught my brother and me how to ride. I would push that mower halfway across Jacksonville, NC to do a $4 lawn. Pretty soon I had 7 bikes, all runners. Bought a step thru frame Honda just for my sister. Raced motocross and hare scrambles with my brother. Broke lots of bones but learned not to crash so much. Had a blast.
A few years later, my wife announced that if I bought the Triumph currently residing in my garage, she would divorce me. "OK, sounds good!" She's gone but I still have that bike and it has almost 74k on the clock. I have about 225k miles on various streetbikes and will never be without a motorcycle for the rest of my life. I cannot imagine not wanting to ride. I have to.
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1961 eight years old - typical whitebread suburban neighborhood except for 1 20-ish bad boy who got out of the service and quickly became the one your mother warned you about with the leather and the knucklehead...when he arrived or left the block all kids stopped playing and stared open-mouthed as our own private Marlon Brando roared into a legend in our minds...if memory serves, he was even named "Johnny" but I may be fuzzy on that...that don't-give-a-damn look and mystique made a HUGE impression but by the time I dared to dream big Mr. Honda had begun to build his "nice-people" army and a step-through 90 appeared much more obtainable and somewhere during the filling-a-milk-can with spare change and birthday money my Dad suprised me with a Gilera (Sears Allstate) 106 and my Italian love affair began...fini
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I've told this story before, but.. I was riding my black BMW with black helmet and black leather, and thought I looked bad.. :smiley: Going down a country road, a little tow headed kid..about 3 or 4.. came running out in the road waving his arms frantically. I scanned and saw (probably) his mom laying in the yard, and thought, "Uh oh, maybe she has a medical issue, or something. He's certainly excited. Slid to a stop, and he looked up and said, "Take me for a ride!" He was just making a break for it.
:smiley: Heros are born, not made..
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In 62 we had a neighbor that was showing his boys how to ride a mini bike and drive a go cart both built by him, as I was hanging around with them he ask if I wanted to try, HECK YEA, then in 63 my dad bought a sears allstate scooter to ride back and forth to work and slowly started letting me ride it. I was hooked! But I wanted a motorcycle not a scooter, so 1 day he got mad at me and said if I wanted one I would have to pay for it myself, so after 3 years of paper routes and mowing and racking leaves and other odd jobs I bought my first bike a 69 Honda SL100 brand new $480 dollars out the door and they threw in a helmet. Started when I was 4 I'm 59 now and hope I never lose the thrill!
Bruce
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Years ago in my black leather jacket , hair down to here , aviator goggle days , I was in the process of starting a Triumph in a restaurant parking lot . There was a family exiting a pick up nearby , and they were all dressed in cowboy garb , the real kind , this was Western OK where jeans , boots , and Western shirts were normal and appropriate . Anyway , their 5 year old son was very intent on the old Triumph , and his parents seemed a bit uncomfortable with his fascination re the motorbike and the scruffy guy riding it . Mom says to the boy " you're gonna be a cowboy when you grow up , aren't you" , kid gets a serious look on his face and says "no , I wanna be a motorcycle rider like that guy" :shocked: :laugh:
Have wondered for years what happened to that kid .
Dusty
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When I was 30 and my wife left me.
-AJ
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I wanted to be Pinky Tuscadero.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/bEpyUm/happy_days_Fonzie_pinky_motocross.jpg) (http://ibb.co/bEpyUm)
LoL, I read somewhere that Henry Winker (Fonz) could not even ride, never learned and never tried. Think he admitted it on some talk show.
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LoL, I read somewhere that Henry Winker (Fonz) could not even ride, never learned and never tried. Think he admitted it on some talk show.
Yep . Another piece of trivia , what was his first motorcycle on the show ?
Dusty
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I read that they started him on a Harley but it was too big and heavy for him, so they got the Triumph.
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I read that they started him on a Harley but it was too big and heavy for him, so they got the Triumph.
I've heard another version , the knucklehead he started on was a bit too "outlaw" , the Triumph seemed to be more acceptable for Fonzie's image . Interesting how legends grow and change , considering he never actually rode the bike under power .
Dusty
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My mother hated motorcycles -- When she was about 10, one of her uncles had a sidecar rig, took her for a ride and scared the bejeezus out of her. Motos were not part of the suburban culture where I grew up.
Then, in 1960, when I was 11, Dad took the family for a three-month tour of Europe, driving a brand new VW 1300 picked up at the Southampton dock. Fifteen years after the war, the Western European economies were still not fully recovered. You could still see bomb damage in the big cities and millions of families still used motorcycles, with and without sidecars, for daily transportation. Everywhere we went -- city streets, country roads, villages, autobahns, ferries -- I saw scooters and motorcycles. That, I thought, looked like the fun way to travel, not cooped up in the back seat of a Bug with my kid brother.
A year or two later, a kid up the block acquired a Honda Cub and let me ride it up and down the street. That was that. When I went to Europe on my own in '68 I rented Vespa scoots wherever I could, and as soon as I was out of college and away from parental supervision I bought the 350 Sprint.
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I've heard another version , the knucklehead he started on was a bit too "outlaw" , the Triumph seemed to be more acceptable for Fonzie's image . Interesting how legends grow and change , considering he never actually rode the bike under power .
Film evidence and even Winkler's own account are in conflict. Clips here show that he rode both the Harley and the Triumph a little, although the night scene appears to have a stunt double doing the riding.
https://vimeo.com/50924037
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Film evidence and even Winkler's own account are in conflict. Clips here show that he rode both the Harley and the Triumph a little, although the night scene appears to have a stunt double doing the riding.
https://vimeo.com/50924037
My understanding is that for the opening scene he was pushed up to a sufficient speed to continue his trajectory up the driveway . Once again , this is all simply folk lore , does anyone know for certain? Kind of like the electric start Sportster that Bronson kick started as he pushed the button. Can't have any sissy button starter for a rough tough biker :laugh:
Dusty
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I was about 12, my older brother was working on his friend’s Bonnie. The guy offered to take me on a ride and handed me his helmet. It was a hoot needless to say! He rode it like I wasn’t even on there. By the time we got back home I was hooked. Bicycle wasn’t gonna cut it anymore! I bought a Yamaha 60 off a neighbor kid not long after and rode that thing every day! All those hours in the dirt and trees were invaluable when I got a street bike. Those skills have saved me more than once.
I have only had that feeling like that first ride on the Bonnie one other time. My BMW died and I rode back home on the back of my room mates 1000 LeMans. I had Guzzi shortly thereafter. Still have it!!
Hunter
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Bicycle wasn�t gonna cut it anymore!
Interesting that you felt that way. I never had any conflict between motorcycles and bicycles, and continue to ride both regularly today.
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I must have been about 10, older Sisters boyfriend had an old Matchless twin, he left it in our garage one night while they went out so my older Brother and I wheeled it down the road and took it for a spin.
Later my Brother started work and bought a BSA Bantam, he taught me to ride on that, I can still smell the exhaust on a cold frosty morning.
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Started out as a Mini-bike hooligan which hooked me on my two wheel motorized career. Riding illegally on public roads and evading police pursuit by escaping on hiking paths cemented my love for the adventure to be had on a motorcycle. First real bike was a Yamaha DT 400 that still had the ability to escape down a hiking trail if need be. :cheesy:
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My first solo trip out west on a used 71 Ambassadore, somewhere during an 800 mile day, it hooked me. Nothing like being out on your own with freedom like that. My first bike was a 1957 TR6 but it didn't hook me like that first Ambo!
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I wonder about the story the scooter rider I saw this morning might have-16F, open face helmet with goggles.
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I wonder about the story the scooter rider I saw this morning might have-16F, open face helmet with goggles.
Ahem. Alcohol can do that to you.. <shrug>
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When I graduated from a rigid lawn mower engined contraption to an SL 70 Honda.
Used to get up in the morning at dawn, make some sandwiches, tie them to the seat in a lunch box and fill the tank from Mum's lawn mower fuel, and be gone all day.
On a big day, I had to go to the servo for 40 cents worth of Standard.
The old fella used to fill the tank 'cos he said "if I don't you'll only be back in an hour".
That was 1973, he only just passed away, I still get fuel for the work ute at the same bowser position, (probably a new pump though)...
Priceless memories....
Nothing much has changed I guess.
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We had a thread about this some years ago , but apparently it is lost in cyberspace . So.. tell us when you knew that this isn't a choice but a compulsion .
Dusty
Yes, I remember Dusty. For me, I was young. My Dad's flying buddy and his Norton. My 1st ride I knew!
(http://thumb.ibb.co/cbRgh6/Steve_on_Norton.jpg) (http://ibb.co/cbRgh6)
I'm the one in front and my brother in back. Hey, who gives a crap about the camera, I was riding.
Now add 23yrs or so and look at the hat & jacket
(http://thumb.ibb.co/dyBmFR/Kansas_81.jpg) (http://ibb.co/dyBmFR)
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Your beard's a little short there,Steve. :smiley:
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Your beard's a little short there,Steve. :smiley:
I've always had a full beard till around 02. I had the only red hair in the kids and it was on my chin. My mother's mother's, trait so she liked it, so I grew it. Most of the time long.
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It was the nuns.
Anyone remember "book fairs" ? The gymnasium would have a few tables of books, and you would peruse the covers, and order what you want. This was a Catholic school,circa 1965. I believe I was in 4th grade.
I can't remember the motorcycle on the cover, but it instantly caught my eye, the book was a collection of short stories, and excerpts of longer books about motorcycles. One of them was the chapter from Hunter Thompson's Hell's Angels book. Thompson accompanies the club on a run into the mountains for a party, they use his car to haul beer, and at the end of the night he steals a six pack, (afraid he was going to run out}, and locks himself in the car. I don't know how all that got by the nuns.
There was another story, Italian, about a lone man, so short he could barely straddle the bike, the children mocked him, and one day he rode off into the sunset, never to be seen again.
A couple of years later, Dad took us on a Sunday afternoon to a drag race, at the county fairgrounds. As we strolled through the dirt parking in the hot July sun, and came upon a row of 20 or more motorcycles. I couldn't tell you what kind of bikes they were, but it was an awesome sight. I assume they were Harleys, at the end of the row was a large group of "Hackers", or so said their back patches. I recall some very pretty ladies with them, and two of the largest were battling in the dirt, cursing and wrestling. My brother asked Dad why they were fighting, and he said
"They're not really fighting, it looks like they're having fun." I thought so,too. It got a big laugh from the onlookers.
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(http://thumb.ibb.co/b4Gx76/IMG_0098.jpg) (http://ibb.co/b4Gx76)
When this guy, (Dad), put me on his tank and rode me around. I was about 5.
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(http://blankobtest.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Johnny-Depp-Hunter-Thompson-2.gif)
“Indeed ... but no sand this time, so the lever goes up into fourth, and now there's no sound except wind. Screw
it all the way over, reach through the handlebars to raise the headlight beam, the needle leans down on a hundred, and wind-burned eyeballs strain to see down the centerline, trying to provide a margin for the reflexes.
But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right ... and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it ... howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica ... letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge ... The Edge ... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others -- the living -- are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga
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When I was five my next door neighbor had some sort of motorcycle, All I remember is that it was black with shiny chrome exhausts ( I'm thinking KZ1000 or some other standard late 70's Japanese bike ). I have always been drawn to motorcycles.
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Back in 2009 I learned that the road running past my farm was going to be torn out. On this road were two bridges which were also going to be replaced. The five mile long project was expected to last three years. During this I'd have a 12 mile long detour, every inch of it gravel. My collector car was just going to have to be replaced with something fun I could actually use.
I drove over to the DMV, took my test, passed and headed to the local multi-line bike dealer. I sat on both the KLR650 and the DR650. The DR felt better so I bought it. That's all the research I did on it. No internet, no magazine reviews, no nothing. I didn't even study for the test.
I spent the next couple summers riding through creeks, around machinery and through foot deep sand with my new DR650. The construction workers always waved me though.
Eventually I started touring with it and the rest, as they say, is history. Since '09 I've ridden nearly 100k miles while the collector car has only seen 1k miles.
(http://thumb.ibb.co/jq1tX6/pictures403.jpg) (http://ibb.co/jq1tX6)
(http://thumb.ibb.co/f9ZSQR/pictures404.jpg) (http://ibb.co/f9ZSQR)
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"when I shifted into 3rd I forgot what she said"
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"when I shifted into 3rd I forgot what she said"
And when I shifted into 4th I had forgot her name :laugh:
Dusty
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You watch the white line and try to lean with it ... howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica ...
Loved Pacifica ‘til the tourists discovered it. :undecided:
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I was probably about 8 when Dad got me a Montgomery Wards mini bike, the kind with a lawn mower engine.. rode in our woods.. then I was always begging for a Motorcycle which they said was too dangerous.. but bought me a trail 90 thinking it was a phase I'd grow out of.. NOT!
still have the Honda.
(https://photos.smugmug.com/Guzzi/i-jfz8J32/0/2005ae7f/L/IMG_1138-L.jpg) (https://fotoguzzi.smugmug.com/Guzzi/i-jfz8J32/A)
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Brad those trail 90's are great, Dad bought one and after he realized he wanted something bigger gave it to us kids and bought himself a 175. That trail 90 had a rough life, it's dead and gone.
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My son used a ‘70 Trail 90 all through high school. His alto sax case fit on the rack perfectly...
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It was 1952 and I was a 12 year old newsboy going to the bicycle shop to pay the three dollars owed for a bicycle that I'd bought on a time payment plan. Something in the back of the shop caught my eye and I gave it a closer look. It was a Francis-Barnett or James with a Villiers engine. THE HOOK WAS SET!! All of these years later, the hook is still firmly in place. Happy times!
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the moment my mother said i couldn't have one. i was about 10. as soon as i graduated college and got my first real job, it was off to the motorcycle store. had one constantly until she passed. if she had just let me have one, i probably would not be here today - not from death, but fading interest.
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When I was a kid in the '70s my parents took us up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and we stayed at a motel just off it. The morning we left there were two guys loading up their BMW R-bikes with all their gear. It looked to me like the best thing I had ever seen and I knew I would do it too.
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In 1951, when my older cousin rode up on his new 1951 Whizzer, I knew I was hooked - bad.
Two years later I had my first 2-wheeler, a new 1953 Cushman Eagle. I was 13.
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M0T0Geezer ! still the best handle on WildGuzzi......
I have a cousin-in-law in Longmont. hope to visit again someday and meet you..
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Reading this thread and trying to really come to terms with the "moment" is vague at best. Really, I think it was when my Father took me to the town "junk yard" to get my first bicycle. Don't remember exactly how old I was, but must have been mid-single digits because I couldn't ride a two wheeler yet.
We came home with several discarded bikes and proceeded to make one out of the lot, with a trip to the local OTASCO for some new tubes and other misc. items, like bearings IIRC, to make the bike complete. It honestly looked more like a BMX bike of today way before they were popular. It had mild high rise handlebars, a solo seat (no banana seat and sissy bar like most bikes of the day, mid to late 6's), and a stingray frame with 20" wheels. Once we had it built, I learned to ride it coasting down a big hill next to our hose. At that point I rode it all over the small town of Collinsville, Oklahoma, regularly breaking my parental imposed limits and getting grounded for a short while. I really think that was when my dedication to two wheelers started and hasn't faded since.
I had many bicycles of many types over the next few years, riding them as my means of transportation and sport (basically unorganized 10 speed road racing against friends and anyone else available). During this time I had several forays on mini bikes that I made me want to progress into the motor powered world, but not being street legal were looked on as toys for trails and not transportation, which was my primary desire for the bikes.
Then came sneaking out my Father's 1965 Honda S90 and riding it around the yard. This was my first step into the motorcycle world after years of dreaming/pretending my bicycles were real motorcycles. Soon, at 11 yrs old, I was riding around the neighbor hood and by 12 yrs old that progressed to tagging along with some 14 yrs old neighborhood boys that had real licenses. I rode that little Honda all over SE Tulsa and sometimes quite a ways beyond, including to school everyday, which was about 5 miles from our house. When I turned 14, I got my license and bought a brand new real endure style Kawasaki 125 so I could really ride the trails and street.
I can't imagine not having a motorcycle, as it has been such a huge part of my life since very young. What is different for me from most of my friends over the years is I always looked at motorcycles primarily as a means of transportation and as toys secondarily.
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In the late 1950s, I was just used to seeing two-stroke spindly 50cc mopeds and 125cc bikes with pestering noisy engines. On a gravel road near where we lived in the countryside came a four-stroke NSU, looking and sounding completely different. Just got to have one! I bought one ten years later, when I was 16 and could get my motorcycling licence.
Gave the NSU to my brother after a few years and was bike-less for a long long time. Then started getting interested again almost 20 years ago. Saw and heard a red Jackal, and that did it. Just got to have one! Didn't get a Jackal but got that roadster a few years later.
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At age 65 in 2016 when I saw a 2015 Suzuki TU250X parked at a local gas station. I just had to have one even though I had never driven a motorcycle.
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Loved Pacifica �til the tourists discovered it. :undecided:
That's how I felt about 129 (now known as the 'Dragon') :sad:
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(http://thumb.ibb.co/fFnOLR/image.jpg) (http://ibb.co/fFnOLR)
Standing on the start finish line as a photographer with 10 secs to start for the 1980 Loudon National...about 30 Superbikes in the first wave, and another 20 in the next...the ground quaked
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Late developer me
In my forties sat on the back of my mates Hayabusa at a hundred plus a lot MPH in a borrowed set of leathers thinking
a) I like this
b) I need to be on the front to make sure he doesn't kill me :thumb:
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The moment of desire was born of another's sadness and grief. About 1971, Mom's cousin visited hearing news of a more distant cousin's passing. The untimely death occurred in the heat of competitive flat track racing. I recall a tinge of sadness for this unfamiliar and distant relative, really a stranger to me. The deceaseds' family wanted to give up motorcycles by giving it all away. Though normally a quiet 10 year old, I forgot the collective grief of the moment and felt only a jolt of electrified thrill as I seized the opportunity and expressed my desire for motorcycles, racing, and all that goes with it. Quickly I was shut down by my mother, who shot me 'the look' ... Never got close to a motorcycle as a youth... but the die was cast.
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I do not really have a great story myself, once I got on a bike in 1987 on Long Beach Island, NJ, I just loved it and have not stopped riding since. However, I have greatly enjoyed reading all the stories posted here. So along this topic, last night I dropped my MGX off for the initial service with Tom http://www.tomsitaliantuneandservice.com/index.html and there in the shop are two other Guzzi bikes. One belongs to a member here I do not know, and the other up on the rack he has owned since new (I believe he actually owned both bikes, but has sold the one). But he was a good story teller when describing both these Guzzi's history and his passion for riding, and really anything with internal combustion. It made for a nice hour in his garage last night.
Will post the pictures from a different device as my work server blocks uploading here.
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I do not really have a great story myself, once I got on a bike in 1987 on Long Beach Island, NJ, I just loved it and have not stopped riding since. However, I have greatly enjoyed reading all the stories posted here. So along this topic, last night I dropped my MGX off for the initial service with Tom http://www.tomsitaliantuneandservice.com/index.html and there in the shop are two other Guzzi bikes. One belongs to a member here I do not know, and the other up on the rack he has owned since new (I believe he actually owned both bikes, but has sold the one). But he was a good story teller when describing both these Guzzi's history and his passion for riding, and really anything with internal combustion. It made for a nice hour in his garage last night.
Will post the pictures from a different device as my work server blocks uploading here.
Here are the pictures(https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20171220/e397bad32f4d3e887c56baa4d55fc6fd.jpg)(https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20171220/420cda6c97bf17737f8a7ed7cad50e68.jpg)
Sent from my XT1254 using Tapatalk
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Well, my first time on a bike... I was too young to remember. Mom has a photo of me on the tank of my Dad's Honda CB450... I was one year old. First memory of riding a bike would be when I was 3-4 and dad took me for a ride around the yard on that old Honda. I don't think I've had a bigger smile on my face since that day. Sadly, the next winter mice got into it and chewed the wiring. She ain't ran in 38 years... but I still go up in the barn and kick it over a couple times a year. Well, Dad is now 74, and is starting to divest himself of things he won't get around to doing, and that old Honda is headed to my garage. Needs a full restoration and re-wire, but I think I know enough about them to do it all. :grin:
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Well, Dad is now 74, and is starting to divest himself of things he won't get around to doing, and that old Honda is headed to my garage.
That CB450 should be regarded as a collectible classic. As far as I know it was the first Japanese DOHC engine, and it (uniquely) possessed torsion-bar valve springs. It was redlined at 9000 rpm when Triumphs redlined at 7000 (if I remember correctly). I rode a CB450 in 1972 and it had far more power than anything I'd ridden before that.
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So along this topic, last night I dropped my MGX off for the initial service with Tom http://www.tomsitaliantuneandservice.com/index.html and there in the shop are two other Guzzi bikes. .
:1: I took Anni to him last Wednesday, and found him to be a very nice guy full of great Info!
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Bump , just because . Some of our new members might have a story to tell . Go .
Dusty
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I was a young man pumping gas at an all night hole in the wall in the late 60's, early 70's.
I-80 wasn't complete and we were located between slabs that were done.
Man pulls in early in the morning on a Guzzi with Texas plates headed north to somewhere in New England.
I knew then.
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Like everyone here I can recall the first time I fell aboard a minibike, for me it was 1972.
A rigid framed death trap with a lawnmower engine and thimble sizes brakes. There was an indelible feeling that was implanted when I felt the remote “power” unit under the jam tin sized fuel tank, respond to my whims regarding bending the fabric of spacetime, in my quest to accelerate to 20 mph...
The thing would go into a tank slapper if you looked at it the wrong way, and my attempts to pull wheelies resulted in long term damage to my rotator cuffs..
It had no tread and in the mud the tyres got as greasy as a butcher’s dick, resulting in more high sides than Casey Stoner and Kevin Schwartz combined...but it was fun.
Given that my Mum and Dad had already invested some money in getting me to the age of 14, he felt it prudent that if I was going to ride bikes (which he made sure was a fait accompli) then a “real bike” was just what the Doctor ordered.
One day he was over at the crash pit where we used to go and he spied a young bloke on a blue and gold weapon that seemed like just the thing.
“What’s that bike called Peter..”
“Oh, that’s an SL 70 Dad, but they’re really dear...”
“Hmmmmm...” Says Dad packing his pipe.
In a roundabout way, one duly appeared with a list of demands regarding cleaning and maintenance that made the Magna Carta look insignificant..
But I obeyed out of fear, until 3 days had passed and then the habit was formed.
(https://i.ibb.co/cDT7hG0/BFF50379-2-E43-49-EE-B16-E-5906487-F9642.png) (https://ibb.co/cDT7hG0)
48 years later, the bikes are bigger, trips are bigger, costs are bigger, but the feeling is no different.
The story has changed, but the song remains the same...
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July 1974(ish)..... Family get together, my great uncle comes that morning with his kids and a Honda trail 50 in his trunk. He pulls it out, folds the handlebars up, pull starts it and the fun commences, for ALL but me. My mother and grandmother forbid it. Fast forward to dinner. Everyone is digging into dessert, I quietly leave the table, easy to do with a table full of NY Italians and Irish full of food, beer and vino. I quietly wheel the bike out to the back field, pull start, hop on and ride.......... INSTANT addiction, and I can still remember the moment and feeling to this day..... Saved my $$ and bought a minibike (with lawnmower motor) then a Rupp Trail something and a string of bikes kept secretly at friends homes until I was in college and accidentally slipped to my mom that I had a motorcycle. "YOU BOUGHT A MOTORCYCLE AT COLLEGE???" No ma, I've had this one since 11th grade..... I brought it to college at the beginning of the semester.....
Life long unapologetic addiction..... Enhanced and completed with my discovery of Moto Guzzi.... Started on a Griso, then added a few others, now at the pinnacle with my recent acquisition of a Convert.....
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1967, I was going on seven years old and my older brother and his friends were all getting their draft notices for the vietnam war. Long story short, my dad ended up with all of their motorcycles in his spare garage. coolest things I had ever seen.
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:thumb:
Keep the stories coming guys , thanks .
Dusty
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:thumb: Thanks guys , keep the stories coming .
Dusty
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(https://i.ibb.co/wrdfSZQ/56-A2-BB0-F-6792-493-B-AC8-C-C0-FF8277764-F.png) (https://ibb.co/wrdfSZQ)
When I was 14 years old I went to a drive-in picture show and watched BORN LOSERS, featuring a new actor who’s name was Tom Laughlin or better known as Billy Jack. I was hooked and got my first bike shortly after, a 1964 or65 Honda CL65. I had a local Electrican bend me a piece of Conduit that would come up behind me like the choppers did. I constructed a tall sissy bar from an old TV Antenna which I attached to the frame with hose clamps. I terrorized the neighborhood with that bike. Boy what would I give for a picture of that machine.
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My neighbor, Rick Khoneman got a brand new Honda 750 four In black with gold trim. I must have been pushing ohhhhhhhhh, 9 years old. I was hooked.
That and the time Jethro Bodine ran the Norton through the mansion.
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My neighbor, Rick Khoneman got a brand new Honda 750 four In black with gold trim. I must have been pushing ohhhhhhhhh, 9 years old. I was hooked.
That and the time Jethro Bodine ran the Norton through the mansion.
And Ellie Mae on the Triumph :grin:
Dusty
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And Ellie Mae on the Triumph :grin:
Dusty
Or when she slid down the bannister. Oh, that didn't make me think motorsickles :wink:
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Or when she slid down the bannister. Oh, that didn't make me think motorsickles :wink:
:laugh:
Dusty
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1954 - 1955. I was around 11 to 12 years old. An older neighbor, Donny Mann, who seemed to me at the time like he was 14 going on 40, took me for a lengthy ride on his brand new Harley Davidson 125 Hummer. First real bike I'd been on. Got home waay late, and Mom let me know it! From there it was having a slightly older best friend who first owned a Whizzer, then went thru a couple of Motobecanes (?) followed by an Allstate (Vespa) then a Mustang scooter with Berman 4 speed gear box, rear swingarm, and wire wheels.
From that beginning, I was hooked. Next stop, the 1963 BSA Spitfire Scrambler.
Bob
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My dad took me to the flat track races in Houston about 1971. Nortons, Harleys & BSAs laid over in the corners. I thought it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. I had to do it.
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1970. I was 7. Older neighbor rode by our house on a Briggs and Stratton powered mini bike. I can still hear the ringing sound. My world shifted on its access even though I never rode it. Turned 14 and got a job washing dishes, then took my summer’s earnings to the Honda dealer and bought a brand new XL 125s. It didn’t seem strange to me that they would sell a bike to a 14 year old with no parent around. A few bikes later I went to college and bought a brand new ‘81 Honda CB750F with my first student loan check. My father died suddenly when I was 22 so I took a break from law school and rode cross country and back on a used BMW 1000. I told myself it was to clear my head, but honestly I did it because I had no choice and his fear for my safety was no longer a factor. I never chose to love motorcycles. I just do.
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i honestly do not recall but i have 2 brief vignettes for y'all that sorta dial it in.
1) i was a little kid and for my birthday one year....around age 4... i got a bicycle with training wheels on it. well the training wheels were a humiliation and i wanted them off as soon as possible. the way the wheels worked was that they were each set up off the ground by about an inch or so. its enough so that if you are going in a straight line you get a sense of the balance you need and if you falter you are on the trainers again. it didn't take long to figure that out and it didn't take long to get an understanding of what balance really meant. i practiced and practiced and i got pretty good at going in a straight line and then making turns that pivoted with the aid of a trainer on one side or the other. that got boring and i knew i was ready to get the training wheels off. finally one sunny, summer, saturday, morning my dad unbolted the training wheels, gave me a push and off i went down the block in our 50's, suburban, long island, shangri-la. he told me not go far and i went out about a hundred feet and took a slow clumsy sorta u-turn and came back. big smile on my face. my dad smiled too. success. i then immediately took off and headed down the block. i didn't look back. i just kept peddling harder and harder. when i got to the corner i turned the bike and leaned a bit and i felt the most extraordinary sensation. it was what i imagined flying must be like. that was it. i was hooked.
2) i was living in amsterdam for a period of time in the mid-nineties and i went to one of the teo lamers guzzi open houses. on my way there i was riding my 850 t-3 california with the staintune exhaust (sweet sound) along a frontage road next to the freeway. a little kid showed up on the sidewalk, a boy of about 4 or so. as i got closer he started jumping up and down in pure glee. i passed by him and watched in the rear view mirror as he chased after the bike hooting and hollering. that kid is definitely one of those who will remember when he wanted to ride a motorcycle.
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Up until 2004, in Italy if you were over 18yrs old, you could ride a small displacement scooter (50cc) with no license (I had serious economic problems, so no license for me until then...).
Then, they announced from the next year you would be in need of a license...
For me it was natural: f#ck the car license, I wanna ride a real bike!
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For me there wasn't a particular moment but a few experiences were key.
One: About 1970, my older brother ring-dinged home on a brand new red and chromed Bridgestone 175 and took me, a twelve year old, for a ride -woohoo!!!. "Keep your shoulders lined up with mine", he said. What a thrill leaning into corners!
Two: A year later my brother helped me buy a used but pristine red and silver gray 1970 Honda Z50 for $200 which when I wasn't riding, he stored in his apartment's spare bedroom. I had to travel by bus to get to my bike, roll it down a half flight of stairs (Thankfully he lived on the first floor.) and then I could ride it across the parking lot into the woods behind his building. It was pure heaven putt-putting up and down hills,sliding the rear tire on sandy flats, and splashing full speed(!) through mud puddles. Sold it three years later - for $200.
Three: A few summers later, my bro advised that if I was going to buy that gold '73 RD200, I had to convince mom that safety and economy were priorities. I did and my blue haze, plug fouling, yellow tinted bubble visor, 5,000 RPM-and-up-power-band street riding adventures began!
Brothers, a bad influence... :laugh:
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Growing up my parents were certain that motorcycles were death on two wheels. So as long as I was under their roof no motorcycles. Which didn’t bother me too much bc I much preferred four wheel forms of transportation. However, around the time I was 20 (‘96) I decided to take a free MSC that the state offered in order to get my motorcycle endorsement. I was hooked. My 6’2” self looked like an ape on a tricycle on that poor Rebel 250. But that was it. I bought a Honda CL360 after that, then a Honda 400 Hawk.
Then I started drinking. I’ve always remembered the stat in that motorcycle class that half of all motorcycle fatalities had alcohol in their system. And half of those were under the legal limit. Knowing that fast reactions can be the difference between living and dying, I sold the bike when I moved back down south and didn’t buy another.
Fast forward to winter of 2012. After receiving a free night’s stay at the county lodgings, I thought long and hard about what I wanted the second half of my life to be like. I saw a future with alcohol where I was living at home again with my parents, having to ride a 49cc scooter or bicycle to work whatever menial job would employ me. Or stop drinking and try to salvage what I could. With encouragement from my baby sis I went to AA. A lot!
One of the side effects of stopping my alcohol habit was more disposable income! After a couple of years of sobriety I bought a ’97 Suzuki Marauder, reasoning that I should give cruisers a try bc they’re slower. That bike was fun. A friend started planning a bike road trip out to Sturgis, and then glacier national park. That overachieving 800 was stressed out on the interstates. I had rode it on a road trip to San Antonio, and my butt didn’t recover for weeks! So I sold it and bought a Vulcan 1500. We made the trip just fine, even tho the radiator started leaking on the way back. I’d just added water at gas stops on the way back. The clutch started slipping the last 1,000 miles too, I babied it and got the best fuel mileage of the trip. We had such a good time we did it again the next year. Sturgis, Chief Joseph, Beartooth, Yellowstone, Independence Pass.
When I was getting remarried I thought I’d have to sell the bike. However, my fiancée was/is great with money. She talked to me and could tell having a bike was important to me. So I didn’t sell it. I did however trade it for a 82 KZ1100. That was a terrible idea. Never not doing research before a decision like that again. I bought a 92 Yamaha Venture 1300 (the V-4) after that. After a driver took that out I bought the ‘03 Victory V92c that I have. I practically stole the bike. It’s really nice. However, I missed proper footpegs and while it handle great, the ground clearance is far exceeded by the bikes abilities. So I started looking for a standard naked bike as second bike. Which brings me to my Quota! I love this bike! It handles great, has plenty of power, and is simple enough to give me wrenching maintenance time. The Vic is stone solid. Kinda like owning a Toyota Camry as far as mechanical issues goes. I missed having something to tinker with. The Quota scratches that itch well! Lol
Anyway, sorry for the novel. To sum up all my ramblings it wasn’t so much a single moment as the sum of many that have made me love our two wheeled forms of transportation.
Robert
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I started on two wheeled machines at an early age. I was building my own bicycles from town dump parts by age 8, with Dad's help. We had a substantial bicycle junkyard behind the garage. Dad passed when I was 11, and I stopped listening to grownups. I got a beat minibike rolling chassis at age 13 and found a 4hp Briggs for it. I put a thin head gasket on it, a Mercury outboard carburetor, a straight pipe, a light flywheel from a vertical shaft Briggs, and ran it on model airplane fuel. Went like hell til it put the rod through the block. Then at around age 14 I rode an older buds Honda 50. Three speed transmission, automatic clutch, a genuine motorcycle! That was it, I was really hooked! At age 15 I got a Honda 90. Mom said only one of us could live at home. The Honda went to the next door neighbor's garage. Got my first Bonneville in 1973 and have bought and sold many since then, I still have my first one. First Guzzi in 1981.
Larry
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Growing up my parents were certain that motorcycles were death on two wheels. So as long as I was under their roof no motorcycles. Which didn’t bother me too much bc I much preferred four wheel forms of transportation. However, around the time I was 20 (‘96) I decided to take a free MSC that the state offered in order to get my motorcycle endorsement. I was hooked. My 6’2” self looked like an ape on a tricycle on that poor Rebel 250. But that was it. I bought a Honda CL360 after that, then a Honda 400 Hawk.
Then I started drinking. I’ve always remembered the stat in that motorcycle class that half of all motorcycle fatalities had alcohol in their system. And half of those were under the legal limit. Knowing that fast reactions can be the difference between living and dying, I sold the bike when I moved back down south and didn’t buy another.
Fast forward to winter of 2012. After receiving a free night’s stay at the county lodgings, I thought long and hard about what I wanted the second half of my life to be like. I saw a future with alcohol where I was living at home again with my parents, having to ride a 49cc scooter or bicycle to work whatever menial job would employ me. Or stop drinking and try to salvage what I could. With encouragement from my baby sis I went to AA. A lot!
One of the side effects of stopping my alcohol habit was more disposable income! After a couple of years of sobriety I bought a ’97 Suzuki Marauder, reasoning that I should give cruisers a try bc they’re slower. That bike was fun. A friend started planning a bike road trip out to Sturgis, and then glacier national park. That overachieving 800 was stressed out on the interstates. I had rode it on a road trip to San Antonio, and my butt didn’t recover for weeks! So I sold it and bought a Vulcan 1500. We made the trip just fine, even tho the radiator started leaking on the way back. I’d just added water at gas stops on the way back. The clutch started slipping the last 1,000 miles too, I babied it and got the best fuel mileage of the trip. We had such a good time we did it again the next year. Sturgis, Chief Joseph, Beartooth, Yellowstone, Independence Pass.
When I was getting remarried I thought I’d have to sell the bike. However, my fiancée was/is great with money. She talked to me and could tell having a bike was important to me. So I didn’t sell it. I did however trade it for a 82 KZ1100. That was a terrible idea. Never not doing research before a decision like that again. I bought a 92 Yamaha Venture 1300 (the V-4) after that. After a driver took that out I bought the ‘03 Victory V92c that I have. I practically stole the bike. It’s really nice. However, I missed proper footpegs and while it handle great, the ground clearance is far exceeded by the bikes abilities. So I started looking for a standard naked bike as second bike. Which brings me to my Quota! I love this bike! It handles great, has plenty of power, and is simple enough to give me wrenching maintenance time. The Vic is stone solid. Kinda like owning a Toyota Camry as far as mechanical issues goes. I missed having something to tinker with. The Quota scratches that itch well! Lol
Anyway, sorry for the novel. To sum up all my ramblings it wasn’t so much a single moment as the sum of many that have made me love our two wheeled forms of transportation.
Robert
Hats off to you Robert for the life changing decision to take back control of your life👍
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Next door neighbor had a Honda 50 step-through when I was in 1st grade. He was the truck mechanic for the Dr Pepper bottling plant. His daughter Kathy-Lynn let me ride on the back, endlessly up and down the gravel alley behind the nuns' house.
F84 Thinderjets with their colorful indian head dress insignia from OKC 120 miles away, made low passes on the knife edge to look at us while I squinted up sideways into the sun in some kind of idyll half dream state with her dirty tom-boy hair blowing in my face.
I can still smell her and feel the phantom muffler burn on my calf.
I was a big kid and when I was in 2nd grade, Norman let me ride the Hodaka 100 Super Rat. It was so powerful, I was afraid to get it out of first gear.
Before I could write cursive, I was hooked on bikes, and Tomboy girls...
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great, colorful stories. mine is kind of ho-hum. mom said no. as soon as i got out of college with a paying job, went to the kawisaki dealer. low monthly payments and rode home on a new 81 250csr. never been without one since. i bet mom wished she had let me have that mini-bike i wanted.
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Don't even remember my age,but very young.We lived next to this old Italian couple.The old man had a Vespa scooter.One day with my moms permission he took me for a ride on the Vespa.We maybe went about a mile to the local bar.He had a drink and we went back home. I guess he started me out on a few likes that day.
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(https://i.ibb.co/Yj1qpRN/6c0c68178a04b203fb0dff738f84bb82.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Yj1qpRN)
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Rode several friends bikes while at the University, an old 250 with all kinds of defects we'd take offroad and bounce around on and traded amongst friends, and a Honda 1000 VFR Interceptor. That bike and experience was exhilarating...1 year later after graduation, I bought my first bike, a Yamaha Vision 550 (shaft drive). Not quite the same power as the Interceptor, but the same feeling of freedom!
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I think I was finished with 9th or 10th grade. I went to my friend's orchard in Lake Chelan. One of the kids who lived at the orchard had a Honda SL70. He let me and my brother ride it on the dirt roads through the orchard. I bought my first moto in 1977, a '66 Suzuki 150 twin.
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When, about his age:
(https://i.ibb.co/Kh9D9DC/851-F80-DB-2-D50-46-D1-B103-E63-D9-B875794.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Kh9D9DC)
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My earliest retained memory is of a motorcycle. When I was 4 years old (1958) my parents and I went to a local parade downtown on the main drag. Like most of us in the 50s and 60s parades were a big deal and they always had huge turnouts. I believe it was the 4th of July parade. We were walking past the local Harley dealer on the way to our car. The HD dealer was in a small building on a side street. I remember seeing a guy jumping up and down on a motorcycle. He seemed smaller than the bike. He kept jumping up and down. I had no idea what he was doing. All of a sudden one of his jumps started it up and I was so impressed! I was absolutely amazed and was fascinated by motorcycles ever since.
(https://i.postimg.cc/c4xQ4R5c/6ebb172d1134abc81af58c1d2fd414e9.png) (https://postimages.org/)
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It was when dad came home on a Moto Guzzi Zigolo. The big old AJS that he'd had for years had never tempted me (it would now).
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My earliest retained memory is of a motorcycle. When I was 4 years old (1958) my parents and I went to a local parade downtown on the main drag. Like most of us in the 50s and 60s parades were a big deal and they always had huge turnouts. I believe it was the 4th of July parade. We were walking past the local Harley dealer on the way to our car. The HD dealer was in a small building on a side street. I remember seeing a guy jumping up and down on a motorcycle. He seemed smaller than the bike. He kept jumping up and down. I had no idea what he was doing. All of a sudden one of his jumps started it up and I was so impressed! I was absolutely amazed and was fascinated by motorcycles ever since.
(https://i.postimg.cc/c4xQ4R5c/6ebb172d1134abc81af58c1d2fd414e9.png) (https://postimages.org/)
When I first got to ride a bigger bike my buddy and I would go to Loudon for the races. When they were finished for the day and everyone was leaving we metric rider would look back and see all the Harley guys jumping up and down. It was kind of funny to be truthful.
kk
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When I was ten years old a young man who lived in our neighborhood brought home a new triumph. Dont remember the model, been too many years ago. But I do remember one warm summer evening he was giving all the kids on the block a ride on his new machine. We lined up to get our turn. When my time came I was totally enthralled with the whole experience. From that day forward I made it a goal to learn about bikes and someday have my own. By the time i was a senior in high school by bedroom walls were covered with bike related stuff.Bought my first bike when I turned nineteen. A Kawasaki 125 dirt bike. From that day forward though all the twists and turns life takes I have always had at least one bike.
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When I was a little baby...
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I was 9 years old (1969) and dad bought me a banaza mini bike. I rode it all over the back yard and neighboring orchard in the Bay Area, Ca.
At 10 (1970) my mom loaded it up in the car to visit grandma and pa in Alba Missouri, Jasper county. Back then it was all gravel roads. Grandpa told me if I see a car pull over and let them go buy. After days of traveling all the gravel roads around Alba I knew I was a long distance iron butt rider. Been riding ever since, never stopped.
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My brother in law is from ALBA and it still has dirt roads.
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I was in Jasper today :thumb:
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I was still a kid in the early 70's. Went and saw a movie called "Hot Chrome and Leather" I believe it was called. Hooked right then and there. BK
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Growing up on L.I. N.Y. & growing up in the sporty car world Dad would take to his work on Sat. North Country Motors in Manhasset. Real close to Ghost Cycles. I would be dropped off there for a few hours to hang & watch/listen. Just seeing all those bitchin cycles is what did me in!!. :grin:
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Like many here it was a progression, Growing up in the concrete jungle 70s in NY
inspired by Evil Kenievel we built bicycles into choppers and rode them over ramps,
sometimes crashing them and then rebuilding them with whatever parts we could find.
Then it was onto crude mini bikes with lawn mower Briggs and Stratton motors
which we modified to go faster in order to try and outrun the police who would confiscate them
if we were caught. Later as a teenager my friend said his brother ( who would later on become the most hated man in America) had a 73 Sportster for sale. I had to have it and scraped up the money. This bike not only started
a lifelong love of motorcycling but gave me the skill to wrench on my own motorcycles.
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When I was maybe 4 or 5 the neighbor's boyfriend rolled in one sunny summer day on a brand new Victor 441 Special. I couldn't stop staring at it and sat outside for an hour or more waiting for him to leave so I could hear it again. Hooked.
Maybe a couple years later my father comes home one Saturday with a CL-77 Scrambler. Hook, line and sinker!
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I knew I had to ride a motorcycle the first time my brother and I watched the local club put on their annual hillclimb. The sound of the old British engines and the smell of Castrol R was like an alluring magic potion. As soon as I could I joined the local club and rode trials and enduros on a long series of Bultacos, a Honda, a Yamaha, and some Kawasakis. . That all began 50 years ago. When my children were little, I used to take them for a walk on Saturday mornings to give their mother a chance for a sleep-in. There was a fellow who rode a very fast, very red Moto Guzzi on the roads early in the morning before the police were out patrolling. We could hear him coming a mile away and he swept past us on his bright red bike dressed in black leathers and making the sweetest exhaust sound imaginable from that bike. We usually encountered him on a long sweeping corner, and I'm sure he was dragging his pegs. I knew then that when my competition days were over, or almost over, that I would have to have a Moto Guzzi. I am now the proud owner of a 2012 Stelvio, bought new, and showing over 80,000 kilometres. My wife and I have had the saddles "customized" and she is as eager to ride on it as I am. Thats my story, for what its worth.