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Discussion in 'The Perfect Line and Other Riding Myths' started by Iranian, Jan 10, 2014.
Top Gear Vietnam Special... Thats all it took haha.
Met my wife, she's a rider, she got me into it, 37 years ago!
One of my earliest memories was riding on the tank of my dads GS850, I was probably 3 or 4. Been rideing ever sense.
I had ridden dirt bikes when I was younger, but not too much, and I quit before ever getting into street bikes.
Then fast forward to Afghanistan in '08. I was sitting on the shitter at our combat outpost reading the only magazine available in that particular shitter, a sportbike magazine. I saw the new Ninja 250r and decided when I got back I'd buy one. I got back, my SO at the time talked me out of it, and that was it. Then, about a year later, out of the blue, I got the itch again, and went out and bought a used Ninja 250r.
My bachelor uncle got into scooters in the late 50s, and his first one was a beautiful beige one with gleaming paint. He rode it from Washington DC to Stockbridge Mass to visit us, his older brother's growing family. I remember a perfect summer day, he offered to take my younger brother Frank and me on a ride. My mother brought out her old army helmet. Frank wore the fiberglass liner and climbed on the back, and I wore the iron outer shell and stood behind the handlebars. We were aged 6 and 3. Uncle Richard took us for a ride up Main Street, the wind in my face and the wonderful Vespa noise behind. I was hooked. My uncle rode that Vespa to California and back that summer. Eight years later, after gazing at Sears Roebuck Vespas for years, I bought a used Honda CT200 Trail 90 with my own money. http://www.flickr.com/photos/29821169@N06/11918428173/ Uncle Richard with his last bike http://www.flickr.com/photos/29821169@N06/10565275563/ My first motorbike
Even though I rode friends dirt bikes as a kid I never really considered motorcycles seriously. That is until a buddy bought a Honda Interceptor when we were 18 then promptly low sided it ( tshirt and shorts but did have a helmet). His parents freaked out and forced him to sell it. I scored it cheap put on a new bar and a used tank and rode it for 3 more years before she threw a rod.
We lived next to 15 acres of suburban woods, and one of our neighbors had a Honda C90 trailie. They let me "take it for a spin on the trails" for a bit.
I came back an hour later. Hooked for life.
When I was young I was fascinated by 4 wheeled vehicles. I read Car and Driver and thought that a BMW 2002 was the ultimate. It was economic considerations that directed me to motorcycles at first. In came Cycle magazine and Gordon Jennings, Cook Neilson and Ed Hertfelder. Who could forget "Hub Springs Eternal"?? And Phil Schilling, those guys are probably responsible for the permanent shift to Motorcycles that I experienced.
My father bought a Honda CT90 to use on the farm in the mid '60s. He took a couple of minutes to show me how to start it, how to stop and how to change gear, and I was on my way as an eleven year old kid.
That was my first and last instruction. The School of Hard Knocks was softened by the odd bog and bramble bush.
A couple of weeks after my fifteenth birthday in 1969 I got my provisional licence. A week later I rode 150 meters up the road, did a feet up U-turn, and went back to the testing officer, who then issued my full licence.
I have been riding to get around ever since.
In the late 60's sometime some friends and myself figured how to get a horizontal motro from an old rototiller, 5hp I think, into an old minibike frame that had been sitting in a neighbor's back yard. Patched tubes and off we went. Did I mention no brakes?
We took turns riding that thing all summer and the next year I had saved enough mowing lawns and shoveling driveways to buy a Honda ct70h, the trail 70 with a clutch and four speeds (all straight down). Rode the tires off of that thing and, when I was 10 I wanted a Honda Elsinore. My uncle (who raised me) didn't mind the mini bikes but thought motorcycles were dangerous. When he caught me riding my friend's Suzuki something 250, he made a deal with me. Thinking I'd never be able to do it, he told me that if I raised half the money for a motorcycle he'd pay the other half.
The next year we went to my other uncle's motorcycle shop for an Elsinore but got talked into a Rickman 125 enduro, which was a MUCH cooler bike!
Rode the shit out of that, got my license, got a Honda 350/4, then a sucession of Harleys, then more Hondas, etc. etc.
Early 1993, got on a Honda CH 80 Elite, got the bug for riding. Gave it up for a practical car. Cut to Late 2011, first wife passed away, realized life's too short to not do something you dream of, Got on a 2011 Honda Shadow Aero and haven't looked back.
Now looking towards touring bikes, looking at either Victory Cross Country or Harley Electra Glide.
This is where it all started....
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Vista......an outlaw track (non-AMA) and in Virginia according to Mom. Mid 50s.
Grew up on the track. My Dad flat tracked a Triumph on Saturdays, changed the back tire and hill climbed Sundays then we would pack up the tent, Mom loaded us in the car and we followed Dad back home.
One day I came home from school and the bike was gone. My Mom had convinced him to sell it and settle down. A couple of years later I bought a beat to crap AJS and we rode that thing all over the farm until I was old enough to get my license.
Mom screamed bloody murder when that AJS came home, but after she watched us for a few weeks I think she resigned herself to the fact it was an area of common ground for me and the old man.
There is no better training than an old racer and a cow pasture.
Born into it. Both Mom and Dad rode. Heck Mom and Dad met at Motorcycle club meetings, no not Sons of Anarchy, they were the Road Knights of Philadelphia, mostly Glenside. Mom's Dad, my grandfather is in the motorcycle Hall of Fame (http://www.oriesteele.com is the website I created about him) he rode factory Indian hillclimb and won a ton of races from the teens up into the 30's.
My father worked at a Harley dealership for years. When I was about 5 he brought home a Bronco 50cc minibike. He showed me how to use it and the next day I proceeded to ride it into the side of the house. Mom was less than pleased. The minibike went away for a while, then about a year later it came back. When I grew out of that I got a '69 Aeromacchi Harley that I beat around the woods. Then a 500cc Triumph thumper. My first road bike was a Triumph Bonneville, then I got my first BMW, and then another, and another.
it was 1957, I was 5 years old and my uncle came to visit on his brand new Harley and took me for a ride
Back about 1964 a couple of years before I could get a license my cousin who I was staying with rode me on the back of his Harley from Port Washington WI to Milwaukee, WI. and that was all it took. I knew then that a car was not going to be my form of transportation. Had two motorcycles before I ever bought a car.
I still ride with that cousin who is now in his early 70's and me in early 60's, except not on the back like in 1964. Sometimes it just a simple ride that you give to a relative, neighbor or whoever that sparks that interest that we all know.
So remember, give a kid a ride and you may just ride with that kid 50 years later!
I got a hand me down 1973 XR-75 from my next older brother when I was 6 (1977). It's been down hill ever since.
My oldest brother and neighbors about his age would give me rides around the neighborhood on their tanks when I was 4 or 5. CB360s and such.
Started riding at 4. Left all that, bike included, behind for a girl.
She held the opinion that I should ride her moped in stead of walking to and fro her place.
A revelation. Wind in your hair without peddling. Epiphany.
Started working and saving for a real motorcycle, a Skyhunter with dual seat.
Did a lot of hunting back then.
my car got totaled, I said hey ive always wanted a dirt bike. So I bought a plated Xr600R from Malcolm Smith. I said to my self, how hard could it be? I had them show me how to kick start it. Then I was off, with no issues. It was my sole means of transportation for 2 years. Rode it to work, rain or shine. Rode it off road every weekend with out fail, at least a hundred miles a weekend.