I like to hear stories of how people got started riding, especially if there is a positive spin to it. I lived as a single guy back in the late 90s, little town of 3,000 people I had moved into, knew no one in town. I worked in a town 23 miles away and rode everyday from early March to the end of November. I was on my bike practically every day of the week. Spent a lot time working on my bikes. Along that time I picked up a 80s Yamaha 250 my uncle had thrown out. So it sat in my garage near the door. One day I'm working on my BMW and two teen boys were hanging out at the end of the driveway, and eventually came up to ask if the old Yammy was for sale, what did I want for it. "Well it doesn't run now but it has compression, some spokes missing, the oil pump was free but the carb was all gummed up, some other issues". One kid said he knew engines, could get it running. I asked him a few engine repair questions and he seemed tuned into it. I said, "take it home, IF you get it running, stop by and we'll work out a deal." He almost grabbed the bike and started down the driveway before i quit. Little over a week later he's at the back door, bike is on the driveway. I went out with him, one kick and it was idling steadily, revved up fine. He's grinning nervously as I look it over. He asks, "so can we make a deal?" How much you got I ask? He digs in his pocket and produces $10. DEAL, done. He was grinning so much it hurt. Off he went riding a 2-stroke plume. Years later I met a lady from the town through another friend. She said, "oh, you're that guy with the motorcycles! Kid next door has a bike he got from you. Rides it all the time, or is working on it all the time." Great $10 value.
I grew up in the inner city, single mom parent and a stern “NO MOTORCYCLE WHILE YOU’RE LIVING IN MY HOME” policy. Her brother is a lover and (former) racer of vintage Triumph and Nortons. On a trip to Cape Cod our bus had a power steering line fail and the shop we stopped at to fix it had a R750/5 for sale for $250. I started thinking how can I get this in the bus and drop it off in Chicago to my uncle? Didn’t happen. A number of years later during a career change into teaching, I needed a vehicle to get back and forth to the college. A car in our budget was going to cost a lot more in upkeep and...I was no longer living with mom. That and my wife said go for it! The hunt was on. I ended up with a CX500 custom off of eBay from a local seller. I had a permit, helmet and basic knowledge on a couple of runs on a 3 wheel atv. On the ride around the block after picking the bike up, I found myself standing at the corner, bike on its right side and my helmet in the grass median. Picked it up and rode home with my wife following in the car. Very intentional ride on the city parkways as much as possible. I knew within three weeks the CX was too small for a long term relationship, but it was a start. Now I’m waiting for my GS1150 to be attached to a sidecar so my wife (or dog) can ride with.
In my years as a MSF instructor I've heard people say all sorts of reasons to start riding, such as, "my husband said I'd never be riding a motorcycle. He's my ex now, and here I am!" She did great, hope she's still riding now. The best were always "you showed me I CAN do something that looked so cool, but is a lot harder than I thought." To that comment, keep in mind for those of us who ride for decades it's like breathing. To those who never rode before, its like trying to breathe with Andre the Giant sitting on your chest.
The middle child of 5, folks never allowed us to ride motorcycles til I hit 18 right after high school. It was the summer of 1990, Steve (younger brother by a year) and I somehow managed to get an old Yamaha 400cc crotch rocket and a Suzuki bandit I think. No license, no insurance.. we were learning how to ride in the back country roads out in south Texas. Back then, there was a helmet law and here we were cruising the roads w/out one. On the 3rd day of riding, we had gotten pretty comfortable with them. On the way back home, we pass a Constable's vehicle and sure enough.. lights and sirens come on.. Fight or flight, not sure why.. but I just gunned it since he was coming the other way and had to turn around. Moments later after a few turns, I couldn't see or hear him anymore.. nor could I see Steve on the cruiser. I had a feeling he had stopped. Turns out cop pulled him over and told him quickly to chase after me. So here I am, zig-zagging .. hoping to lose him while Steve and the cop trying to track me down. Man I was sooo scared; not sure if the bike or I was shaking / vibrating more; but I could hear every thump of my heart.. We were very close to home but I didn't think it would be a good idea to go there, so I did the next best thing.. over to grandma's a mile away, hid the bike in the garage and laid low. Cop and Steve make it to the house; fortunately, parents not home. Cop didn't see me either but told Steve when your brother gets home.. "make sure to WEAR a helmet next time!!". Got home later that day, Steve's having a good ole laugh about how crazy I was taking off like that and how nice the policeman was about it all. Now in our forties, he has 3 daughters, 3 cars , no motorcycles. Today I have no kids, 3 dogs (all girls..), and 10 motorcycles.. (3 w/ side cars)... Hey.. what can I say...it "runs" in my blood .
I posted this in the "favorite memory" thread in 2018 but it fits here too: One of my favorite motorcycle memories was also one of my first. It wasn't an epic ride across the country. In fact, it was only about a mile long but it was very important. 1973, I was fourteen, my best friend John had just gotten a brand new Yamaha 100 Enduro. I rode my bicycle over to his house to see it. He rode it around the block a few times as I stood there watching with envy. His mom came outside to check on us. Then she said, "why don't you let Jay ride it?" I could tell by the look on his face that he didn't want to but he couldn't say no to his mom. I was thrilled. They lived on a street that circled a park. I rode it around the big circle with a huge grin on my face. I felt like I was the king of the world (I still sometimes feel that way today while riding.) For those few brief minutes, I was Bronson. John got out of motorcycling as soon as he got a car - I never lost interest. We drifted apart but still run across each other every few years. In 2009, his mom passed away. I went to her funeral. Thanks John's mom for helping plant a seed that is still growing today, forty-five years later.
My dad had ridden Hondas a lot when i was a young kid. Then mom went to nursing school and had to work in the ER. She saw a lot of seriously injured motorcyclists, so talked dad out of riding. A few years later, as a teen, I asked dad about me getting a bike and got the "not while you're under my roof" reply. A few years after that, I'm hanging wirh my girlfriend at her mom's house, and her cousin shows up on a used Nighthawk 250. I asked him if I could ride it and he said ok. Gave me a quick tutorial and off I went. The feeling was tremendous. I was in love for life after that. A few years after that, I had married my girlfriend and we of course had our own place. We were visiting my parents, so I was there when dad rolled up on a brand new Yamaha Virago 535, a sweet little bike if there ever was one. I found that to be kind of funny. Dad had decided to get back into riding, which I'm glad he did. He let me use his Virago to get my license and I've been riding ever since, for about the last twenty-five years.
When I see people post their "how I started riding" stories here it seems like most of them fall into two categories: 1. Been riding my whole life, Parents/dad/older brothers rode, knew how to ride a motorcycle before I could ride a bicycle, etc. on the one hand, and 2. Parents/spouse were against riding, always wanted one but never had the opportunity/permission, but now that kids are grown and out of the house and I have the time and money I decided to get one, took the MSF course, etc on the other. My own experience is in between those two. Nobody in my family ever had motorcycles, we didn't know anybody who rode a motorcycle and while the family wasn't necessarily 'against' it, it certainly wasn't something that was ever considered as a reasonable or sensible thing to do. When I was about 19 my older brother (20) moved out of the house and got an apartment and he got it in his head that having a motorcycle would be easier than having a car. I honestly don't know what got into him to get a motorcycle but IIRC it was a "practical" decision at the time. This would have been circa 1981. Somehow he ended up with a 1974 Honda CB750 which I thought was enormous at the time. He taught himself to ride and passed the test for his MC endorsement but at that time I had ZERO interest in riding or owning a motorcycle. A few months later (Spring 1982) I was at a friend's parents house in the mountains outside Denver and they had an old Kawasaki 175 dirt bike. People were taking turns riding it up and down the driveway (maybe 1/4 mile) and then it was my turn. I said "no" but they "peer pressured" me into trying. They showed me how to work the gears and the clutch and I got on, intending to ride just to the end of the driveway and back, just to shut them up and get them off my back. Well, as soon as I figured out how to ride it was just like - magic. It felt like flying and I couldn't believe how much fun it was. 45 minutes later I finally got back to the house just as my friends were about to send out a search party, since they were sure I had gone down in a ditch somewhere and was lying there with a broken leg (or neck.) I was definitely bitten by "the bug" and decided I wanted to get my own bike. A few months later I finally bought my own bike, a POS Honda CL-450 that someone had tried to turn into a "chopper" by extending the forks and removing the front brake. The tank was from a different bike and the seat was literally held on with a bungee cord. Surprisingly, I was able to pass the MC riding test on that abomination and rode it for a year or so. The funny thing (to me) is that my brother, who had first really introduced me to motorcycles, didn't seem to care for riding all that much. He did take one long trip (from Denver to Detroit and then down to Virginia and back) om the bike in the Summer of 1982, but after that he kind of lost interest in it. I never did and eventually he "traded" his CB750 to me for some stereo equipment. My brother still maintains his MC endorsement, and every now and then we'll go on a ride together (nice thing about having two bikes is I can loan one out) but he hasn't owned a motorcycle since then and probably never will again. OTOH, since 1982, except for a couple of 5 years stints (one of them when I was in the Army and another right after my first motorcycle wreck) there haven't been very many times that I DIDN'T own a bike. Some people get bitten by "the riding bug" and some don't, I guess.
My Dad was a WWII vet, and his brother as well. Upon returning from the war, mourning another brother that didn't come home, they started their own business, bought motorcycles and rode a ton. In the late forties they would ride their bikes to Daytona, this was before I-95 was built and it was a hell of a trip in March to ride from Philly to Daytona. Soon Dad met Mom, but he met Mom at the motorcycle club meetings, she went with her brothers. Soon Dad put a sidecar on his Triumph and they would ride to Daytona together, before they were married. It gets even better. Mom's brother opens a Harley dealership in Philly and talks Dad into helping him out. So now Dad works with bikes all day. And Mom's Dad, well he is in the motorcycle Hall of Fame because back in the day he was a factory Hillclimber for Indian, and held few National Titles. All of Mom and Dad's friends rode, and all of the parties and bar b ques we went to in the summer, there were bikes and people were riding. Dad's best friend he met during the War. They hung out a lot. and would run into each other a lot, random weird places. Went to one Eagles game in his life, Dad's best friend was at that game, they only one he ever attended. Go to the Philadelphia Zoo one Sunday, bump into Dad's friend. The stories they told and the laughs they had. I wanted that in my life. I started as a small child, and never stopped, and never will. I remember going to Kindergarten and getting strange looks from other kids when I asked them what their parents rode. It was totally foreign to me that there were people who did not ride motorcycles. (Still kinda is) My wife will send me out on rides when she feels it has been too long. I still have the last bike Dad owned. And I think about him every time I see it. But I can hear him talking to me when I ride it. He gave me the best gift a kid can get.
I frequently ponder how many of our students end up sticking with it. Not as many as we'd like, I'm afraid.
I had never ridden a bike in my life. We were on our way down to Pensacola for flight school in 1985. A buddy turns to out of the blue and says, "We're getting motorcycles, right?" "Right!"
No one in my family was a rider. My dad got his one and only motorcycle in about 1974, at 18. He was hit by an old lady on the way home from buying it, and never wanted to ride again. It was probably something to do with growing up during the reign of McGrath, and living on an isolated farm in the 90s, that got me into it. Also, there was Ralph, the Indian riding mouse. My dad got a Honda CT90 as payment for a debt, and I was enamoured, at about seven years old. I couldn't touch the ground, so he'd start it, and I'd ride around the garage and garden. He was working in the garage. I'd come around when I was ready stop and say "I'm ready!". I'd come around and he'd catch me, or I'd dump it in the tall grass. After that, Christmas 1997... I ran down the stairs, jumped the bannister, and found a 1984 Honda CR60R in the living room. I'll never stop.