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The story of your first bike.
- Thread starter oldhway
- Start date
The_Veg
D'OH!
Good stuff. Now you have me waiting for part II........
+1!
First Bike
I was intoduced to bikes by my uncle who showed up at our house on a new 650
BSA. Wow, what a machine. He took me for a ride to my grandparents house by
going on the twisty backroads. Its scary to see the road getting closer to you as
you lean over. Years later, as a much more mature 14 year old, I tried to talk my folks into helping me buy a motorcycle. I finally won and the trophy was a '62
98cc Ducati without an exhaust pipe. It sounded like it was underwater. My first
corner sort of included a neighbor's yard as well as the entire road. This beauty lasted about 2 months before its mysterious death. I must have pushed it more than a mile trying to start it. Later, in the family basement, I tried to disassemble
the engine and found that none of Dad's wrenches would work (who ever heard of metric). I got so frustrated, I threw a wrench at the bike, it bounced off the front tire and hit me in the forehead. I got rid of that bike and didn't get another
until '69 when I graduated high school and had to have the Kawasaki 500 triple.
After learning to be a mechanic on this bike for a year and 6 months, it was traded
at a dealership for a new '71 R75/5 BMW. I haven't been the same since.
I was intoduced to bikes by my uncle who showed up at our house on a new 650
BSA. Wow, what a machine. He took me for a ride to my grandparents house by
going on the twisty backroads. Its scary to see the road getting closer to you as
you lean over. Years later, as a much more mature 14 year old, I tried to talk my folks into helping me buy a motorcycle. I finally won and the trophy was a '62
98cc Ducati without an exhaust pipe. It sounded like it was underwater. My first
corner sort of included a neighbor's yard as well as the entire road. This beauty lasted about 2 months before its mysterious death. I must have pushed it more than a mile trying to start it. Later, in the family basement, I tried to disassemble
the engine and found that none of Dad's wrenches would work (who ever heard of metric). I got so frustrated, I threw a wrench at the bike, it bounced off the front tire and hit me in the forehead. I got rid of that bike and didn't get another
until '69 when I graduated high school and had to have the Kawasaki 500 triple.
After learning to be a mechanic on this bike for a year and 6 months, it was traded
at a dealership for a new '71 R75/5 BMW. I haven't been the same since.
sheridesabeemer
I Used to Be Someone
10 Years Ago...
About a week after obtaining my motorcycle endorsement, my office mate, a Yamaha rider, told me he passed a BMW for sale on the way to work.
We rode over at lunch to check it out. I didn't know a K bike from an R bike.
But I knew it was a BMW and was purty.
It was an 11 year old K75 with 38K miles on it.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss. That lunch time trip was the extent of my shopping and research.
It was in my price range and that was good enough for me. My friend took it out for a spin, after all I had a 3 day old license and all of 5 minutes experience on a 250cc. He thought it was ok. I bought it. We trucked it home a few days later.
I promptly dropped it like a million times learning to do a U turn.
My first bike is now 21 years old with 86K miles, it's no longer intimidating tall nor heavy and I love riding it as much as ever.
Last Weekend
About a week after obtaining my motorcycle endorsement, my office mate, a Yamaha rider, told me he passed a BMW for sale on the way to work.
We rode over at lunch to check it out. I didn't know a K bike from an R bike.
But I knew it was a BMW and was purty.
It was an 11 year old K75 with 38K miles on it. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. That lunch time trip was the extent of my shopping and research.
It was in my price range and that was good enough for me. My friend took it out for a spin, after all I had a 3 day old license and all of 5 minutes experience on a 250cc. He thought it was ok. I bought it. We trucked it home a few days later.
I promptly dropped it like a million times learning to do a U turn. My first bike is now 21 years old with 86K miles, it's no longer intimidating tall nor heavy and I love riding it as much as ever.
Last Weekend
Rod Sheridan
New member
It was 1974, and I purchased a used 1973 Triumph Bonneville, despite my mothers objections.
The bike was certainly a learning experience, although being a slow learner, I later traded in the Triumph (and all my cash) to purchase a 1975 Norton Commando, that I still own.
The present ride is a 1976 R90/6 that was purchased to replace my previous 74 R90/6, which was killed by an SUV, just shy of 500,000Km.
It took almost a year to find a replacement R90/6, which was the unhappy offspring of a divorce. When I gave the cheque to the woman who owned it, she started crying.
I felt so bad that I offered to loan her the bike for the occasional trip or ride. Normally people only cry when they try to cash my cheques.
As for my mother, 34 years later she still asks me when I'm going to smarten up and give up motorcycles. My answer, hopefuly not until I'm dead.
I guess I'm lucky that Diann rides (an R60/7), it certainly makes spending time and money on this hobby easier.
Keep up the stories, I enjoy reading them.............Rod.
The bike was certainly a learning experience, although being a slow learner, I later traded in the Triumph (and all my cash) to purchase a 1975 Norton Commando, that I still own.
The present ride is a 1976 R90/6 that was purchased to replace my previous 74 R90/6, which was killed by an SUV, just shy of 500,000Km.
It took almost a year to find a replacement R90/6, which was the unhappy offspring of a divorce. When I gave the cheque to the woman who owned it, she started crying.
I felt so bad that I offered to loan her the bike for the occasional trip or ride. Normally people only cry when they try to cash my cheques.
As for my mother, 34 years later she still asks me when I'm going to smarten up and give up motorcycles. My answer, hopefuly not until I'm dead.
I guess I'm lucky that Diann rides (an R60/7), it certainly makes spending time and money on this hobby easier.
Keep up the stories, I enjoy reading them.............Rod.
Last edited:
W
WDaigle
Guest
Great stories everyone, keep em coming
Troutluck
TNSTAAFL
And you *still* have that windshield?
Part 2 - Rough cops, spiders, kind priests and gunrunners
I made a decision early on to avoid expressways though there weren't that may completed by 1967 anyway. I chose US 23 as a good route to follow in my journey to Florida, not that I put a lot of thought into it. I recall buying a map, looking at it briefly and chucking it into a waste basket. Too much planning would take the adventure out of any trip. My new (old) R59 had a dual seat so all my belongings, which included a duffel and a sleeping bag and a couple of cans of Dinty Moore were wrapped together in a plastic tarp and held in place by the aforementioned belts. I was in no hurry. A couple of hours earlier in the day I had been sitting in a morning class at Ann Arbor Pioneer High School staring out the window and now I was riding in the rain south of Toledo headed toward the sun. I had never been to Florida. My grandfather used to winter in Punta Gorda and would send us oranges and grapefruits every Christmas, but the farthest south I had ever traveled was to Nashville when I was 12 to attend a cousins wedding. The bike was running well and was pretty economical to operate, which was good because I had about $40.00 in my pocket as I recall. I had ridden a couple of times at night...enough to know that the headlight in the old bike did not provide much light, so my plan was to ride until dusk and find a place to camp. The rain eventually stopped, but I was pretty well soaked by the time I pulled into Portsmouth in Southern Ohio and started to look for a place to spend the night. At 17, sporting shoulder length hair and riding a motorcycle, I was pretty cautious about choosing a place to sleep....I didn't want Easy Rider Redux if you know what I mean. Safety in numbers. I recall finding a park in the center of town where I pulled my bike into a parking spot. Unpacking my gear I spread out my tarp and sleeping bag at the foot of a civil war monument......some general on a horse. I had one of the cans of stew for dinner.
It was about 8:00 or 8:30 by then and the town and the park were pretty much deserted. I figured I'd get up with the sun and continue my trip south. I fell asleep pretty quickly. I slept longer than I anticipated and didn't hear the two police officers approach. The first kick woke me up, and took my breath away. The second caught me in the ribs and sent me scurrying on all fours. It was 1967 and this was not San Francisco...................
I made a decision early on to avoid expressways though there weren't that may completed by 1967 anyway. I chose US 23 as a good route to follow in my journey to Florida, not that I put a lot of thought into it. I recall buying a map, looking at it briefly and chucking it into a waste basket. Too much planning would take the adventure out of any trip. My new (old) R59 had a dual seat so all my belongings, which included a duffel and a sleeping bag and a couple of cans of Dinty Moore were wrapped together in a plastic tarp and held in place by the aforementioned belts. I was in no hurry. A couple of hours earlier in the day I had been sitting in a morning class at Ann Arbor Pioneer High School staring out the window and now I was riding in the rain south of Toledo headed toward the sun. I had never been to Florida. My grandfather used to winter in Punta Gorda and would send us oranges and grapefruits every Christmas, but the farthest south I had ever traveled was to Nashville when I was 12 to attend a cousins wedding. The bike was running well and was pretty economical to operate, which was good because I had about $40.00 in my pocket as I recall. I had ridden a couple of times at night...enough to know that the headlight in the old bike did not provide much light, so my plan was to ride until dusk and find a place to camp. The rain eventually stopped, but I was pretty well soaked by the time I pulled into Portsmouth in Southern Ohio and started to look for a place to spend the night. At 17, sporting shoulder length hair and riding a motorcycle, I was pretty cautious about choosing a place to sleep....I didn't want Easy Rider Redux if you know what I mean. Safety in numbers. I recall finding a park in the center of town where I pulled my bike into a parking spot. Unpacking my gear I spread out my tarp and sleeping bag at the foot of a civil war monument......some general on a horse. I had one of the cans of stew for dinner.
It was about 8:00 or 8:30 by then and the town and the park were pretty much deserted. I figured I'd get up with the sun and continue my trip south. I fell asleep pretty quickly. I slept longer than I anticipated and didn't hear the two police officers approach. The first kick woke me up, and took my breath away. The second caught me in the ribs and sent me scurrying on all fours. It was 1967 and this was not San Francisco...................
5
535IS
Guest
I too had a Rupp at the age of 14 or 15. My best friend next door had a dirt bike and we rode in his back field. Round and round and round. It wasn't until my late 30's when this same friend had a Suzuki 650 he had bought in Texas and brought it home to Connecticut. It had been sitting in his basement and he sold it to me for 200 bucks. I took the riders course, registered it (after fixing it and getting it running) and off I went.
My wife at the time (now ex) thought what a hoot and got her license. We found her a 1981 Honda-matic, 2-speed automatic, 400cc engine. We even took our son Oliver, our four legged son, with us in a book bag hung on her chest. (Lots of padding
) He thought it was a hoot too 
. Actually she could have jumped out of building and he be right behind her 
During our divorce
I gave the bike back to my friend where it continues to rot in his basement. In 2005 I got the itch again and was living in Maine and visited a dealer in Falmouth (can't recall the name), saw a K1100 and fell in love with it. It had 82k on the ticker and now it has 103k or so.
My wife at the time (now ex) thought what a hoot and got her license. We found her a 1981 Honda-matic, 2-speed automatic, 400cc engine. We even took our son Oliver, our four legged son, with us in a book bag hung on her chest. (Lots of padding
) He thought it was a hoot too . Actually she could have jumped out of building and he be right behind her During our divorce
I gave the bike back to my friend where it continues to rot in his basement. In 2005 I got the itch again and was living in Maine and visited a dealer in Falmouth (can't recall the name), saw a K1100 and fell in love with it. It had 82k on the ticker and now it has 103k or so.
