Were you born to be a biker?

As far back as I can remember, anything with two wheels and a motor was a fascination to me.  It all started when I was very young, looking through magazines like Popular Science and Popular Mechanics.  They had ad sections advertising mini-bike’s.  I even went so far as to cut out the ads and paste them into a binder and would stare at the pictures for hours on end.  I was bordering obsession.

Christmas was coming and I was probably no older than 8 when I took a marker and circled a few ads.  I strategically placed the opened magazine where I hoped my parents would see it.  Was I dreaming?  Was there even a remote possibility I would receive one of these cool two wheel Briggs and Stratton wonders?  I thought so.  The dream never did die.

The years went by when I finally got an up close look at a “real motorcycle”.  A friend of mine’s dad owned a Honda cl77 and invited me over to look at it.  Wow, this thing was BIG.  It had front and rear brakes, a clutch lever, lights, instruments and a multiple gear transmission!  I couldn’t fathom this gear changing thing.  I was familiar with how to change gears in a car but how was it possible to pull a lever on a handlebar to engage the clutch and shift with your foot to change gears?  Fascinated.

My persistence was honorable through the years.  I wasn’t about to give up.  I was now 13, a teenager.  “They are too dangerous!  You are going to kill yourself on one of those.”  Sound familiar?  Persistence, persistence.  I want, I want.  Well, I finally got my dad halfway talked into it.  That was half the battle won in my eyes.  It finally happened!  I don’t know if it was a parental moment of weakness or my constant badgering that did it but my parents agreed I could go out with my dad and start looking for a motorcycle!  A “real” motorcycle.

I couldn’t get to the daily newspapers classified section fast enough each day after school.  I was not that knowledgeable about brands and models, just knew I wanted something, anything – and street legal.  I found a Wards Riverside 50 in the paper – cheap.  That’s right, both Wards and Sears offered motorcycles in the 60’s.  My dad agreed to take a look on Saturday.  Being the middle of the week, the anticipation was almost unbearable.  Of course in my mind it was a done deal – I was going to get that bike no matter what.  Saturday finally came and off we went.  We arrived at the address but no motorcycle in sight?  After a brief introduction at the door we headed toward the garage.

The garage opened slowly and there it was.  It was big, it was shinny, it had instruments and a clutch!  It was street legal with lights, blinkers and a license plate!  I heard angels singing, it was like a hymn from heaven.  It was BEAUTIFUL!  “Would you like to test ride it?”  Boy Howdy, let me at it!  Up to this point my only real experience on two wheels was on a friends mini-bike and a small Honda CT70 with an automatic clutch.  I straddled the motorcycle as if I knew what I was doing.  She fired right up after a couple of kicks with that familiar 2 stroke wing-ding exhaust note and I was off.

“What do you think son, do you want it?”  What kind of question was that???  There was no way I was leaving that driveway without it!  The rest was as they say, history.  I will never forget that day with my dad.  The feeling I got when my parents first agreed to let me buy a motorcycle.  The anticipation of waiting for that particular Saturday to come.  The shivers that run up and down my spine when the garage door opened and I got my first look at the Riverside.  And the joyous, almost overwhelming feeling I had riding it home that day!  I was reminded of that feeling just last year after traveling 300 miles to pick up my new 2000 Black/Yellow Standard Valkyrie.

Well, I’m 46 now, currently own five motorcycles and the fascination has yet to subside which leads me to ask - were you born to be a biker?

Fanatic?  So be it.