(WOW) Watch Out World, I’m a Biker!
by Roger “wildwolf”, Motorcycle-Journal member
After nearly 3 years of begging and pleading, when I was 10 years old my mom finally broke down and bought me a used motorcycle. It was a 50cc Honda, with 3 gears and a shift pattern of N-1-2-3 with a cable clutch. The first time I laid eyes on it, I knew then it was the most beautiful motorcycle in the world: I had to have it. Lucky for me, my mom was willing to part with the insane price of $40.00 cash to get it for me.
I was a skinny little runt back then and my older brother at 14 outweighed me nearly double. That little bike sure had spirit, though. It would pull my brother and I up the steep hills around the house like we weighed nothing, as long as we attempted those ‘hill climbs’ in first gear.
I had my first experience at being a mechanic with that bike. I would pull old shifter cables off the neglected bicycles in the shed and use them to jimmy-rig a working clutch when my cable would break. I didn’t know much about preventative maintenance. Couple squirts of oil on the chain and sprocket, gas in the tank, and I was ready to ride. I managed to pull the carburetor off once or twice. Take it all apart, soak all the parts in gasoline in an old plastic pan, and put it all back together so it would run again.
Top speed of that mean machine was likely less than 25 miles per hour, yet the first time I was able to ride it for myself, I was flying. It was as if I had inherited the world. The huge world was brought into closer perspective when I had that motor and those two wheels under me. A 60 minute walk through the woods to an aunt and uncle’s house was reduced to 15 minutes of a most joyous ride imaginable. I would call ahead of time, and my aunt would have warm cookies fresh out of the oven when I got there. A quick card game or two, and I would climb back on my steel horse and gallop away. More often than not, I would take the long way home and it was still an hour for the return trip.
I remember once in my travels, I stumbled upon an old, neglected cemetery while traversing a newly found dirt road miles from home. One of the names upon the stones I read in somber peace that day had a military insignia chiseled out before the departed’s name. I remember standing ramrod straight in my best impersonation of attention, snapping forth my best attempt at a salute, and thanking that fallen soldier, that had perished many years before I was even born, for the opportunity for my freedom. I’m sure anybody watching then would have laughed at my futile attempts to be “grown up” that day in the woods, but it was that day in the woods when I realized I was growing up.
Moments later, I threw my leg back over my motorcycle, kicked it to life, and headed down that dusty road thinking to myself, this is what life is all about. Now, nearly 30 years later, I have an electric start. I have a helmet, gloves, and an armored jacket that I wear for my protection. I have, more importantly, come to realize that, thanking that Unknown Soldier, riding away on my motorcycle and looking for life’s next journey…really is what life is all about.
I sold that machine to a friend about 2 years later for $20.00 so he could get it set up for a nephew of his. It had served its purpose with this young child and it was time for it to go help the next adventurer. My older brother, now 18 and having joined the military asked me not longer after if I would like to take care of a brand new motorcycle he bought and kept at the house while he was stationed away. Of course, how could I refuse such an offer, but that, I’m afraid is a story for another day.
April 2nd, 2008 at 4:59 am
Great story, and really down to earth. I can just feel it all happening! If this was a chapter in a book, I would be wanting to know the name of it, cuz I would definitely buy it!!