Thursday, November 22, 2012
True Story 2.0
Was trying to remember the first motorcycle ride I ever took. I recall when I was 5-6 riding a little mini bike around the yard. But I'd say my first for real ride was when I was 8 or so. The neighbor across the street had a RM 60 and let me just say I was hooked from the first ride. The sound that it made, the smoke, the speed. I was a daredevil from the get go and by mid morning I was trying to jump a set of doubles we had built for our bikes. That did not last long until the RM broke and that was over. Next was a Honda Trail 90. I remember it was the step thru model and was rotary shift. No clutch , I knew it was lame even back then. The neighbors across the street were the most white trash, hillbilly, retarded SOB's ever. They had two sons that were a little younger then me but the same age as my brother. We played a lot together and my mother fed them almost ever morning before school. There front yard was a gearheads dream. Cars on blocks, motorcycles in every nook and corner. Pete was the mothers boyfriend. Later he would be found beat to death under a tree down the street from our house. Anyways Pete said if we could get the 90 running we could have it. WHAT so 4 boys sat around and found some tools found a spark plug from another bike. Pulled the carb off and cleaned it. (not good enough). and with a some gas in the tank it fired right up. I can still remember that feeling of "I fixed this POS and now it runs". Granted it did not run well but for a 10 year old I was stoked. Our mom work all day so in the summer we were left alone a lot. So we stole gas from cars on the property and would cruise this little 90 all over the place.By the end of summer we had broke the throttle cable and had just cranked the idle all the way up so it was like having cruise control. So funny trying to turn the idle up while riding then trying to turn it down to stop. Stupid kids but that was my first real repair and ride story. By the next year or two my dad had come back around and we got proper dirt bikes. I had a KX 80 and brother got a GT 60 I think. The town I grew up in is called Canyon Country and when I was there it was amazing place to grow up. We lived 7 miles up a canyon out of town and there were only about twenty houses up in the neighbor hood. Bikers, Hot Rodders, Lowriders and Cowboys all just on the walk to the bus stop. Really I loved being a kid in that period. We were allowed to run like wild indians and we had the space to do so. Feels like a hundred years ago but like yesterday all at the same time. I still get that "I fixed this POS thing and now I'm gonna go ride" feeling. It's one of the main reasons I build bikes. Never gets old, boring, and its my only time of the day my brain shuts the fuck off.