[Photo by Maddie Vaughan on Unsplash]

I’ve loved motorcycles since I was a little kid.  I’ve had dirt bikes as a kid and as an adult.  One of my earliest childhood memories is when I was about two years old (1969 for context); we were walking across a parking lot in the Philippines and my parents saw a cool motorcycle parked nearby.  They put me on this stranger’s motorcycle (things were different then) and took pictures of me pretending to ride it. Another very early memory took place when I was about four years old in the very early 1970’s.  In our neighborhood in Phoenix, Arizona my dad bought a little Honda CB 100 street bike.  He would put me on the tank and let me take over the steering wheel as we rode around the neighborhood.  In fact, during the summer, I was on romper room.  Dad bought me a helmet to match his and started taking me to the TV studio every morning down the highway on his little street bike.

We moved to the country (Western North Carolina) when I was seven and less than two years later I had talked my parents into buying me a minibike.  In fact, I started begging for one the moment I found out that was a thing kids did there.  I’m not sure that even a few other kids in the little country school I went to in Unaka, North Carolina had them, but I’d seen or heard of one kid having one and that was enough for me to start begging.

I was given a Hodaka Combat Wombat (picture below) when I was twelve and had to learn how to repair bikes – because it broke down about every third day out. I started reading dirt bike and motocross racing magazines when I was twelve with a desire for a better bike. As a result, I started talking my parents into buying me a motocross bike. I had to help earn it and by the time I was thirteen I helped earn it by saving newspaper sales money.  I could do big jumps now, controlled wheelies, stunts, etc. Then I went to college and got married (so no bikes).

As an adult, we’d moved to Owensboro, KY for work and I didn’t know a whole lot of people.  My wife felt sorry for me one day since I didn’t have any friends there yet.  She asked me how much I could buy a dirt bike for.  I told her about $2000.  She agreed to let me get one.  A few months later, I drove home with a brand new dirt bike made for racing in the woods.  It cost a little over $6,000.  I also had to get new gear to ride with and that was about another $1,200 or so. 

A few years later, I bought my eight year old son a little mini-bike (a Honda XR 50).  It was a Christmas present and he seemed to generally enjoy it.  He’s a very stable kid though, so I didn’t know how much he did or didn’t really like it.  We lived in town, so I had to haul it and him around to places to let him ride it from time to time.  After that got a bit burdensome, I explained to him one day that we needed to sell it since we didn’t live in the country and he didn’t get to ride it that much.  He trusted me so much then, that he just said, “ok dad” and that was that.  I found out years later that it was his favorite Christmas or birthday present ever.  He liked that bike, but didn’t yet really know how to tell me.

I talked about motorcycles quite a bit at that time because that was a very exciting part of my life. One day, I was discussing motorcycles in general with my dad.  I can’t remember if I was discussing buying another one or just telling him some tale of my latest jump, climbing over a tree stump or crashing through the woods on one. He had a senior moment and got a little annoyed with me over the topic and had a little outburst.

“Motorcycles, motorcycles! You’re always talking about motorcycles! Why do you like motorcycles so much?!” he demanded.

For a moment, I was stunned and looked at him incredulously.  Then, I responded with the correct explanation, “You’ve got to be kidding me dad!” I spoke out.  “We have pictures of me, that you staged, riding on a stranger’s motorcycle when I was two!  All my earliest memories are of you riding me around on your street bike and you always had stories to tell about how great your motorcycles and Vespa scooters were when you were a kid! Why do I like motorcycles so much?! It’s your fault dad, you taught me to love them!”

Then I started laughing and he shrugged his shoulders and smiled a small sheepish little smile and said, “I guess it was my fault a little.”

I laughed some more.  I haven’t owned a motorcycle for many years now, but I’ve had occasion to be on them from time to time.  I miss them and I’ll probably have another while I still can [breaking news…wife agreed to me getting another one! – requirement – I must buy her furniture, lose weight and get in shape – It will be done!].  In between the last motorcycle and now I bought a bass boat.  That’s a story for another day.

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Why not try another story like: Tales from Kentucky #1: The Spider Girl?

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