TAT: Pre-Ramble Part Four

A bit of backstory on my motorcycle history.

Here’s a bit of backstory on my motorcycle history.

My first motorcycle was a green plastic battery-operated bike which was a predecessor to Harley's Livewire.

Then came the Honda Trail 70 at about 10 or 11 years old. The feeling of adventure and freedom that little bike gave me was astounding. It also instilled in me a love of ugly as sin motorcycles that endures to this day. This bike still runs and currently lives in Ohio at my Uncle’s farm.

When I turned 16 I bought a Honda Shadow 500 and when I was 17 I was riding it straight through a green light and someone coming the other way didn’t see me and made a left turn directly in front of me. My body and bike totaled their car. I spent a few days in the hospital with a broken ankle and some minor injuries. I got very lucky. My bike wasn’t so lucky and was totaled. I decided to use the insurance money to purchase a creepy 70’s Chevy Van with spoilers on the hood and a framed Jack Daniels Old No. 7 mirror on the wall inside. You could fit a keg in the van and have a rolling party, which was important in rural Newtown, CT in 1984. The accident scared me and I shied away from bikes for a bit. But just for a short bit. The way an overdose victim might lay of the heroin for awhile. Until the pangs get too strong.

A couple of years later I bought the larger 750cc version of the same bike. I loved those Japanese Harley rip-off bikes. I still do.

I’d moved to Columbia, SC to attend college and then hung around to play in various rock bands. I rode all over the South throughout my twenties when I wasn’t touring. After the last band got dropped I moved out to Los Angeles to chase a girl and to try to make some money for the first time in my life. I got into the film business and got married to the girl I was chasing (the one who started this whole TAT thing). I finally got rid of the last motorcycle I owned (a Suzuki Intruder) about 20 years ago when my wife and I had our first kid. Seemed like the responsible thing to do. Here’s a photo of it after years of sitting unused. I had a hard time letting it go even though I liked the Shadows better. I used that 60’s convertible Plymouth Valiant in the background to help ease the pain. But we all have to grow up sometime - right?

Over those 20 years of not owning a bike, I’d rent one a couple of times a year just to have a chance to get out there and clear my head. I rented Harley’s mostly, because that’s what was readily available, and because I love riding them. After moving from Los Angeles to Asheville, NC in 2006 - I started renting adventure-style bikes so that I could explore the many fire roads in the region - and I fell in love with that ability to see an unmarked trail on the side of the road, and take it.

I like having some sort of weird goal attached to my rides. For three years, every time I rented a bike my goal was to get over the Smoky Mountains from NC to TN without using a map or GPS (compass only) and without getting on a highway. Not impossible of course - but it was much more difficult than it sounds! So many of those mountain roads just peter out to nothing. And without Google Maps - you don’t know that until you’re at the nothing. And I very much enjoy not knowing until you’re at the nothing.

For the longest trip I’ve done to date, I had a similar goal. I chose Gaspé, Canada as a destination (because the word Gaspé sounded cool to me), and again the rules were: no maps, no GPS. I could only use a compass. But I was allowed to get on the highways. That trip was on a giant Harley (which my ass remembers being just a wee tad more comfortable than the CT125). It was a 2,500-mile epic ride and I did eventually make it to Gaspé which didn’t quite live up to its cool name. But I was incredibly happy to be there all the same and I saw some incredible scenery, had several run-ins with giant moose (meese? What’s the plural of moose? Google says the plural of moose is moose. That’s disappointing.)

But now - the kids are old enough where me flying off a treacherous mountain road and plunging to a violent and glorious death wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, it would be bad. But I wouldn’t feel completely guilty about it. Of course, I’d be dead, so feeling guilt probably wouldn’t be a high priority anyway. What I’m getting at is, I’ve gone from owning zero motorcycles for the past 20 years to owning two motorcycles in the last three months, and I like the trend.