My step father did collision work, and used to do side jobs in the booth on his spare time, bartering in exchange for goods. I remember when he brought me home a Chrome Hutch BMX, in the early 90's. He had painted his friends vintage van in exchange for the bike to give to me. I was stoked, but it got stolen like every other bicycle I had as a kid.
Eventually we moved from the city to the country, at the age where I was just old enough to complain about some stuff and get away with it. My parents promised to buy me a dirt bike for making us move away from our friends, and they did. Within the first week of moving out to the boonies, I remember my dad took me to look at a dirt bike he had found in the tri-ads. It was a non-running 1979 Yamaha DT175 that had been bored out to a 200. He haggled the guy way down in price ($125), and I remember the second we sat down in the van, my dad smiled and told me he knew exactly why the bike wasn't kicking over. He said he would have it running the minute we got home. Well, long story short, I learned how to use a clutch that day. After a few hours of riding with supervision my parents let me take off down the road. I had to wear a helmet and be back before dark. Those were my rules. It was my 11th birthday.
I rode the bike down the highway I lived on, to the nearest dirt road, and took it to the first farm. I rolled up on my bike to the front porch of the farm house where a bunch of kids were sitting, and I asked them if I was allowed to ride my dirt bike through their fields. They gave me permission and even lead the way on their 3 wheeler, to a path where I could ride the entire length of their land. It was awesome! I rode around, and around, and around that field, for hours, in 1st gear. Eventually my bike died and wouldn't start again. After pushing it all the way home, and letting my dad rack his brain over it for a few hours, he finally figure out that I had burned a whole through my piston from riding around in first gear, wide open all day. I was too afraid to switch out of first gear. I didn't know I would break the bike if I didn't switch gears. First day, first time on a powered two wheeled vehicle, first lesson, first real heartbreak. We couldn't afford to get the bike fixed till the following year, but eventually it was fixed, and I got a few seasons out of it, with a lot repairs to keep it going. Ultimately my dad gave the bike away when I was 16 without my permission, saying it had sat too long (two seasons), without me saving to get it fixed. I was pissed. I never forgave him for giving that bike away.
Fast forward 10 years. Last spring I was 26 years old, sitting around scratching my nuts as a failed musician, when I decided it was time to sell all the guitars, amps and recording gear, and get onto something I had always wanted... a motorcycle. A real, grown ass man, goes-on-the-highway motorcycle. I had been having wet dreams about bikes for a few years at this point, and was really getting sick of having no wheels. Besides, I had just recently lost out on my biggest musical opportunity in life, and I didn't see an opportunity that big coming along again, possibly ever. It was time to put down the toys and pick up something real.
I decided that a Bobber was the kind of bike I wanted to start on. So I studied Craigslist for weeks on end, found a bike, went to view it, and asked the guy to take a deposit while I came up with the cash as quick as possible. He told me he would hold the bike for 4 weeks, but he didn't want to take a deposit. I went home and listed every last stringed instrument and fancy recording gadget I had on Craigslist, and I came back 3 weeks later, a week before my 27th birthday and bought the bike. It was a 1998 Yamaha V-Star 650 Classic, that had a 'Blue Collar Bobber' fender and solo seat kit, matte black paint, 14" apes, and some nice chrome Vance and Hines pipes. It was a stellar looking bike and it wasn't going to need constant maintenance or repairs.
I brought my best friend Kayvon with me, so he could follow me home. I hadn't ridden a motorcycle or used a clutch in over 10 years, and I had certainly never ridden a grown ass man, goes-on-the-highway bike. This thing looked like Terminator should be riding it. I felt so small beside it, like an ant. I was basically afraid I was going to fall off this thing and get run over, so I wanted someone I knew behind me in a car. Fuck, I'm laughing typing this right now. Can't believe I was such a wimp...
Anyways, I got on that fucking bike and rode that thing home, and it was unreal. The most amazing feeling I have ever had in my life. I used to have dreams as a kid like the one's where you are running upstairs away from someone, but your feet are heavy and you can't seem to run fast enough to get away, only the dreams I had were nightmares about me trying to get on a motorcycle and ride away, but I couldn't get it started, or it would crumble underneath me when I tried to ride away. Well, it was finally like my nightmares were over. It was like breaking away from your worst fear, and becoming free. I truly felt free for the first time in my life when I got on that bike and twisted the throttle. An incredible life altering feeling brought to me by a bike I bought. I didn't have to build a thing. Just had to make a decision, make some sacrifices, and save my ass off, and there is nothing I could regret less in my life.
This was my first ride. One of many to come.
Cory - The Great North ---- Currently listening to: Monster Truck - Love Attack
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