I remember riding on the back of that thing with no helmet. Clinging for dear life to my biological fathers T-shirt. I can remember the burst of acceleration and the wind wanting to rip me from the safety of my fathers backside. Must’ve left a lasting impression. I still revert to a child like state every time I twist a throttle. everything disappears when I swing a leg over a bike to this day.
Slightly jealous of that…. growing up, motorcycles were not allowed - they were considered too dangerous. I had a brief stint in my early 20’s with a used Suzuki T500 for a couple summers, but really didn’t start riding until 30.
Great pic. Ditto. Same. I was smitten when they burst on the scene in '84 - vowed to own one someday. Took 15 years - but made it happen. Still own it. Still love it.
I had my first motorcycle crash before I was born. My 2 year old sister started climbing up the non-kickstand side of my Dad's bike that was parked on a slight hill. Mom, pregnant with me, ran over and moved my sister out of the way, as the bike ended up landing on her.
Same deal, different bike. I’m a “bit” older than you so my memory is my dad’s spanking new ‘53 AJS Model 18CS race/street bike. What a vivid set of memories, 4 years old, eye level with the head pipe and the upswept muffler, big polished aluminum cases, black tank with gold lining. He’d sit me up on the tank in my little kids Cromwell helmet and ride me in his lap to his lumber yard for the day. A mostly fun lifetime of racing and riding later, I still remember that. You could say, I never had a chance LOL.
Great story My father broke camp when I was two but from what I heard he was a gear head. I was in love the second I understood what a motorcycle was. Begged for a dirt bike for years and at last got one at 12. Been through too many bikes and hot rods to count at this point but I’ll never forget how great I felt getting that mostly used up yam 80.
yeah this was one of a small handful of times I ever saw my father. He died alone in a hospital last year during covid.
