I had just started a new job in 1976 and was undergoing a divorce from my first wife. With the divorce finally finalized, I found myself truly free for the first time in seven years.
I was already drinking and partying too much, so the only thing left for me was to buy a motorcycle. When Dave, a fellow geologist and my closest friend, told me he was going to put an ad for his motorcycle in the newspaper, I naturally asked him how much he wanted for it.
"Five hundred bucks," he told me.
"I'll take it, but you'll have to teach me how to drive it." I had never been on a motorcycle.
A lesser friend would have told me to go jump in the lake. Dave, in fact, did grumble a bit but in the end he promised to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, even if I didn't buy his motorcycle. That Saturday, he drove it to my house and gave me my first lesson. The bike was a 500cc Triumph dirt bike. I know! There is no such thing anymore and the bike would probably be worth ten grand these days if you could even find one. Anyway, Dave showed me the ropes and persevered until I finally got the hang of it.
I began riding the bike to work but soon found its knobby tires were more suited for off-road than freeway. I also soon learned that my ex-girlfriend was a better rider than me. I found this out as the reluctant passenger on back as she demonstrated how to race around a corner while nearly kissing the pavement. I traded the little dirt bike for a 750cc Triumph Bonneville street bike, quickly discovering the gears and brakes are on opposite sides than those on the dirt bike. Again, my bud Dave helped me transition through the difficulty.
My ex and I were unable to sell our house immediately so we took turns living in it until we sold it. One night, we had an impromptu party that included many of my new friends and many of hers. Do not ask me to explain! We were incompatible and did not hate each other. I soon began getting requests to take people for rides on the Bonneville.
The long trip around the block would begin as uneventful but ended the same way a half dozen times. The grass on the front lawn was wet and every time I jumped the curb and hit the grass, I would lose control and we would slide across the wet yards on our rear ends. Did I mention that we were all drinking?
No one was hurt and the Bonneville suffered only a few superficial scratches. I have a picture of the Bonneville around somewhere but only a memory exists - not even a tiny scar - of my first motorcycle. It is a shame because that cycle and friends like Dave helped me through a very rocky patch in my life.
"Five hundred bucks," he told me.
"I'll take it, but you'll have to teach me how to drive it." I had never been on a motorcycle.
A lesser friend would have told me to go jump in the lake. Dave, in fact, did grumble a bit but in the end he promised to teach me how to ride a motorcycle, even if I didn't buy his motorcycle. That Saturday, he drove it to my house and gave me my first lesson. The bike was a 500cc Triumph dirt bike. I know! There is no such thing anymore and the bike would probably be worth ten grand these days if you could even find one. Anyway, Dave showed me the ropes and persevered until I finally got the hang of it.
I began riding the bike to work but soon found its knobby tires were more suited for off-road than freeway. I also soon learned that my ex-girlfriend was a better rider than me. I found this out as the reluctant passenger on back as she demonstrated how to race around a corner while nearly kissing the pavement. I traded the little dirt bike for a 750cc Triumph Bonneville street bike, quickly discovering the gears and brakes are on opposite sides than those on the dirt bike. Again, my bud Dave helped me transition through the difficulty.
My ex and I were unable to sell our house immediately so we took turns living in it until we sold it. One night, we had an impromptu party that included many of my new friends and many of hers. Do not ask me to explain! We were incompatible and did not hate each other. I soon began getting requests to take people for rides on the Bonneville.
The long trip around the block would begin as uneventful but ended the same way a half dozen times. The grass on the front lawn was wet and every time I jumped the curb and hit the grass, I would lose control and we would slide across the wet yards on our rear ends. Did I mention that we were all drinking?
No one was hurt and the Bonneville suffered only a few superficial scratches. I have a picture of the Bonneville around somewhere but only a memory exists - not even a tiny scar - of my first motorcycle. It is a shame because that cycle and friends like Dave helped me through a very rocky patch in my life.
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