 | Rod Taylor is the owner of Cycle Station, located at 406 S. Seneca St. Cycle Station specializes in sales, parts and services for motorcycles. Rod has 13 years of Auto Dealer experience, and over 10 years of motorcycle experience. He is also ASE and Honda-Suzuki Polaris Certified. He can be reached at 316-267-3025. |
Motorcycles
2007-05-01 10:29:00
Motorcycle memories
Question: I was with some fellow motorcyclists, and we were reminiscing about past experiences. Having been around motorcycles most of your adult life, do you have any early cycling memories you would like to share?
Most of my childhood I traveled around, and was unable to become very close to anyone until I landed here in Kansas. Then I met a gentleman with some of the same interests. Both of us thought we had come of age, as we were driving under the tender age of 14. You probably remember that time of life when your body has outgrown your brain.
Most boys of that era earned well under minimum wage. But actually our pay wasn’t so bad. However buying any type of slick car at that age was out of the question. And, most guys ended up with some type of old granny-mobile which required intensive maintenance, and had no hope of attracting as much as a casual glance from the opposite sex. On the other hand, a great bike could be just the thing.
Envisioning ourselves as ladie’s men extraordinaire, we opted for the macho effect that a motorcycle might instill. Situations like these also help young boys develop important life skills, such as decision-making. Acquiring a bike at a young age forced us to learn another valuable life skill: persuasion.
Selling the idea to his dad was a monumental accomplishment. The old adage about the squeaking wheel getting the grease is actually true. He finally gave in under duress, and purchased a used Suzuki 80. Not exactly the new RM 250 he was hoping for, but it turned out his old man knew more about what he needed for a first bike than he did. Imagine that, a grown man knowing more than a kid. It was a new concept to us, and took some time getting used to. But it taught me another valuable lesson: go for the gold, but learn to be happy with any kind of alloy.
He rode that little 80 everywhere. Remember the girl thing? Well that didn’t work as planned. So he started looking for new outlets to challenge his “awesome” cycling skills.
One day this friend and I decided to go over to some gullies and do a little jumping. Evil Knievel was popular then, and he thought developing his stunt-riding skills would be a bonus with the ladies. He jumped a few gullies, increasing the amount of “air” he’d catch as his confidence grew. Then I suggested that he jump over there, gesturing to a spot. The spot I suggested was unsuitable for anything related to a motorcycling activity. It may have been fine for training bulldozer operators, but not for anything we were doing.
Funny thing, he didn’t even bother to look at the jump before making the attempt (he never did), so I didn’t think he was really going to do it. He rode back down the trail a little, turned the bike around and took off. By the time he got close enough to the edge and saw what was before him, it was too late. At this time I’m quite sure he realized there is a lesson in here somewhere; one, look before you leap; and two, something about beyond the point of no return. But these lessons were coming extremely fast and way too late.
It wasn’t the one point front wheel landing, or the brush, or hitting the culvert that hurt. It was his testicles between the rear tire and the fender that was causing all the discomfort. The spinning rear tire had gobbled him up and he was now wedged between the fender and tire all the way up to his groin. He couldn’t get out, and I was no help because I couldn’t get up off the ground from laughing so hard.
I’m sure he had two things on his mind, and probably in this order; one was to get this bike off him; and two, put a big whooping on me, the “laughing boy”.
I finally recovered enough to help extract him from the bike, and we both limped home with a broken bike and a broken ego. This was his first in a series of many lessons that would follow. But the lesson I’ll never forget: humility, pain, embarrassment, etc. You would have thought that he would leave the jumping to Evil but he didn’t. Three or four bikes, and several bruises later, he finally gave up cycling, and has yet to return.
On a serious note, always wear protective gear, ride safe, be courteous and watch out for others. Motorcycling is a great sport which many have enjoyed for countless hours.
