Looking at a digital album of the motorcycles I've owned I'm amazed at the variety of interesting bikes I've had the pleasure to ride and the vast amount of adventures I've had on them.
Street bikes, dirt bikes, touring bikes, and what's come to be known as “adventure” bikes. Mostly Hondas but a smattering of Brit and Euro bikes to add flavor.
My first bike, a Honda C110. 50cc of awesome power! My dad wouldn't let me have a driver's license but did allow me to purchase this tiny tiddler.
It was a magic carpet for me. I used to sneak out of my bedroom window at night and push it down the street so he wouldn't hear it start. I would go up to Skyline Drive and rode along the ridge with the lights of San Francisco beckoning across the bay. I'd go for hours and miles until I was exhausted. Then return home to push it into the backyard, climb back through the window, and fall asleep to happy dreams of adventure.
The following summer, after convincing my parents that I wasn't crazy, I rode the bike down the Coast Highway (Rt 1) all the way to Disneyland. It took me 2 days to get there but I was in heaven. After a couple of days roaming around L.A. I got on and rode up to Yosemite. Trust me, the Tejon Pass is 10 times as long when you only have 5 1/2 horsepower. My aunt and uncle lived in Merced so I stopped there for the night.
I got in late and didn't want to wake anyone so I spread out my sleeping bag on the front lawn and fell asleep. My uncle liked to tell the story about how he thought one of his kids had left their sleeping bag out and was very shocked when it let out a scream when he tried to pick it up.
They fed me breakfast and offered opinions about the sanity of going anywhere, let alone Yosemite, on my little bike. However, I was not to be deterred and left in high spirits.
Past Briceburg the the old Yosemite Railroad roadbed parallels the highway on the far side of the Merced river. Since my bike had a high pipe it must be a dirt bike, right?!?!
Bouncing along the rutted and washed out path it was wasn't long before I went over the side. Luckily the bike only weighs ~160 pounds so I was able to drag it back up the bank and head back to Briceburg. Then up to Yosemite and my first of many, many visits to the valley medical clinic. They patched up the tear in my arm and offered their opinion about my mental capacity. It was beginning to seem like a familiar chorus.
A couple of nights camping out in the valley and hiking around the falls with my Kodak Instamatic made me feel the stirring of the great wanderlust that continues to this day.
It all started with a bike so small that it wouldn't get a second glance these days. But it was the start of a wonderful relationship between me, Honda, and the world!
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