Getting Personal

Let's talk about your first bike.

Collaboration is always the best medicine. Let’s share stories of how we acquired our first motorcycles; I’ll publish a handful of your submissions in a subsequent email. Here’s mine to get things started.

After relocating from Waterford, Wisconsin to Dayton, Ohio in late summer 1999, I discovered how more suited the southern state was for motorcycling. Thirteen years prior — while a sophomore at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater — I announced to my parents the intention to buy a Kawasaki Ninja. Their response was to buy me a 1982 Chevrolet Chevette for $936. My independence wasn’t solidified yet.

Three years later I was married. The first house came in June 1992. Child number one arrived in May 1993, followed by number two 18 months and five days later. Practical-minded Gary delayed the motorcycle purchase once again. Bicycles were my passion, and its many (expensive and equipment-heavy) disciplines were enough to drain my meager savings and fill my time.

After Huffy bought the start-up bicycle company I worked for in July 1999, the possibility of finally getting my hands on a bike worked its way out organically.

Several new co-workers at the tech center in Springboro rode motorcycles, and many industry peers kindly offered advice on which bike to consider. A mint 1973 Honda CB750 appeared in Cycle Trader. The owner was asking $3,000; I had enough money after selling a couple titanium bicycles, so I called him. He was based in Cleveland, roughly three hours northeast. I told him I would call for directions the following Friday evening after returning from a business trip.

As it turned out, the CB750 wasn’t meant to be mine. I called him as promised, but a Japanese collector offered $9,000 for the bike, which any fool would take. The quest for my first bike continued.

After filling my head with dreams of owning a `60s-era Triumph Bonneville, Norton Commando or BSA Gold Star, I settled on a 1974 BMW R90/6. Respected journalist Maynard Hershon and Salsa Cycles founder Ross Shafer both spoke highly of the Bavarian airhead in early summer 2000. The bike had plenty of nines and sixes: 900cc with 60 hp, 462 pounds curbweight with a 6-gallon tank. I discovered that a cared-for R90/6 with 43,000 miles was available just north of our home in Oakwood after flipping once again through Cycle Trader.

Problem was, I didn’t have my M1 class yet. I visited the owner and convinced him to give me a test ride, me holding onto the passenger seat rails. After handing over $2,400 in cash, he drove it to our house and parked it in the garage. Two weeks later I passed the motorcycle safety foundation course which, at the time, didn’t bypass having to take a written and parking lot test at the wretched DMV.

And I do mean wretched: the Huber Heights DMV was the hub for DUI offenders, delinquents and other scofflaws. To make matters worse, I failed to pass the parking lot portion of my test after killing the engine, toppling a cone and touching the ground with my left foot within seconds of starting the test. The dreaded loser’s trifecta.

The second time was almost not the charm. My co-worker Steve Haver bought a new BMW R1200C (just like the one Pierce Brosnan rode as James Bond in “Tomorrow Never Dies”). We decided to take the DMV motorcycle test together, and right before he arrived at my house I discovered my R90/6’s front tire was flat. Solution? Ride nuts to butts on Steve’s Beemer and take turns with the bike in Huber Heights. The difference between Bond and Wai Lin and the two of us was we weren’t handcuffed together, forcing Steve to apply the clutch lever between shifts while I twisted the throttle like they did in the movie.

I found the modern bike to be much more responsive, with a smoother clutch zone and less-touchy brakes. I passed the parking lot test, but alas Steve did not. It was a bittersweet ride back to Oakwood that summer day in 2000.

Two years later, Steve and I rode to the BMW Owners of America rally in Trenton, Ontario with co-worker John Fowler, who owned a red R1100R. We covered 1,200 miles that trip, rolling through Toronto, camping at the rally and riding past Niagara Falls on the way home. By then we were experienced riders and laughed heartily about our DMV experience.

After moving to northern California in mid 2006, I sold my R90/6 to a first-time rider from Oakland in June 2008, weeks before the economy tanked and spiraled the world into a not-so-great depression.

---

There’s a fairy tale ending to this story. On September 26, more than 20 years after getting thwarted by the Cleveland 1973 CB750, a mint 1976 CB750F Super Sport was added to our stable of bikes. This beauty was purchased from its second owner in Bay Point, north of Walnut Creek.

Tell me about your first bike!