Finally, a seat height that lets me get my feet flat on the ground. I'm 5'4" and have been looking for a ride that would let me touch down solidly.
The good news: I've finally found a ride that lets be get a good foothold.
The bad news: It has 4 wheels and is a wheel chair.
It's a cruel, cruel world!!!
Oh, I know, they're a lot of low riders out there now. But, when you like riding back roads, you want to ride something you can lean into the turns with. That's a big part of riding, for me. I've seen too many guys lean hard into a turn, hit a bump, then have a memorable get off as their ride kicked out under them. So, I've learned to make due with seat heights that were available.
Looking back, I really didn't have much of a choice. Old school choppers looked great, but hard tails with kicked out forks and poor breaks just didn't fit my riding style.
No matter what I rode, it had to be fun to ride and handle well, to keep me happy.
Since I'm our of the wind for a few weeks, I figured it would be a good time to take a trip down memory lane.
This is the first installment of
42 Years: Going Deaf In The Wind!
Mid 60's
Some of my buds discovered Thai Stick, others Colombian Gold. I discovered you could really have a blast on a Harley Servicar in a farmer's field. Those old 45's sounded good once the mufflers rusted out and I never thought cow crap would ever get me in a wheel chair. I slung enough of it at my buddies on "scramblers", but they always got me back. I won't go there as it was always ugly. I knew I had to get a motorcycle, but my mom was against it. I lost my dad a few years earlier, so I had no one on the inside to pull for me. I did what every kid did who wanted to ride. I looked at mom and said,
"I don't want a motorcycle. I want a Honda"
Remember that, "You meet the nicest people on a Honda", ad? I latched onto that like a frog's tongue on a fly. It worked! I got her into the Honda Shop!
At a very young age, I learned the power of marketing.
Well, now that I got her into the shop and introduced her to a nice guy named John Laramie (he started Manchester Honda in a small shop on Center Street). She was impressed by his professionalism and his concern for starting me out with the right ride for a beginner. As he started to walk over to a Honda Cub 50cc, he saw the bilious look that came over my face and turned to a Super 90! My mind raced! I knew the 305 Super Hawk would be pushing my luck, so I ran over to a CB160, sat on in, and my feet touched the ground (almost). Well, she went along with it.
The day we went to pick it up, I was one proud and happy kid. After she dropped me off at the shop, she wanted to stick around to see me ride it. I told her not to worry, and a salesman told her he would check me out before he let me go. My naive mom gave me a hug, then went about her errands. It was a relief as I had no idea how to ride the bike!
The salesman took me out back into a small parking lot. He pointed out the throttle, the breaks and the shift lever. Leaving it on the center stand, he had me go through a few gears, get the feel of the throttle and the clutch, then had me move a few feet at a time, let go of the clutch and stop. When he figured I was ready, he had me go through a few gears, then cut me loose. Man, I was flying high!
I was a Biker!
After riding around 30 miles, I figured it was time to go home and take a break. I pulled into our garage, got off, and tried to get the thing on it's center stand. You see, that's the one thing they didn't teach me: pull up with the hands, push down with the feet. After finally getting it up, I called John and asked if there was a better way to do it than running backward, then slamming the center stand down. He laughed so hard, I think he broke a rib.
The following two years saw me ride that little bike to the scrambles in Grafton, VT twice and to Laconia twice. I enjoyed pulling up to my tormentors, watching them kick over their big twins until their faces turned kind of purple, then hit my start button, smile and take off before they could get into gear to catch me and kick butt.
Oh, I had to endure my share of kidding: Once leaving work I found papers under my bike (my buddies didn't think it was toilet trained yet) and once found it wedged between a Harley and a Indian Chief (my buddies were hoping a few cc's would rub off). I finally gave into the "There ain't nothing like cubic inches" brain set and sold my little, easy starting, good handling, reliable little bike. I traded up to a Harley Sportster!
The CB 160 experience taught me three things:
1. A 16 1/2 HP bike can take you on adventures, ride with the big boys (under 70), and get you home
2. You can crash, get hurt or kill yourself on a 16 1/2 HP bike, but you have to be incredibly stupid or work very hard at it.
3. Don't let anyone tell you what to ride!
Remember, I'm a Harley Owner. But, I stand by what I learned when I was a kid.
The bike that's right for you is the one that best fits your riding style.
Oh, and it helps if you're feet hit the ground.
Be Safe,
Ron
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