As I’ve been thinking about this blog, my mind keeps going back to the Moto journalist greats like Clement Salvatori and Peter Egan. They write with a deep appreciation and a long perspective of the art and sport of motorcycling. Reading each of their articles over the years, I’ve noticed they are always artful about connecting old memories to current times, given the diversity of bikes he’s ridden over the years.

I’m reminded of the hierarchy of high school, elementary, and the weird limbo of in-betweenness known as junior high school. Each morning, I’d walk out to the school bus stop down the hill and board the bus to learn about everything between adjectives, algebra, and atoms. I was among the first kids to board that junior high bus on the way to school, which meant I was among the last to get off the bus home.

My neighborhood was like any other, with kids of all ages cast across it. As ninth graders, we were at the top of the pecking order in junior high, but in a few short months, we were all going to be back at the bottom of the pecking order in high school as sophomores. One afternoon, I remember walking up the hill from the bus stop, and I could see Trevor’s bike sitting in the garage of his family’s home at the top of the hill.

Motorcycles weren’t common in my universe in those days. I didn’t really know anybody who rode a motorcycle, and my parents were convinced I’d kill myself if I ever got one. One thing I do know, however, is that there was a curiosity that awakened seeing Trevor’s bike leaning in that garage. A few months slipped by junior high, faded away, and high school came into view. I remember seeing Trevor’s bike in the parking lot and learning it was a Honda. At the time, I didn’t know that “the nicest people rode a Honda.” The high school caste system reigned supreme, and sophomores were at the bottom of the totem pole.

However, I always remembered that bike leaning in the garage. It was the one that flipped the switch for me to want to pursue a passion on two wheels.

Fast-forward a few decades, and I meet a new motorcycle buddy at The Moto Social in San Francisco. He always laughs that his wife will only allow him 10 motorcycles. When a 2015 Norton came into view, he absolutely had to have it. Unfortunately, for him, the Norton was motorcycle number 11. He then said, “Dan, I have a motorcycle for you and your garage.” It wasn’t so much an ask—the motorcycle sort of just appeared and stayed in my garage.

What was it, you ask? It was a Honda, just like Trevor’s. I won’t get hung up on the cc’s or if it was a CB, GT, or a Hawk. In my mind, it’s close enough. This bike represents the transition from onlooker to participant. This bike’s owner has kept it near mint, given the age and miles on this bike.

I decided to take this bike on a late lunch ride and do the loop: ride the 24 freeway west to avoid all the traffic from San Francisco and head into the gently rolling hills of Briones County Park. I could feel all the emotion again of being that curious young teenager on a new bike winding it up to freeway speeds. While I never rode that early 90s Honda, the experience of being on that first bike all came back to me. The head nods to local moto culture on this bike were Lindemann Suspension and the Corbin seat.

What impressed me about this bike is that it’s simple in every way. It’s carbureted. It’s without computers. There is no ABS. Yet there is a very Gestalt experience about all these simple components coming together for the ride. I had no turbulence around my helmet as the air parted the left and right of my helmet. Like any modern motorcycle, the bike leaned effortlessly into left and right turns. The suspension was a little tired, but hey, this bike is no spring chicken. The good news is the Corbin seat finally broke in! It felt really comfortable after a few decades and 30,000 miles! I stopped at the reservoir to take it all in – both then and now.

While the ride was many hours too short, it was a lovely reminder of the joy and enduring duration of motorcycling in my life. It has blessed me with much richness, which I have found on two wheels, both from the community and the adventures within!

What was the bike that converted your from spectator to rider? Let me know in the comments!

Route: