camera56
Well-known member
Kevin goes by the handle "cruisin" on many forums. I tracked him down through a thread I posted asking people in "mid-life" why they ride . . . or why they got back into riding. His story about his first Honda 90 is wonderful.
You can read the entire interview, and it's a long one, at midliferider. Here are some snips. Enjoy.
Kevin gets his seat at the big table for at least two reasons. His story about his first bike, a Honda 90, is the whole point of this blog all wrapped up and ready to take home. It’s transporting. You can’t read about Walter and Henry and Darwin and welding that busted up kick-starter without wanting to cast the movie and start shooting on Monday. It’s paragraph after paragraph of great story telling about a time, a place, a guy, and a bike, none of which will ever happen again in this country.
The other remarkable bit about Kev is his record of 300,000 road miles without going down. That’s a lot of fine riding. I made it 2,500 miles before I dropped my first “mid-life” bike.
What was the first bike you owned?
Well, this is what I have from my journal:
1964 Honda 90—
Color—White
Frame—Box
Engine—89cc single, horizontal single
Accessories—none
Price–$100.00
Date—Spring 1968
I had convinced my parents that I was responsible and mature enough to use this bike for getting to and from work and that it would be much easier to operate and maintain than a car. Besides I could not afford a car and neither could they, and I had to work if I wanted any spending money of my own. So the permission was given, I found this bike in the Amarillo newspaper, and I made the deal. Dad took me to get it in his lime green ’59 Ford pick-up.
The first thing I did was add a set of Bates mirrors on the recommendation of Darwin Floyd (more about Darwin later). They were flat mirrors cost about $4.00 each. Back in 68 that was a very expensive mirror for a bike.
Another early modification that had to be done was repair of the kick-starter. It had been poorly welded before I purchased the bike and the owner had assured me that it was professionally done (What a crock). Anyway, one of my good friends and riding buddy, Henry Lingenfelter lived on a farm and said his father was a very good welder, so I drove out to their place about seven miles East of Panhandle on Hwy. 60.
Walter first used a torch to clean up the mess left by the last guy, and when he had remove all of the excess slag and the like we discovered that the shaft was only about half there. That made the new welding job more of a challenge. Walter gave it his best shot, not once but three times. Each time the kick starter held-up for about two or three weeks. After that I just got used to push starting the little beast. It was not that hard to run along side with it in gear and the clutch pulled in, and then when I had enough speed up, hop on and pop the clutch. I got so good at this technique that I could usually get started before the guys who had working kick-starters, but was no match for those with electric starters. What the hey, I was young, 14, and strong, and just considered it another part of staying in shape to play football.
On a side note, several years later Walter Lingenfelter was killed in a car/train accident out where he lived on the farm East of Panhandle. I believe it was 1978 while I was living in Lubbock with Mark Reynolds at the University Arms apartment complex. Walter had always treated all of Henry’s friends as if they were his own kids, probably better than most of their own dads treated them (that was the case with me anyway). He will never be forgotten.
That first summer I used the 90 to commute back and forth from Panhandle to the Stucky’s candy shop/gas station in Conway where I worked as a station attendant. That little bike would run 60mph on a good day and easily got me to and from work on a daily basis.
Not too long into that summer I quit Stucky’s and went to work for L.R. Copeland, a retired Air Force Colonel who farmed a half section of land about four miles East of Panhandle. Again the 90 came through as a great little machine. I even used it when Danny May and I both had to get to Copeland’s to buck bales each time his 50 or so acres of alfalfa was cut and baled. Of course it would only run about 50-55 with two of us on it. We both probably weighed about 110 pounds back then though.
Neither of us could afford a real helmet at the time so we used construction hard hats that we held on with shoestrings: Got kind of painful after a while. By mid summer I had enough money to buy a cheap helmet $15.00; thought I was pretty cool too.
Until we both had helmets, we would take the long way around town making a twenty-mile trip out of what should have been only seven. We thought we were fooling the cops that way. Little did we realize that they knew the scam all along but left us alone because they knew we needed the jobs and that was the only way we could get to and from work. I found that out later when we matured enough to not be afraid of them and got to know them as normal guys.
Another memorable time on the 90 was when I got a real ***-chewing from the school superintendent for having it parked on the old dirt running track at the high school. A bunch of us guys were up there playing flag football and he came along with a chip on his shoulder about something. Anyway they all had vehicles parked on the track but I was the only one he really singled out. I think he just hated bikes and anyone who rode them. Sweet revenge though, a few weeks later, I took one of his daughters for a ride into the country where we made out for a couple of hours. Seems like the only other girl I ever took on the 90 was my first love, Lana McCaskey, the most beautiful blonde in world; or so I thought at the time.
So, how did I learn to ride? I don’t really recall, it just sort of came naturally after some brief instructions from my oldest brother, I think. I just seemed to take to it like a duck in water.
I did get some very good instructions, or some might consider them orders from our local “Arthur Fonzarelli,” Darwin Floyd. As I mentioned earlier, he was dating my good buddy’s sister, Julie Lingenfelter. Julie was Henry’s sister.
I believe Henry got a bike (blue Yamaha 250) shortly after I did and it was not long before we started riding together and Darwin kind of took us under his wing to make sure we learned to ride safely from the very beginning. He would take us out on the back roads around the Lingenfelter farm and teach us all about counter-steering, obstacle avoidance, quick stops, pretty much most everything you might learn in an MSF class today.
I had always been pretty mature minded for my age and took a real liking to Darwin for having cared enough to spend time with us younger guys like that. I suppose the safety stuff he taught me back in 1968 has probably saved my life more than once. Of course I did a lot of reading and practicing on my own back in those days too.
I kept that little Honda 90 for about two years and logged up approximately 12,000 miles on it. But it was getting old having the smallest bike in the group of guys that I had come to hang out with.
You can read the entire interview, and it's a long one, at midliferider. Here are some snips. Enjoy.
Kevin gets his seat at the big table for at least two reasons. His story about his first bike, a Honda 90, is the whole point of this blog all wrapped up and ready to take home. It’s transporting. You can’t read about Walter and Henry and Darwin and welding that busted up kick-starter without wanting to cast the movie and start shooting on Monday. It’s paragraph after paragraph of great story telling about a time, a place, a guy, and a bike, none of which will ever happen again in this country.
The other remarkable bit about Kev is his record of 300,000 road miles without going down. That’s a lot of fine riding. I made it 2,500 miles before I dropped my first “mid-life” bike.
What was the first bike you owned?
Well, this is what I have from my journal:
1964 Honda 90—
Color—White
Frame—Box
Engine—89cc single, horizontal single
Accessories—none
Price–$100.00
Date—Spring 1968
I had convinced my parents that I was responsible and mature enough to use this bike for getting to and from work and that it would be much easier to operate and maintain than a car. Besides I could not afford a car and neither could they, and I had to work if I wanted any spending money of my own. So the permission was given, I found this bike in the Amarillo newspaper, and I made the deal. Dad took me to get it in his lime green ’59 Ford pick-up.
The first thing I did was add a set of Bates mirrors on the recommendation of Darwin Floyd (more about Darwin later). They were flat mirrors cost about $4.00 each. Back in 68 that was a very expensive mirror for a bike.
Another early modification that had to be done was repair of the kick-starter. It had been poorly welded before I purchased the bike and the owner had assured me that it was professionally done (What a crock). Anyway, one of my good friends and riding buddy, Henry Lingenfelter lived on a farm and said his father was a very good welder, so I drove out to their place about seven miles East of Panhandle on Hwy. 60.
Walter first used a torch to clean up the mess left by the last guy, and when he had remove all of the excess slag and the like we discovered that the shaft was only about half there. That made the new welding job more of a challenge. Walter gave it his best shot, not once but three times. Each time the kick starter held-up for about two or three weeks. After that I just got used to push starting the little beast. It was not that hard to run along side with it in gear and the clutch pulled in, and then when I had enough speed up, hop on and pop the clutch. I got so good at this technique that I could usually get started before the guys who had working kick-starters, but was no match for those with electric starters. What the hey, I was young, 14, and strong, and just considered it another part of staying in shape to play football.
On a side note, several years later Walter Lingenfelter was killed in a car/train accident out where he lived on the farm East of Panhandle. I believe it was 1978 while I was living in Lubbock with Mark Reynolds at the University Arms apartment complex. Walter had always treated all of Henry’s friends as if they were his own kids, probably better than most of their own dads treated them (that was the case with me anyway). He will never be forgotten.
That first summer I used the 90 to commute back and forth from Panhandle to the Stucky’s candy shop/gas station in Conway where I worked as a station attendant. That little bike would run 60mph on a good day and easily got me to and from work on a daily basis.
Not too long into that summer I quit Stucky’s and went to work for L.R. Copeland, a retired Air Force Colonel who farmed a half section of land about four miles East of Panhandle. Again the 90 came through as a great little machine. I even used it when Danny May and I both had to get to Copeland’s to buck bales each time his 50 or so acres of alfalfa was cut and baled. Of course it would only run about 50-55 with two of us on it. We both probably weighed about 110 pounds back then though.
Neither of us could afford a real helmet at the time so we used construction hard hats that we held on with shoestrings: Got kind of painful after a while. By mid summer I had enough money to buy a cheap helmet $15.00; thought I was pretty cool too.
Until we both had helmets, we would take the long way around town making a twenty-mile trip out of what should have been only seven. We thought we were fooling the cops that way. Little did we realize that they knew the scam all along but left us alone because they knew we needed the jobs and that was the only way we could get to and from work. I found that out later when we matured enough to not be afraid of them and got to know them as normal guys.
Another memorable time on the 90 was when I got a real ***-chewing from the school superintendent for having it parked on the old dirt running track at the high school. A bunch of us guys were up there playing flag football and he came along with a chip on his shoulder about something. Anyway they all had vehicles parked on the track but I was the only one he really singled out. I think he just hated bikes and anyone who rode them. Sweet revenge though, a few weeks later, I took one of his daughters for a ride into the country where we made out for a couple of hours. Seems like the only other girl I ever took on the 90 was my first love, Lana McCaskey, the most beautiful blonde in world; or so I thought at the time.
So, how did I learn to ride? I don’t really recall, it just sort of came naturally after some brief instructions from my oldest brother, I think. I just seemed to take to it like a duck in water.
I did get some very good instructions, or some might consider them orders from our local “Arthur Fonzarelli,” Darwin Floyd. As I mentioned earlier, he was dating my good buddy’s sister, Julie Lingenfelter. Julie was Henry’s sister.
I believe Henry got a bike (blue Yamaha 250) shortly after I did and it was not long before we started riding together and Darwin kind of took us under his wing to make sure we learned to ride safely from the very beginning. He would take us out on the back roads around the Lingenfelter farm and teach us all about counter-steering, obstacle avoidance, quick stops, pretty much most everything you might learn in an MSF class today.
I had always been pretty mature minded for my age and took a real liking to Darwin for having cared enough to spend time with us younger guys like that. I suppose the safety stuff he taught me back in 1968 has probably saved my life more than once. Of course I did a lot of reading and practicing on my own back in those days too.
I kept that little Honda 90 for about two years and logged up approximately 12,000 miles on it. But it was getting old having the smallest bike in the group of guys that I had come to hang out with.
