What was your first "big kid" bike?

[camera56]

If you've somehow missed it, I've been blogging away at midliferider about the subject of motorcycle riding and ownership at midlife. Along the way, the subject of "my first bike" has come up. Malve wrote about it. A couple of my buddies have sent me fun stories about their first bike. So what's yours?

In my case, I just can't conjure up a lot of detail, so I asked me dad. This is a snip from what he wrote me . . .

Even the small red bike was too big for Kevin, but because he was so determined to ride it, I had to find a way to help. I had to hold the bike carefully and get him up on the seat while at the same time getting him started, and off he would go. At first I ran alongside him to be sure he was all right, but very quickly, he wanted no part of that. I may have been concerned about this little kid hitting something, skidding, or skinning his knees, elbows and chin, and that happened, but some-times bloody Kevin wanted to be helped up and pushed off so that he could move forward at top speed by himself.

However, stopping was another thing altogether. He wanted to ride his bike as fast as he could long before he figured out how to stop it (brakes seemed to be of no interest to him). It may have been that he was too short to be able to stop and then let one of his feet hit the ground, because if he did that the whole thing would fall over on top of him.

So, on many a balmy evening, he would want to ride his bike, especially when neighbors were around (he was something of a show-off even then). Our neighborhood was laid out in a kind of oval, so he could ride around without having to turn around. So, he would come lickity-split down the street shouting at the top of his lungs “ Daddy catch –me, catch-me.” And for the longest time, I did that, although sometimes he was coming so fast that I couldn’t stop him or could not do it correctly, and he would wind up in a pile at my feet. My friends and neighbors got used to this, but I never quite did. I guess that I would not have been apprehensive about it had it been someone else’s first born son, but to me this exercise, which often went on for hours and involved a great many pleas to “catch-me,” was scary then, although it is funny and charming all these years later.

I've got a bunch of these I'm going to put up on the blog. You can read the rest of mine at midliferider. But enough of that . . .

Let's here the story of your first big-kid bike!

 

[artistonFJR]

It was a bike my dad bought from Steve Hythecker's dad. Steve got a new one. It was a gold Schwinn (I believe it was actually spray painted gold, as I remember the front metal badge was oversprayed) with a white banana seat and a sissy bar. The hand grips were white but stained yellow and a bit eroded from weather and tipovers (where the hell were you then, Skyway!?). I loved it. Dad ran his back into the ground following me up and down the sidewalks. About a year later I sold it and got my FJR. Just kidding. This was back in, oh, '67, maybe '68.

Steve, you out there buddy? Thanks for the cool bike!

C

 

[wfooshee]

My FJR is my first bike. Previous riding was always somebody else's bike: brother's, friend's, son's, somebody's.

 

[feejer222]

My dad was a traffic cop for a period of his life and although he didn't specificy, he said he had seen too many bad bike accidents and that I would never have one. I cringe at the thought of all the worry I must have caused him over the years.

It all started when I was 13. A couple of older lads had 'field bikes' I had been to the 'field' with them and was totally hooked. Although I knew what the answer would be I asked my parents for a dirt bike but was turend down flat. I wrote to Maico (West German motocross manufacturer), and asked if they could help out. They very kindly wrote back explaining that I should accumulate some results first then they would talk to me. Wish I'd kept that letter!

I was desperate and when one of the older lads said they were selling, I worked at washing cars every weekend and saved my pocket money to buy it. It was a BSA Bantam, a 125cc 2 stroke single. I paid £8 up front and agreed to pay off the remaining £2 ($4) weekly at 5 shillings a week (25 pence or 50cents).

The bike was to be kept at my mates house, who's parents were more relaxed over the whole thing.

I was a biker at last! One Saturday morning, knowing my dad was out, I went round to my mates house and let myself into the garage (which was the arrangement) to look at my pride and joy. I sat on the bike and opened and closed the fuel cap, twisted the throttle, pulled in the clutch and bounced the suspension. I couldn't stop there though, I decided that no harm would be done if I had a quick go in the street. I wheeled the beast out and commenced to bump start the little 125, which to me at that time was huge.

I knew little about engines and as much as I pushed all I could get out of it was the occasional pop and bang. My efforts took me down the street and in the general direction of my own road. The problem turned out to be water in the fuel. It allowed the engine to start then cut out, I didn't have a clue and got the bike going for 60 yards in every 100. I got to the top of my own street which was a steep hill. We lived half way down the hill and our drive went up from the road steeply with the garage at the top. I imagined that the hill would be the answer to my problem and pushed with all my might from the top and jumped aboard.

With the fuel tap at the rear of the tank, I realise now that the water inside, would have run to the front as the bike was heading down hill. (Water is heavier than gas and settles in the bottom of the tank). The engine picked up and I was away, tearing down the hill in first gear. Then the throttle stuck....the water again I am guessing now, on the slide of the old Amal carb, but at the time I didn't have a clue why it was doing it or what to do about my new problem.

I grabbed at the front brake....which was worse than useless and didn't make any difference as the speed gathered at an incredible rate as my little bright red ex-Post Office 'Billy Bantam' careered down the hill with me flapping in the wind behind it.

It was my very first (of many) heart stopping experience on a motorcycle. Probably the first time I ever had that metalic taste of adrenaline in my mouth.

I was half way down the hill and by now completely out of control. I looked ahead 200 yards to the bottom of the hill. It was a tight bend, and a brick garden wall skirted the outside of the bend. All I could think of was how much trouble I would be in if I demolished that wall. Getting hurt, in my jeans and tee shirt with no helmet or gloves even, never crossed my mind.

In a split second decision as I got to the gate of my own house I threw the bike to the right and turned up my own front drive hoping the steep drive would cancel out my speed. It didn't. I reached the top of the drive at I would guess 20-30mph. The heavy cedar garage doors confronted me like the west face of the Eiger. I hit them smack in the middle and burst them open inwards, they were designed to open outwards.

As they were new-ish heavy timber doors, they withstood the onslaught and opened inwards just enough for the front end of my bike to pass through and trap the bike behind the bars and infront of the tank. It was wedged tight, the doors would not open any further inwards to release it nor would the bike come out the way it had gone in. I was unscathed, just cuts and bruises, not that I felt any of them. My concentration was on getting the bike out before my mum came out or worse still my dad came home.

I didn't manage it, and it took my dad all his strength with the help of 2 neighbours to free the bike. I convinced my parents that it was my mates bike and I had borrowed it. I came out of the whole thing much more lightly than I thought I would. I told my dad what had happened and he was more interested in what had caused the throttle to stick than what I was doing on the bike.

And that was my first experience on a motorcycle.

 

[cptngym]

1979 CB750F Then to 1100 Suzuki's

 

[camera56]

Wunnerful story Feejer.

Actually, I may need to ask the question again. I'm interested in when you were a little guy and got that first bicycle . . . your first taste of freedom. But all stories welcome.

 

[MrTwisty]

As a child, I always wanted a motorcycle, but my parents did not want me to have one because they are too dangerous.

When I turned 16 and got my first job, the first thing I bought was a Suzuki 185 from a friend of mine down the street.

It wasn't much of a motorcycle, but it was mine.

My parents let me keep it, but they were not happy.

 

[FJRBluesman]

My father was not a motorcycle rider and I had many friends with dirt bikes and I've been riding those since a teenager. Got my street license at 15.

A guy I new, his father had an old mid 70's Kawasaki 1000. When I felt the incredible power of that I was hooked for a street bike.

I started off small though I bought a brand new 1980 Suzuki GS550. I moved up in a few years to a 1987 Suzuki GSXR1100. Now that was my truly big bike! I haven't owned anything less than 900cc since….. Well I have but they were fun project bikes, old 1960's Triumph's, and a 1976 H1 triple. Fun stuff like that.

 

[timalan]

I wanted a motorcycle as far back as I can remember. I used to sit in the back seat of the car and daydream I was riding the ditches on a dirt bike RM80 that is what I wanted. When I figured it out. Parents would not let me have one. My dad didn't ride. But my desire was there. I figured out later that my dads entire family. All my aunts and Uncles had bikes and always had them at the lake. My sister has a huge permanent scar from exhaust burn from a trail 70. She was three so, I was less than 1 when I rode with Uncle. (that is where I got it).... My dad finally Gave into me when I wanted to trade my Saxophone... I got a steel framed No shock, wooden seat minibike that threw the chain all the freekin time. I do know how to put a chain back on a minibike. Mom said no street riding. One day, I was 14, I already had bought my first Truck.(kansas, you can drive anything at 14) Yes, I bought it. I had a job. Anyway, Dad came home and said a guy at work had a barely used 185 Honda Twinstar. Mom went ballistic and said absolutely not. I went to the bank with dad(yes small town bank) Gave me a loan (at 14) with dads cosign. I got the 185 the next day.... Moms know best... my ass.... Dad knows best. And always has. Then a yamaha 650 then a pregnant wife.... Me her and the unborn child only had a motorcycle..... So I sold it and bought a car. 18 years passed. I bought a concours. rode it 35k miles Then fell for Fiona (FJR) and Then Spyderpig caught my eye. If anymore catch my eye and wallet at the same time.... I could be in trouble. Tims motorcycles in a paragraph.

 

[exskibum]

Well, after I got my first taste on a friend of my Dad's Tiger Cub 200 (lowered for his kids), we had a couple Honda 90s with centrifugal clutches that my Dad, Mom, sister and I rode, mostly me, and maybe next, my sister. I'm not counting those.

In '68, I came home from school to find a yellow '66 (I think) Triumph Tiger Cub 200 in the garage. I later found out it had been a basket case that a friend of my Dad's (fellow fireman known as "Tiny" -- yep, built HDs and was huge) had rebuilt, kinda stripped down as a dirt bike. We lived on an orange grove on a dirt street at the end of which was trails and hills.

It didn't take me very long to figure out the switch (no key) and get it started. Took off for a ride into the hills and got about as close as I have ever come to getting killed on a bike, somehow just squeezing between a power pole at the apex of a turn and a big green old ('49 or so?) Chevy or Buick coming toward me. I remember shaking all the way home, cleaning the bike up and going in to sit on the couch and watch TV until my parents got home a few hours later. Never said a word about my stupidity or riding it, except to say that I'd seen the bike in the garage, and let my Dad tell me about it and show me how it was wired to be started. For the day, that was a fun bike for a 16 year old in the hills -- a 200cc Thumper.

 

[Bugnatr]

1969 New $99.00 (I paid Dad back) 3.5 hp brigs & stratton mini bike. You know, no suspension just a frame, box seat, centrifugal clutch, tires and motor. A shoe type lever on the rear tire for the only braking power. But let me tell ya once I removed the muffler and spring that acted as a governor, that little baby could tear em' up! Only the rich kids had things like Honda 90's etc.

 

[wfooshee]

Since you clarified for bicycles, I would say when I was 9, believe it or not. I didn't have a bike before that, but I had a killer tricycle when I was 5 or 6. Back then they were the tall, literally killer tricycles, steel seat, steel frame, steel wheels, steel bars. Usually an 8 or 10 inch front wheel, but mine was 16 inches, special big model! My sister would stand on the little steps on the rear axle and hold my shoulders, and I would pedal it around the driveway.

When I was 7 we went overseas. My dad's company was a contractor, and he was with a group supporting Sergeant missiles. Kids there rode stand-up push scooters, much like todays Razor scooters except they had pneumatic tires about 8 inches or so, and a little thumb bell on the handlebar, so that's what we had.

When we came back to the states we moved to Baltimore, his company's headquarters, and that's where I got my first actual bicycle. It had the curved top tube with the two smaller tubes alongside as braces, and they extended past the headtube and carried a headlight that never worked. Single speed, coaster brake. With that I discovered the freedom of the road. I could go anywhere I wanted (without crossing major roads!) so I was a free man! When I got hungry I went home. And the major road boundary gave me about 4 blocks any direction from the house. . . .

As for freedom, as I grew, I grew brave, and found that what Mom didn't know wouldn't hurt her. When we got to Florida and I got a 10-speed (Ooooh! Ahhh!) I went everywhere I needed to go. School, work, fun, band practice, football practice, baseball practice, friend's house, wherever. Didn't have a car, but I didn't need my mommy to take me anywhere, either. I was a free man!

Mom was amazed when she realized how much I rode. I logged my trips on a calendar and tracked the miles with one of those clicker counters on the front wheel. 100 miles a week was a good average through high school. On Saturdays I'd ride to the beach, swim, and ride home. When I started talking about how many counties I went through on a ride she tried to put a foot down and tell me I needed to stay closer to home, just in case. I never understood what "case."

College was the same, only more, and hilly, and colder. My only serious bike accidents happened in Auburn. I separated a shoulder falling on ice. I trashed a front wheel and fork dodging a car that ran a stop sign and ended up not quite jumping a curb. I went over the bars and did a perfect shoulder roll and stood up jogging out of it! He replaced all the broken parts cheerfully; he thought he'd killed me. And another one was another stop sign runner, I clipped the back of the car with my left handlebar and went down hard, still have a nice scar on the side of my left hand, my only road rash ever. He didn't stop, so I hope he (she) rots in hell forever! That was a cold day so I was bundled, otherwise I'd have had some skin missing from my arm and shoulder, too.

I didn't own a car until I was 27, and got a job that required me to be presentable when I arrived, not an easy task on a bicycle in this heat. By a remarkable coincidence, that's about the time I crossed 200 pounds for good, and ended up in the top half of the 200's. I might have been fit when I was a kid, but I was never "strong" or "athletic." I never had any upper body strength, and always missed out on the Presidential Physical Fitness badges because I couldn't do chin-ups. Not a single one. But I could leg press 880 pounds on the Hercules gym machine we had in my 9th-grade PE class! In high school there was a rig that you pulled up in a shoulder harness against an electronic device in the floor. I beat half a ton on that machine! Still couldn't pull my chin up to a bar, or curl more than 40 or 50 pounds! Something about which muscles are used on the bike. . . . And I must say, my legs looked fine in those tight double-knits of the day, before the cuffed baggy plaids became all the rage!

 

[Silver Penguin]

From being about three years old to being around seven or so, I had a tricycle with big wheels that I apparently loved, and clocked a lot of miles riding alongside the pram in which Mum pushed the baby. Then I got a used, big kid bike. It didn't have training wheels (or stabilisers, as they were know back then). I hated that bike with a passion, and wanted my trike back, but I'd grown too big for it. It was only with the greatest of difficulty that I reluctantly mastered the skill of riding on two wheels.

After that experience, I learned that a bicycle meant freedom to roam a lot further than on foot. My parents were not the chauffeuring type so anywhere I wanted to go, I pedalled my bike. During my teen years, I rode at least 100 miles a week, just going to school and social stuff. I learned to love the bike.

When I was sixteen, the bicycle was put away, to be used only for riding to and from school (because Mom and Dad ruled that it was not suitable for me to ride a moped to school). I kept the bicycle until after the motorcycling part of my life had passed. During my pregnancy, I renewed the joys of riding a bicycle, for both exercise and for transportation. (Didn't care for driving a car at all. Preferred the cycle). Later, I had a baby seat bolted on the bike and the two of us went places together.

These days, the only bicycle I ride is fastened to the floor, in an air conditioned gym, but those early skills serve me well, on the other two wheelers that I enjoy riding.

Jill

 

[painman]

Like some others here, when I was a youngster my parents forbid me to ride anything on two wheels except a bicycle. Little did they know I was out riding anything I could get my hands on that had two wheels and a motor. What was really nice I had alot of friends who rode dirt and on the street. Needless to say I was gaining experience in both. And what was real nice, one of my best friends older brother who rode dirt bikes as well was good friends of a man who owned a Honda dealership in Walnut Creek close to where I live who would take out the latest dirt models to Carnige Park near Livermore which was not a park then but some killer hill climbs and trails and he would let me "test" ride the new dirt bikes because he knew I didn't have a bike and I thought my parents sucked because of it. (Not really though, just the way 14 year olds think).

That was the late 60's and it wasn't until 1973 that I was 18 and now had some dollars to buy "my very own" bike. It was a 1973 Yamaha 360 Enduro. A virtual rocketship with knobby tires and not much of a seat. It had hardly no suspension and the vibration would blur out your vision, but who cares when your that young and its "your" bike. Yes the mochine nearly got me killed several times with that quick torquey 2 cycle engine. But that baby would climb near vertical mountains, do goat trails and any other type terrian with no problems. But the main thing, I was cool and nothing else mattered. PM. ><> :yahoo:

 

[madmike2]

Uhm...probably dating myself, but "big kid's bikes" are all there were when I started riding on 2-wheels. IIRC, I had a 24" bike. For Christmas while I was in the 5th grade, I got a 3-speed English-type bike with "hand brakes". Really big time! I saved my money from chores and odd-jobs, and in 7th grade I bought a used Schwinn from a family friend...you know the one with the Springer front end, Rams-horn riser bars and the horn-in-the-tank.

When I was a Junior in High School, Dad came home with a Parilla 250 Scrambler (when all my friends had Honda 50s and a Honda 90 was the "new technology")...life has never been the same!

 

[camera56]

Excellent stories!

 

[feejer222]

Great thread Camera. Sorry I missed the point about pedal bikes.

My first pedal bike was a 3 wheeler with its own boot (trunk), bright yellow and much loved. As my social circle grew and I mixed with the kids in the next street I looked at their 2 wheeler's with envious eyes and eventually my constant asking was rewarded on my 6th (?) Christmas with a Triang. It was Red with white mudguards, solid tyres and stabilisers (trainer wheels). I rode it like a loonatic. As I mentioned in my first post, we lived on a steep hill, the obvious thing to do was see how fast I could go. I remember one encounter in particular with the garden wall at the bottom of the hill, just about getting round the bend but grinding my fingers against the wall. I grew to hate that wall! I remember getting many lectures about going too fast....at 7 years old!

I pleaded with my dad to remove the stabilisers almost as soon as I got the thing and he refused saying I needed them. Eventually he agreed to let me 'try' it without them. He struggled with the access to turn the nuts and skinned his knuckle, which caused much cursing. By the time he got them off he was not happy. I thanked him and threw a leg over the tiny bike. I started pedaling and tore off up the street without a problem. I stopped at the top and looked back to see him stood watching with a huge grin on his face.

Later I had many pedal bikes, usually 2 at a time, one for best and a 'tracker' as we called them for the fields. I had lots and lots ....and lots of escapades, and crashes. I had a car pull out on me whilst going flat out down a hill. I tee-boned him reduced the length of my bike by 3 feet and was thrown up and onto the roof face first. I got a black and blue face and a shiny new 10 speed racer out of that one. (Which was later stolen). I had another big one going round the bend at the bottom of my street no-handed, the front wheel hit something in the road and turned 90 degrees. I ended up with a fractured skull. I also had years of fun on pedal bikes and obviously laid the seeds for a life of motorcycling.

 

[TriggerT]

My first bike was a '98 V-Max. I wanted it, I could afford it, so I bought it. Nothing like learning on a 1200cc monster.

 

[El Toro Joe]

First big bike was a 1973 HD 1200 FX shovelhead...no electric start, got it in 1977, rode the hell out of that bike.