Snow is falling softly on the roof of my old trailer...it makes a hissing sound as it does and lulls me back into memories of a lifetime ago. Recent posts have got me to thinking about putting the Goldwing back on the road. Been quite a spell since I've shared time with her. I wade thru the snow and go down yonder to the garage..she sets there covered in dust..the cats are using the seat for a resting place. I twaddle about and find the keys but the battery is long dead. So I just set on her ample seat and recall times of years gone by...another lifetime ago. A 1965 Sears Allstate Mo-Ped was my first bike...covered a lot of miles on that little 50cc. scooter at age 11. Still have the owners manual!! Moved to Texas and got my license at 14...rode a Honda SL100 and a 305 Scrambler all over Garland, Richardson and Dallas back then. Came back to Pa. about 1973 and graduated high-school. Bought a Norton 750 Commando with more horsepower than I had common sense. Learned how to "tickle" those Amal carbs and not break my leg kick-starting it after a while. Managed to hit 137m.p.h. on that bike one day...tucked in against the gastank and legs pointed straight back over the tail-light. Youthfull ignorance and a radar gun proved my point..whatever it was. (sigh) A succession of bikes followed. Took up trail riding/trials and moto-cross. Never was much good at any of them but had a great time. Got back into street riding about the mid '70's and me and my brothers and some friends decided to go on tour every summer after that. Rode up to Bangor, Maine one June. It rained from the day we left until we returned 10 days later. I recall lightening hit our campsite up in Vermont. I was deef and blind for about 3 hours. On the way home we got lost on the N.Y. Freeway and took the exit for the N.J. Turnpike and the police escorted us off. Motorcycles warn't allowed on the N.J. Turnpike back then. Snow is still falling and I pick up some old photo albums..of a lifetime ago. Audie...the oldfart..

 

Turning the pages of that photo album I find a coupl'a snapshots. One is my passenger...a stunning red-haired girl as viewed when her image was captured in the rear-view mirrow of the Suzuki GS750. We are screaming down off Skyline Drive on Rt. 250 heading for Staunton, Va. The tach is in the redline and the speedo reads about 125m.p.h. in the photo taken over my shoulder. She had auburn hair that reached her ankles and a smile that would make most mere mortal men weep. A tiny wisp of a young woman...and that was a lifetime ago. I remember riding thru Kings Mt., Georgia and pulling the bike to the berm and laying it down against the soft hillside and falling asleep in the saddle..too tired to go further. And waking up the next morning and pointing the bike south..towards Florida. The next photo is a motley group of riders in front of the "Welcome To Florida" sign. The close-up reveals 4 men with their pants down around their ankles exposing the blisters we had aquired on our backsides. It was not a purty sight! And it was a lifetime ago. Another photo reveals my big brother Art and his KZ900 laden down with enough plunder to outfit a caravan. We were crossing the Chesapeke Bay Bridge Tunnel heading toward Va. Beach, Va. The K.O.A Campground in Va. Beach made us stay out in the "over-flow camping area" at that time. No motorcycles allowed..even though we had paid reservations!! The "over-flow camping area" was, by the way..where the dump-station was for the other folks. But then..that was a lifetime ago. Audie..still remembering..

 

The snow is still falling and the hissss it makes on the roof finally brings me from my dreams. Perhaps this summer I will return the 'Wing to where she belongs. I miss the sound of the air as it rushes past my face...the delight of leaning into the turns and seeing the road rush up to meet me. I miss the warmth of the sun on my wrinkled mug and the soft warm drawl of southern wimminfolks as they pour me a cupp'a coffee and welcome me to Nawth Car-O-Lina' or Gawga' or Vah-gin-yah' or where-ever. Audie..lost in a lifetime ago...

 

oldfart, you graduated in '73? That would make you what, about 50-55? I don't think you deserve the name 'oldfart' just yet. My girlfriend's grandpap turned 80 a few months ago and still rides his Honda Rebel every day. Was all for me getting a bike until I told him I got the Ninja. His exact words were "Why'd you get that? You're gonna break your back on that thing."

...maybe I should start calling him the oldfart. But then again, he'd probably smack me upside the head with his helmet.

 

Man, I like to see a man who thinks back, and gives to others the tales of other decades. We blew through the seventies, eighties, nineties, and they were just back there behind us all of a sudden...

Big trucks, little trucks, big cars, little cars, SPEED LIMITS that were mandated by BUTTHOLES in office! no relation to efficiency, and years later trucks that don't run for crap because the gearing is screwed up over that....

Nuthin' sucks worse than a Diesel that won't gitty up over fifty five because of the rev limitations on the engine and trans! So you watch people pass, hear the horns honking, flip the bird and drive on...

WHEN IT WAS DOUBLE NICKLE, we ran at NIGHT - DIDN'T WE?

"The night time is the right time" is a famous quote that came out of that. In the late seventies I was in a convoy of trucks in a Datsun 1200 running 120 MPH all the way from Knoxville to Charlotte WVA, and NONE of gave a rats behind....

 

Aye fellers them days is long past. I'm older now and mebbe smarter...or not. Speed doesn't thrill me like is used to and my reflexes is slowed a bit ( read..a lot!) since then. Todays bikes are so much faster, agile and more precise. Now they are like scalpels compared to the old hammers we used to swing. (sigh) Back then frames flexed and shocks were a joke. The British bikes handled well up to "the ton" (100m.p.h.) limit. So called "American bikes" couldn't do 100 even on a downhill with a good tail-wind. Back then the KZ900 was The King at 80h.p. Nowadays most 600cc. bikes would eat them for lunch. I did have a fair ride though...got to whack the throttle on one of the first MachIII Kawasaki's back then. Holy poop! The smell of 2 cycle oil and rear tire evaporating as the front end went skyward and my arms were pulled from the sockets! Sliding back on the seat so hard it took all the spincter-suction I had to hold on to the seat and keeping my feet on the pegs was impossible! The r.p.m.'s were incredible..the scream of the engine as it came on the powerband and pulled my grinning lips to the back of my head...undescribable!! I thought life couldn't get much better than that..a lifetime ago. This past summer a friend (?) (giggle!) let me straddle his Hayabusa. Yes...The Blackbird. My friends, until you have done it..you haven't lived. Imagine a bike that is so well conceived that it rides around town like a mo-ped..silent and well mannered..well bred and calm. Now find an open road and swallow hard..and hit that throttle. At 150m.p.h. shift into 4th. gear and feel the front wheel lift. At 180...do it again in 5th. gear. And the party ain't over yet. Some folks say "We don't need this kind'a horsepower or speed!" Nope..they're right...we don't. Mebbe we should all be riding in what sounds like a herd of flatulent elephants...potato/potatoe/potatoe. Me...I feel the need for something bright red and scary-fast. Might be time to trade in that Goldwing...eh? JMHO..of course. Audie...

 

Aye Weeds...born in 1956 I was. But don't let the years fool ye. I've been rode hard and put away wet...I look a whole lot older than my years might proclaim. I been thru 2 marriages and a whole lot worse. I've seen some of the worse of humanities and, on occassion, some of the best. I've seen high-times and been homeless...'twarn't that big a difference really. I've found that blood is sometimes a helluva lot thinner than water and sometimes friends stick by ye more than family. Not always..but sometimes. And I've found out that no one can hurt ye more than someone that knows ye well. (A word to the wise my friend. ) Harrumph..now as far as that ole geezer a'warning you about riding a "Ninja" ....horse-hockey! Weeds..there's no more natural position than hunkered down like a monkey o'er a football...smiling. Eh? (big grin here!!) Ride on my friend..ride on. Audie..the oldfart...

 

We're riding a new concept now, and improving on old ideas is how that came to be.

Bubba - you've got two years on me. The Harley of my dreams is a 58 or 59 panhead because it would have rolled out about the time I slid out...

Be a toss-up which of us was crankier though!

(winkezzz)