Those looking at the R18 as a first motorcycle got me thinking about my first bike and the events surrounding that purchase. It’s not pretty. The older, wiser version of me thinks I was a complete jackass.
Ok
It was 1998. The bike was a 1996 Harley Davidson Sportster 1200 XLC. Black. I found it in a newspaper. I was in college and didn’t know how to ride. I had never even been on a motorcycle. I remember thinking “how hard can it be?” I had been saving money for a car but, for inexplicable reasons, an overpriced Harley seemed like the more responsible purchase. In Wisconsin. Where we have winter. Every year.
I rented a uHaul pickup and drove from Madison to Sheboygan to buy it. The seller and I loaded the bike then he asked about tie down straps. I showed him rope. Rope! He says that won’t do and the two of us go to Walmart to buy ratcheting straps. He ratchets the bike down and off I go.
About half way home I realized that I have no way to unload the bike. No ramp. No buddies lined up to help. I could leave it on the pickup and unload the next day? But classes and paying for another days rental, what’s that $35? Nah, I got this. Just need to find a suitable ditch….there! I backed the pickup into a ditch, opened the gate, straddled the bike, released the straps, and rolled right off like I’d done it a dozen times. I still have no idea how it worked so well.
So picture this: it’s dark, about 9pm, and I’m on my new (used) 1200 cc Harley in the empty parking lot of a Menards. And it just started sprinkling too. I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle but I do understand how a clutch works. I’m squeezing levers and pushing peddles and getting a feel for things. Deep breath. Don’t fear the reaper. I start her up. Ok that’s loud. Grin. Click into gear, ease off the clutch, and we’re moving! It’s jerky and awkward but I’m riding! Come to a stop. Start again. Repeat. I spent about an hour cruising around that Menards parking lot in the rain.
To sum up: One bad decision after another with complete lack of foresight and disregard for consequences too. My undeveloped brain on full display! But so began a love affair with motorcycling.
So fellow R18 brothers and sisters, what’s your motorcycling origin story?
Ok
It was 1998. The bike was a 1996 Harley Davidson Sportster 1200 XLC. Black. I found it in a newspaper. I was in college and didn’t know how to ride. I had never even been on a motorcycle. I remember thinking “how hard can it be?” I had been saving money for a car but, for inexplicable reasons, an overpriced Harley seemed like the more responsible purchase. In Wisconsin. Where we have winter. Every year.
I rented a uHaul pickup and drove from Madison to Sheboygan to buy it. The seller and I loaded the bike then he asked about tie down straps. I showed him rope. Rope! He says that won’t do and the two of us go to Walmart to buy ratcheting straps. He ratchets the bike down and off I go.
About half way home I realized that I have no way to unload the bike. No ramp. No buddies lined up to help. I could leave it on the pickup and unload the next day? But classes and paying for another days rental, what’s that $35? Nah, I got this. Just need to find a suitable ditch….there! I backed the pickup into a ditch, opened the gate, straddled the bike, released the straps, and rolled right off like I’d done it a dozen times. I still have no idea how it worked so well.
So picture this: it’s dark, about 9pm, and I’m on my new (used) 1200 cc Harley in the empty parking lot of a Menards. And it just started sprinkling too. I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle but I do understand how a clutch works. I’m squeezing levers and pushing peddles and getting a feel for things. Deep breath. Don’t fear the reaper. I start her up. Ok that’s loud. Grin. Click into gear, ease off the clutch, and we’re moving! It’s jerky and awkward but I’m riding! Come to a stop. Start again. Repeat. I spent about an hour cruising around that Menards parking lot in the rain.
To sum up: One bad decision after another with complete lack of foresight and disregard for consequences too. My undeveloped brain on full display! But so began a love affair with motorcycling.
So fellow R18 brothers and sisters, what’s your motorcycling origin story?
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