Category Archives: musings

community

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I write a lot about what I like about motorcycling and why I got into it and what keeps me interested in riding. One of the things that has always been a fantastic part of being into motorcycles is the motorcycling community.

Now, I suppose any “hobby” or lifestyle or what-have-you has this same thing and that’s one of the things that keeps people together as a group and entices people to join in the fun. But since my proclivities tend toward the motarized two-wheeled kind, I am a bit biased.

Mind you, I am writing this after four hours of sleep and some wine, so please pardon my mumblings.

I recently picked up a new project. One of the things about me is that my eyes are often bigger than my abilities. I am not a fabricator, nor am I a machinist. I am an okay mechanic when I can quiet the chatter in my head, but that often doesn’t happen before I get frustrated.

Tonight, I was talking with a few friends about this tendency of mine. Their response was that we are all motorcyclists and we help each other out. “Ask us for what you need help with and we’ll be there,” was the consensus.

This is one of the things that draws me back, over and over, to being part of a community. I have made some of my closest friends while standing around in freezing garages or sweating in the 112°F heat tinkering with a motorcycle.

Thank you.

building a bike in my mind

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Vintage motorcycling is a disease. We are addicts and even unemployment can’t staunch our cravings and impulsive endeavors. We spend hours pouring over Ebay and on motorcycle forums for parts and ideas of how to better our creations.

I enjoy the street-tracker look and I can appreciate some choppers and bobbers, but my first love was and continues to be the café racer. It’s gained popularity over the past few years and for a good reason; function and form tied together in one perfect motorcycle.

One of the things that is so great about bike building is it is not just a mechanical job, but it is a true artistic undertaking. No one café bike is like the other.

I was going to go on a 24hour round trip mad dash to pick up a 1974 Yamaha RD350 and see a cluster of old friends along the way, but it worked out better (read: more economically) to have the bike shipped to me.

I am looking forward to getting my new-to-me bike in the garage. In my imagination, I’ve already fit the bike with four or five different seat configurations, clip-ons, chambered pipes and a few other modifications. It’s a new project, something to contemplate in the garage on sleepless nights and tinker with during the long, hot days. Hopefully soon, it will cease to be just another RD, and will become a work of art…that I will take on the race track.

small world

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Today I made a new friend, who happened to know an old friend who I haven’t communicated with in many years. Six degrees of separation….

I was looking to buy a motorcycle that a guy posted on a forum. The bike is on the other side of the U.S. Through conversations emailed and ‘texted’, we discovered we had a mutual friend – a fellow I lost touch with many years ago.

I’m still giggling about this. I find syncronicities like this to be wonderful. Another friend of mine doesn’t find it all that amusing, just logical: it’s a vintage bike, and a specific one at that. It’s a small community of fanatics. We are likely to cross-paths on occasion.

My pop used to say that when you lose your wonderment, or surprise at how things work, you have become a cynic.

So, my friend is a cynic and I am happy to burble along in wonderment at how things happen.

This kind of synchronicity is one of the reasons I love the motorcycle community (vintage especially). There is a certain type of person drawn to riding, and a very specific type who is into vintage bikes, and an even more specific type who is into vintage two-stroke motorcycles. They are a bunch of weirdos. Who else but a freak would love smelly, smoky, noisy, finicky bikes with spindly frames and way too much power to weight ratio? We tend to recognize each other.

These motorcycles strum some chord inside me. The classic ring-a-ding-ding of a tuned two-stroke is music to my ears. It speaks loudly of demented speed on the light frames and narrow tires. There is a devilish grin that takes hold of me when I ride one of these bikes. I think anyone who rides RD’s, or TZ’s or those mad Kawasaki triples knows the wild-eyed crazy that takes over the brain once foot connects with kick-starter.

So, “to all my friends”, as Mickey Rourke’s character in Barfly would say while hoisting a whiskey into the air. May the wind be at your back, and your roads be twisty.