'07 Suzuki DL650 Vstrom
"The Devil" Blue '92 Honda CB750 Nighthawk. It used to be Rico's but then the taillight busted and we had to get him a new bike. He got a new bike, I got the new taillight, it all worked out.
The street is a new and somewhat terrifying place for me, but it's a good kind of terror.
So we have to go back in time...
My earliest camping memories are all of coveting the Honda SL70s that my older siblings and cousins would give me rides on. By the time I was big enough to ride by myself they had all but disintegrated, one had been given to a friend of the family and he rebuilt it for his son. I still coveted from afar.
When I was 11 dad showed up at our campsite in his 1966 Dynamic 88, I remember being disappointed that he hadn't brought the truck with a bike in it, see I'd been doing some pleading, and dad's always been a sucker for my pleading.
He called me over to help him unload the trunk and when we opened it there lay a Yamaha 80. IN THE TRUNK OF THE CAR. He'd picked it up for $50 at a garage sale on the way. MY OWN BIKE. MY OWN BIKE. MY OWN BIKE.
It had a sliver tank with a purple stripe on it, which I always thought was a little "girl" and fantasized about replacing the purple with a lovely forrest green. The bike came out, instructions on it's operation were given, my oldest brother ran along side me, shouting as I took off. "PULL IN THE CLUTCH! PULL IN THE CLUTCH! HIT THE BRAKE!" For some reason my 11 year old brain thought the best solution was to ignore the screaming brother and lay on the throttle. 10 seconds later I wiped out a small tree and had a handle bar shoved into my gut. About 30 seconds after that I was laying in the back of my grandmas station wagon watching a perfect circular bruise form in the middle of my belly. As much as that shit hurt, and that bruise that stuck around for _I_shit_you_not_ 6 months, the wound to my ego was much worse, and I felt super bad about the tree.
It got better.
By the time I was 13 that thing was pretty much toast, and I'd decided I like dad's old RL250 Suzuki trials bike better anyway. Couldn't touch the ground with both feet the first weekend I rode it, but putted around and got pretty comfortable on it. The push off was a bit wobbly, but I knew my legs would grow into it.
I am a third generation printer.
I am also a nerd.
I love computers and Star Wars movies made before 1983.
I also love cheese and dogs. Not together but my dogs also like cheese.