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My First Love…
Back in 1996, I overheard my parents animatedly discussing a subject following their return from a standard Saturday garage-saling, and went to see what it was. They were not-quite-arguing over the subject of a motorcycle in which Dad was interested. He already had one, a 1980 CX500, as did my brother, who had a pair, 1976 and 1978 CB750s. He asked me if I was interested in going to look at it. And I said sure.
At the seller’s house was a shiny, mostly-stock 1976 CB550K that looked like someone opened the JC Whitney catalog to the All Things Chrome page and just emptied it out. Even some engine parts had been chromed. Also added were a pair of lowering blocks in the rear, and a set of Forking By Frank 8+ upper fork legs, topped with a set of 12″ butterfly bars. The whole thing looked like it was ready to tip over backward.
He and my father haggled over the price. Made lower by the fact that the seller did not have a title. They settled on the paltry sum of $300, my brother (the only other one with a motorcycle endorsement slung a leg over and rode it home. My father also made the vain attempt to purchase the man’s 1967 BSA complete with era-correct and -original hippie-inspired paintjob, but that could not be had for blood, money, or firstborn. It was an amazing (and amazingly CHARTREUSE) machine.
Once home, my father asked what I thought of the new bike. I said it was interesting, with the Dark Side of the Moon graphics on tank and side covers and all, but it looked awfully tall. My brother said it handled like crap because the geometry was all wonky due to the forks and lowering blocks. Then he said, “Do you think you could sit it?” I swung a leg over, and the suspension settled to a comfortable and usable height. The King/Queen saddle was cushy, if a little oversized, and the bar reach was good. I said so, and he said, “Good. It’s yours.” Turns out THAT was the crux of the argument he and my mother had earlier- the bike wasn’t for him, it was for ME. Gave her conniptions enough that her husband and eldest son were riding (and she, an ER nurse…), but not her BABY! But she was overruled.
In the intervening years the bike was ridden, then sat, then was ridden again, then sat again. It underwent many changes, first to ditch the catalog-chop job, then to a bobber with 21″ apehangers, then to a solo hardtail with GP bars and an FLX tank. And then it sat again, most recently for the last 8 years, because, life happens.
Fast-forward to now. I just bought a 2007 KLR650 from a coworker, partly for the ability to handle our dirt road, partly for the amazing mileage. It’s a decent bike, but it’s no road machine, which is mostly what I need, and the fit is taking some getting used to. But as late in the season as it Is, I have The Bike Bug again, and so this afternoon I went to the back corner of the driveway and, battling red-leg wasps and yellowjackets, I pulled the tarp off my First Love.
And I fell in love all over again.
Yeah, he’s a mess. It’s going to be a long winter’s overhaul, but come springtime, this one will be alive again. I may keep the KLR as well, I’m not sure yet. It’s certainly a peppy and powerful machine, and handles our Douglas County wreck of a “road” with aplomb, but at least for now, it just doesn’t fit, we don’t have that connection. We’ll see. But Floyd? He’s my forever machine, until I run out of parts, for me or him.
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