My First Motorcycle
When I was growing up in Texas you could get a motorcycle license a year before you could get a drivers license. Like many of my friends I had been saving up to buy a motorcycle as soon as possible and achieve freedom from being driven everywhere.
There was a Honda dealership between my house and my school, and everyday I would walk by and look at what was being offered. Then I saw a lightly used CB175 that was in my price range, so I did a deal with the salesperson to buy it. He walked me through how to ride it in the parking lot and I rode it home.
Well, I almost got it home. The muffler was custom and the bike was loud. A policeman pulled me over for loud pipes. When he asked for my license I told him I hadn’t gotten one yet. So I got two tickets less than an hour after buying the bike.
When I got home my mother was not happy on several levels. First that I had bought a bike without really talking to her about it. Second, in her mind, I was now going to prison because of the two tickets. She always went to extremes.
I went back to the Honda dealership and told the salesman about the loud pipes ticket and he laughed. He reassured me that all would be fine. He wrote a letter on dealer letterhead confirming that the pipes were in fact legal. Then he said to go get a license before my court date because they would have to dismiss the ticket. I thanked him and set out to go get my license.
I did get my license and sure enough when I presented the letter and my license, both tickets were dismissed and I was free to go. My mother now was convinced that I was going to be a lawyer. Did mention that she took things to the extreme?
What I did not expect was my grandmothers reaction to the bike. She took one look at it and said “a Honda?, oh heck no!” And then she put me in her car and drove downtown. We pulled up to this old motorcycle shop that had a 1940’s Indian motorcycle in the window. We walked in and a very stereotypical biker was behind the counter. My grandmother asked if “Skinny” was around. The guy behind the counter said yes and yelled into the back “Hey Skinny there is a lady here to see you!”
When he came out he looked like one the members of ZZ Top complete with the waist length beard. He got super excited when he saw my grandmother and ran up and gave her a big hug calling her Maggie. My jaw hit the floor. Come to find out that my grandparents rode motorcycles when they were younger and Skinny was one of the group who rode together.
I was introduced as her grandson and he shook my hand enthusiastically saying he was proud to meet me and telling me how much he thought of my grandfather and grandmother. My jaw still was on the floor at this point.
Then my grandmother explained that I had bought a Honda. His eyes narrowed and he looked at me and said “WHY?”. All I could stammer out was that it was what I could afford. He thought about it for a moment and then said “Well, there is no way that Margie and Jimmy’s grandson is riding a ‘rice propelled’ bike. Bring it and your title here tomorrow and I’ll fix you up.”
I never realized that people who lived through WWII held a dislike for Japanese things till right then.
The next day I did as instructed and Skinny rolled an absolutely beautiful 1968 Triumph Trophy out. Handed me the keys and took the Honda keys. With that the deal was done.
I rode that Triumph for years and am grateful for Skinny’s kindness. More Triumph stories will be coming soon!
