I was a biker trapped in the body of a teenager.

When I was just a kid, seemingly eons ago, I fell in love with motorcycles.  The kid down the street had mini-bikes, and my cousins even had a rickety old Honda CB360, which was the first motorcycle I actually got to ride while my parents weren’t looking..

See?  When I was a kid, any time I even looked at a motorcycle, I was immediately reminded by the parents of impending maiming, death, and destruction in a very real “you’ll shoot your eye out kid” kinda way.  Not that my dad cherished prized fishnet hooker leg lamps like in the movie “The Christmas Story”, but their concern was pretty much the same.

To make things even worse, when I was 9 years old, I was playing in the street outside my parents house when I was physically run over in the street by another neighbor on his Kawasaki (and me on my Huffy bicycle).  One broken collar bone.  One bent bicycle frame.  No damage to the desire to own a motorcycle.

Alas. my burgeoning passion would have to wait until I was out of my parent’s house and had no one else to blame but myself…

My first mainline “hit” at motorcycling.

Somewhere, about 1990 or so (I was 24), a group of friends and I were all sitting around Steve’s house when I announced “I want a motorcycle!” and off we went to the local (and pretty much only) Bike shop.  Sitting in the back room was a lightly used 1981 Suzuki GS 550T with 2487 miles on it.  This was a four-cylinder in-line machine which had more power than I knew what to do with.  Literally.

Having never had any instruction in either riding or safety, I plunked my $1500 worth of plastic on the table, bought a helmet, and began the long ride back to the friend’s house, some 30 miles away..  Later reports say that I traveled it at about 30 miles per hour, scared as hell, but I got there nonetheless.

Such began my life as a “biker”.

During this time, I began a relationship with a woman who would eventually become my wife.  Six months into my relationship, and having constantly heard chiding reminiscent of my parents from both her, and my best friend at the time, I was forced to make a choice.  Them (and my sanity) or my motorcycle.

Alas.  I chose poorly, and the motorcycle was sold to some random guy who knocked on the door of my apartment one Saturday afternoon, cash in hand.

Intermission.

Between 1991, and 2008 is what I refer to in biker lingo as “the dark time”.  I was a motorcyclist stranded on the desert island of no motorcycles.

Finally, enough was enough, so I traded the wife in to the now ex-best-friend and — when the mood struck me — walked into another shop (same owners) and walked out with a used Orange 2006 Honda VTX 1300.  Man, what a beautiful bike.  A V-twin, 1300cc cruiser with exactly the right attitude for in-town riding, and the power to back it up.  The VTX was, in fact, one of the first of a line of what’s now known as “muscle cruisers”.  I was in heaven.

Like all great things though, life was about to change.

What brought me back from the darkness to the ride was the fact that my dad and I were now pretty much spending every single weekend riding here and there.  He on his Suzuki 800, (later V-star 1100, then Roadliner 1700 followed by an extensive list) and me on my VTX 1300.

Pretty soon, it became apparent that neither my buttocks, nor the ride of the 1300 were in agreement on how best to handle 400-mile jaunts around the countryside.

One week, lots of great pics, and an eBay transaction later, and I was back on the prowl for the next big thing.  Little did I truly know how big that would be.

Growing up is hard to do.

Having pretty much consigned myself to cruisers or what they now call “standards” (sport bikes are not my friend), I was in the original bike shop that sold me my Suzuki one Saturday.  On a whim, I threw my leg over the saddle of a 2008 Honda Goldwing 1800.  The 1800 is a six-cylinder, 1800cc full touring bike with enough power and storage for you to either tour the Americas, or make a Saturday Wal-Mart grocery run.

Needless to say, I was sold.  Three days later on a frosty January afternoon, after cross-referencing the prices at dealers all around the country, I walked in, made a suitable deal, and walked out, keys and paperwork in hand.  If there’s a funny side to this story, it’s simply that the sheer size and power of this motorcycle intimidated me SO much that I asked the dealer to ride it home for me (I was in the truck anyway) that night.

Oh, I got used to it VERY quickly, and I took the pre-requisite training courses on how to ride safely, but somewhere along the line, I had gone from a $6000 used cruiser to a full-on, $17000 touring bike which is still the bike by which all others will forever be measured.  Even stranger is that I did so without even batting an eyelid.

For over a year, the Goldwing and I were inseperable.  Indeed, that first year, I rode a documented 308 days, on trips ranging from the local pizza shop, to spontaneous unplanned trips to North Carolina to ride “The Tail of the Dragon” (US 129 between TN and NC — 318 curves in 11 miles and a hell of a lot of fun).

Life is what happens while you are making other plans.

18,000+ miles into my year-long love affair, the unthinkable happened.  For the first time since I was 16 years old, I found myself a victim of the economy and the inevitable end contracting cycles.

Ironically, while I found myself unemployed with the absolute most time ever available to ride, I simply could not afford to.  The motorcycle love of my life had to be sacrificed to the Gods of Craigslist.  Wayne was one incredibly sad puppy.

Four months later, come February of 2010, I had found temp work 200 miles away from home and I was damned glad to have it.

May 2010. — The Sport Bike experiment

In May of 2010, after what I guess was months of whining about buying a new bike while looking at every ad out there, my Dad — whom I truly love dearly — calls me up and says “I found you a bike.”  That weekend, I made the 200-mile trek to feel the kitties and check the mail to find a 2002 Silver Kawasaki Concours 1000 sitting in my garage.

Happy Birthday to me!

I was literally “back in the saddle” and the happiest I’ve been since that fateful October day.  Around town and back and forth to work every day, this motorcycle had everything I could possibly want or need.  It could carry luggage, it could get me 42mpg, it could go from 0-60 faster than anyone truly wants to (which is saying something for hauling my ample frame).

… I almost wish I hadn’t ever ridden a Goldwing.

I did mention that I TRULY love my Dad, right?  I never, ever wanted to look this particular gift horse in the mouth at all.  After about two  months of riding the Concours back and forth from Montgomery to Huntsville, it became readily apparent that this — for me — was NOT a long-distance motorcycle.  About an hour in the seat, and I was ready to go visit a local chiropractor.  It seems that my ample frame just isn’t meant to lean forward on vibrating handlebars for extended periods of time.

I approached my dad about the problem, and his response was “sell it and buy something else”.  Wow.  I would have felt uber-guilty for gift-swapping like that..  As it turns out however, through my Dad’s normal mode of getting bored with things and swapping them out for new and exciting toys, he somehow managed to end up with not only a 2009 Kawasaki Voyager (touring bike) but a 2010 Harley Davidson Ultra Classic (the penultimate in beauty and chrome polished extravagance).

The “Something Else”.

About a month ago now, after going on several rides (after the 200-mile trek home) with my dad, he calls me up and makes me an offer I can’t refuse.  “Sell the Concours and take the Voyager”.  Wow.  Seriously?  How could I possibly refuse such a magnanimous gesture???

So now, I’m back on a bike which can easily do 800-mile, three-day weekend trips (as performed on the Columbus Day weekend) with little if any trouble.  In all fairness though, it’s a little cold-natured (most Kawasakis are) and there’s a bit more vibration than I’m used to (not used to V-Twins with floorboards  — as opposed to pegs) but it rides SWEET and I don’t feel like crying when I get there.

I did however have to buy a fancy backrest for it. (see right)

In the end, I’m back to being extremely happy.  The temp job I’m working is about to end, so I’ll be looking for opportunities, but in the meantime, I’m stocking up for the cold riding season.

Stay Tuned.  More to come (I hope)

Thanks for reading.

– Wayne Hunt
– SegWayne.com