Although I'd been riding for years on the bikes that my buddies or other guys owned, I couldn't afford to buy my own bike until after high school. I'd cut my teeth on everything from my best friend Ernie's Honda CL70 (which we rode two-up all over creation), to bigger Yamaha two-strokes owned by my older sisters' boyfriends. Amazing what those guys would part with to get some time away from the pesky little brother!
Luckily I also lived just across the street from one amazing motorcycle nut family, and their dad was always bringing home different bikes for himself or his four kids or even the neighbor kids to ride. I guess this was before the days of liability fears, or good ol' Dave C. was just indifferent to the risk, but he used to always have his garage stocked with Honda Mini-Trails and CT70s and CT90s that were just available for any kid in the neighborhood to go ride. All he insisted on was that you wore a "brain bucket," of which he also had many spares lying around, and you were free to ride his stuff anywhere. God bless you, Dave; I know that some of your neighbors must have disliked having you in the neighborhood, but the kids there loved you. I hope you've got half of heaven on two wheels by now. Through Dave's garage I explored dirt and street machines of all types and sizes. Pentons, Hodakas, Maicos, Husquvarnas, Bultacos, Montessas, and the incredible (at the time) Honda Elsinores. Living in New Mexico meant great motocross riding was just a block or two away. Dave preferred dirt riding for the kids, because we had no licenses and he thought you were less likely to get injured there. I look back now and wonder how he even afforded to buy gasoline for all those bikes, much less other maintenance, but he never had a shortage of kids around the house helping him with oil changes or other maintenance chores. We all learned a little bit of wrenching from the guy, who was an uneducated mechanical genius. Dave also showed me my first Honda CB750. They weren't on the market for a week before he brought one home and amazed everybody with it's incredible sound and power. The world did not have enough toys for this guy. Among other mechanical curiousities he had a miniature front-end loader and backhoe, a home-made ultra-light airplane, a small parking lot sweeper (like those huge street sweepers, but personal sized), and other assorted mechnaical bits and pieces. He had some strange 6th sense, and would find this odd mechanical stuff all over creation, and bring it home to be repaired and given a new lease on life. He used to show us pictures of him racing at Bonneville in the 1950s, before his marriage and kids. Quite a guy, who lived as full a life as anybody I've known since. So after high school I decided it was time to get my first bike, one of my own. And Dave took me to the Suzuki dealership and co-signed for my loan to buy a brand new Suzuki GS750E, black with cast-alloy wheels. Fastest 750 on the market, he assured me. Good solid bike. I'd been considering a Yamaha 750 triple, with a shaft drive, but Dave said chains had been working just fine for many years, and he didn't think a shaft was all that much better, so I took his advice. Never regreted it. Now, some 25 or 30 bikes later, I still know where my original GS750 resides. With the father of a buddy of mine, who bought it from me when I moved east.
