Coop's Corner: More (of my) Old Bikes

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

More (of my) Old Bikes

These were my 5 bikes in February, 1980.

1974 Honda 750, had been dad's, we traded, he took my '70XLH Sportster. The Windjammer moved over to the Suzuki.

My very first bike, a '70 Yamaha AT1 Enduro

This one had been my brother's; a 250MX Yamaha. He probably remembers what year it was, I do not.

I bought this 1976 Honda XL350 brand new from Larson's Cycle in Cambridge.

1979 Suzuki GS850, ordered in October '78 as soon as (and almost before) dad and I returned from Aspencade in New Mexico.

In 1976, Brad and I planned to Go West to Glacier, Banff and Jasper National Parks. The trip was planned for August. We decided to do a practice run over the July 4 (Bicentennial Weekend), up the Minnesota north shore, our first night in Ontario's Kakebeka Falls Provincial Park, then over on 17 to Kenora, camping at Sioux Narrows then home. It always struck me as odd that we spent the Bicentennial in my favorite country to the North.

Brad and Dave at the Temperance River Rest Stop.

A chain adjustment in Two Harbors....my classy helmet had been metallic blue. I rattle-bombed it orange to color match my sparkly Honda.

Dad and mom on his '75 750....for some odd reason can't remember where this was taken and don't recognize the location.

I went to Texas in December 1979, this was Corpus Christi....

Mexico, south of Brownsville....

Spring 1980, Maiden Rock Wisconsin, directly across the river from where we currently live. The Suzuki had lost the Windjammer....I was moving in a Sport Touring direction though the smaller, cafe-sized fairing had yet to be mounted.

Another trip, high above the parking lot, actually ON Maiden Rock looking down on the parking lot and Lake Pepin. We used to climb up top.

The photo is labeled on the back, "NE of Coon Valley".

"North Bend Wisconsin Flooded Black River"

I stopped in Galena, Illinois on my '80 Moto Guzzi SP1000, saw its mate and managed to park right next to it. The Suzuki was sold to my friend Dan with just over 50k miles when I picked up the Guzzi from Les at Caswell Cycle, the same place the Suzuki came from when new.

My lone SP1000 waiting for the Merrimac, Wisconsin Free Ferry.

My SP1000, Chuck's G5 Guzzi and Steve's Superglide on our way to Road America, must have been June 1981.

Chuck's very nice 750 Ducati, later perished in a fire....along with both his Norton and his 450 Ducati.

Chuck's brother Ken's TA125 Yamaha. Chuck and Ken were roadracing friends from our time in the CRA and Brainerd International Raceway. I bought Ken's previous race bike, a '75 CB400F that I rode until Peg started riding it, obtaining her M/C license when we were a'courtin on said Honda.

8 comments:

CanajunOctober 18, 2018 at 12:29 PM
Some nice old bikes there. Bring back memories.
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motormikeOctober 18, 2018 at 8:33 PM
I like the 350 thumper :)
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ScottyOctober 20, 2018 at 5:56 PM
My very first bike bought with my own money was a Honda VF500 Interceptor.My roommate had a 900 Ninja. Good times.
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ScottyOctober 20, 2018 at 5:57 PM
And btw. I'm thinking of going back to a smaller displacement bike too.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)