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FZ6If you’re looking for one bike to perform a multitude of missions, look no further.
Take it from Cycle World* Magazine - “For a more advanced rider looking for a bike to do it all, there is no other choice.”
Hey guys, in reading all these threads here, it just got me to reflecting on all the good times I've had on motorcycles for the last 40+ years. I thought maybe you guys would like to share some of your more memorable days on a motorcyle. You know what I'm talking about, one of those days that will always stick in your mind as being a little special, like your first bike, that perfect ride, a two wheeled vacation, or any other topic that has to do with a day on a motorcycle. In over 40 years on motorcyles, I have a few memorable days that will always stick with me. I'll start this off by sharing one of those days with you.
It was 38 years ago on May 25, 1969 to be exact. I had been in the military for about a year, and was still racing dirt track whenever I could get the time. I had been racing since '67 on a 250 Bultaco, with dreams of going pro. The race in this story was at Fremont Raceway up in the SF Bay Area. It was the season opening day at Fremont, which was a really fast and dusty track. What made this race, and this day, significant to me, was the fact that I was leaving for Vietnam the following morning. I knew I wouldn't be on a bike again for at least a year. Because this was the season opener, there were 60 guys in my class alone, and I knew it was gonna be a challenge.
The weather was beautiful, practice went well, and the bike was running perfect. I was really pumped, yet calm at the same time, and totally focused. We lined up for my heat race, the flag went up, and I got the holeshot into the first turn, and led it from start to finish. There were 5 heat races in my class that day, and only the first 2 from each heat transfered to the main event. I felt good about my heat race win, but knew that I would be up against all the fast guys in the main, and things would be a little tougher.
Finally it was time, and I lined up for the main event. The flag went up, and again I was first off the line and into the first turn, but a couple guys behind me went down, and we got red flagged for a restart. So, we all line up again for the start, and damn if I didn't get another holeshot into the first turn. I just can't believe it when I come around for the first lap, and see the red flag again for another restart. Amazingly, to this day I can still remember how calm and focused I was, considering what had happened up to this point. We line up for the third start of the main event, flag goes up, and for the fourth time in a row that day, I get the holeshot and lead into the first turn. I had a guy just planted on my rear wheel the whole race, and just couldn't shake him, but I never made a mistake, led wire to wire, and won the main event that day. It definately was the most perfect day I ever had on a motorcyle, and was quite the send off for my following day's journey overseas. What made it even better, was that my folks were there to see it and cheer me on. They came to all my races, and were always there for me. My dad has been gone 9 years, and I really miss him, but with memories like these, he will never really be gone.
Well, enough of my long winded stories for now, how about you guys? Let's hear some of your more memorable days on a motorcyle.
the only story i can share that was memorable, was when i rode by bike to church, listened to the sermon with great interest then pulled my gun and started shooting all the people that I feel cut me off (and flicked cigarette butts out the window) at some point or another.
the only story i can share that was memorable, was when i rode by bike to church, listened to the sermon with great interest then pulled my gun and started shooting all the people that I feel cut me off (and flicked cigarette butts out the window) at some point or another.
Jeff, that wasn't even remotely funny.
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Old enough to know better; still too young to care.
I have had many memorable moments... and hope to enjoy many more... but they're only memorable to me, and aren't very entertaining (just ask my friends).
Quote:
Originally Posted by Magseal
the only story i can share that was memorable, was when i rode by bike to church, listened to the sermon with great interest then pulled my gun and started shooting all the people that I feel cut me off (and flicked cigarette butts out the window) at some point or another.
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Luck favors the prepared
"Yea, though I ride through the valley of the shadow of the Harley, I will fear no R.U.B.: For my FZ6 art with me; thy power, thy speed and thy handling they comfort me." -- Metrics 23:4
I can still remember the total feeling of euphoria after my 100 mile weekend of riding in Vermont (it was all I had time for). Words can't describe my enjoyment of that trip.
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Old enough to know better; still too young to care.
my best or most memorable ride was last year in august. i had the bike for about...well a month. it was my day off from a job i hated. i had nowhere to be, nothing to do, so i just grabbed a book and took off to a great local beach ( cambria ) to be exact. the ride was great, lots of friendly wavers, no cops, no traffic and perfect weather. i stopped at the top of the hills on the way to take it all in. proceeded to cambria where the weather was even better. had a great pork sadwitch and a cold beer. next i went to my favorite beach witch was void of tourists. sat my ass down and read for awhile. it was this day when i became a much calmer person.. having the bike to rely on for an escape such as this brought on a calm that washed over me and hasnt left me yet. seriously this bike did change my life. i am now the calmest mild mannored person who just doesnt care about petty problems. cuz i know i can always just go for a ride. i stayed at the beach untill sunset. took a horrable road home ( santa rosa ). but life was good from then on and it still is.
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myspace.com/mr___joe
"Pussies don't like dicks, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes. I don't know much about this crazy, crazy world, but I do know this: If you don't let us fuck this asshole, we're going to have our dicks and pussies all covered in shit"! lol T.A.W.P.
My best memories were at age 13 when I learned to ride on a Honda CR80 2 stroke dirtbike! At my size at 13 of 82 lbs that little 80 would get up and go plenty fast! I was jumping it the first week I was on it, over 20' horizontal and 8' vertical on some dirt ramps we made with a skid loader, not bad for a newbie at age 13! I remember the thrill of hitting that 80cc 2 stroke "powerband" and getting the front tire off the ground! that bike seemed so fast to me back then.
The next best memory was the first time I took the FZ6 above 8K rpms. The fastest bike I had ever ridden up to that point was a Ninja 500R.
Rolling into Louisville for the Derby, 2/3's through a long road trip in 2006 was a lot of fun. Perfect weather, I was excited about the next 3 days in Louisville, the roads were nice, I was on schedule, and the hottie who checked my into my suite when I arrived loved the bike
So, this is not some monumentous occasion, but just the ride to work this morning blew my mind.
I woke up to realize I had slept funny and messed up my lower back something fierce. After a shower, I hobbled downstairs and had a smoke on my back porch. I noticed the moon was up in the sky, still taking its night vigil over the world that was just rising from slumber. Bumblebees were droning through my garden, going from flower to flower in their persistent quest. The air was cool and still, and the sound of the day had not yet begun.
All I could think about was hopping on my bike.
I got geared up, started my bike, and instantly I had forgotten about my aching back. I backed my bike out of my driveway, blipping the throttle and hearing the engine eagerly respond like a devil on my shoulder, urging me to let it come alive.
I took it easy through the neighborhoods leading to the highway. I could smell dew and lilac flowers floating on the breeze. Children, as they always seem to do, waved as I rode by. I ran the bike quietly through the gears, feeling the assertive clunk of the shifter as it manipulated the clockwork of gears spinning inside the transmission.
This is my morning game, the offramp. Many mornings I am stuck behind a train of cars, boringly riding their brake down to twenty miles an hour as they crawl around the pristine and perfectly banked surface. Not this morning. This morning I got onto the access road, dropped a gear and zipped past all of the cars, legally passing them before we got to the ramp. Fifth gear became fourth gear as I downshifted, perfectly bouncing the rpms to match the new gear. I shifted my body, putting all of my weight on the balls of my feet and dropping my entire body off the side of the bike, nearly kissing the mirror.
"This is the part that makes the danger worth it"
I heard the words, a ghost of my inner monologue as if they were whispered to me by some angel on my shoulder, and dropped the bike into the curve. The pavement zoomed up to my knee and almost instantly I was dancing just inches above the asphalt, choosing my line so that I could roll on the throttle just after the steeply decreasing apex of the off ramp.
Gas it.
I open the throttle and the weight shifts. Now the bike is being controlled almost entirely by the rear wheel and it powers into the curve like its tied to the front of a freight train. The white line, that beacon telling all of us that you have gone too far, approaches me slowly, timidly, like a nervous child.
And I'm out.
I flick the bars and the bike stands back up as it climbs toward the redline. Now I can smell grass and gasoline, and I feel the warm tunnel of air that surrounds the highway envelop me.
I take it easy the rest of the way to work, and when I finally turn my bike off in the parking lot, I notice I have an ear to ear smile on my face.
Those Special Days
NESBA #264