Papa to the rescue!

 

My first real motorcycle! 1972 Honda SL 100cc. Metallic green in color, gray frame with chrome rims, muffler heat shield, and light mounts. The tank and side panel decals were yellow/gold-trimmed in black. It was the prettiest bike I had ever seen (of course)!

It was going to carry me farther than I could have ever imagined. Beyond the sheer joy of riding, it would eventually take me to new acquaintances,  adventures away from home, a first date, and my first kiss, and would build my self-esteem which I was in great need of. In some ways it would set to course I would follow for decades. How's that for a little green motorcycle?

Many major events were occurring for this young lad and his world was growing faster than he could keep up with. We left the story last time with the little red Hornet mini-bike losing its luster in my estimation. That is not all that was deteriorating, things at home were going south also. My Dads drinking was creating problems which resulted in my Mom leaving home and taking me with her. She rented a house in a town nearby and we lived there for a while. 

It is here I need to introduce my Papa, he was one of those Grandparents that grandchildren are blessed to have. I never knew my grandmother on my Dads side, she had passed away when I was two. They were late in years when my Dad was born so Papa was well into his years when I came along.

Mom and Dad finally began to work things out and we were going back home. This was good news for this young lad, it was all too confusing, I needed my home and my Mom and Dad together. I don't know the details, I suppose I was too young to be confided in, but I understood it was agreed upon that my Dad would stop his drinking and fix up the house a bit, most people's barns were in better shape. It was built in the late 1860s and had never been painted and it leaked really bad. We had several cooking pots we set around when it rained to catch the drips. 

I highly suspect my Papa had come to my rescue, I doubt my Dad had the money to fix up the old house and Dad probably got some instruction concerning his behavior also. We put a new tin roof on, some siding, paneled the old walls inside, added new linoleum on the floor, added a room for me and ran water to the house, and build a bathroom. It was a great improvement, no more trips down to the outhouse on those cold winter days. Things went along pretty good for a while, but it wasn't long till my Dad started slipping back to his drinking. It was never as bad as before, but it was still a problem. He was never violent with us, but he would often say hurtful things when he had sipped a bit too much. Mostly for me, it was just an embarrassment. It seems strange to say that because at the same time, I looked up to Dad with such respect. I hated the drinking because it changed him so much. I guess my Mom just decided to tough it out, she never mentioned leaving home again and she stayed with him till the end. 

Papa came over to the house every Saturday and played with me or took me back home with him. At his house would go for walks, fish in the pond, run corn through the sheller, sit on the porch, and just talk. When we ran out of things to do, he would go get a hand full of old size D flashlight batters and get down on the floor with me and we would see who could get them to spin the longest. Dad didn't talk with me like that, I don't remember as a boy ever discussing anything about my life with Dad. We hunted and fished together, but that was all about the hunt and the fish. I never really liked the hunting, I was just cut from a different mold I suppose. I never killed anything I wasn't keenly aware of the fact I had just taken the life of a creature and inflicted pain and suffering. So once I was out on my own I let the hunting thing go. 

It was this motorcycle thing that was catching my attention. I don't know how it came about, Papa somehow picked up on that. I never asked him to buy me one, perhaps Dad said something to him. But one Saturday when Papa came over I was asked if I wanted to go look at some motorcycles with him and Dad. Are you kidding!!! Papa had come to the rescue again! We spent most of the day out shopping for a bike. We went first to a little place between Parsons and Perryville that had Hodaka motorcycles. I like them all, but the guy at the shop said they would not make a good first bike for a young boy. They were a bit more powerful than I would need.  I kind of thought that's what I wanted, but it spooked Papa. 

We next found ourselves at the Kawasaki dealer in Lexington. They had a bright red 100cc bike hanging from the ceiling, I thought we need look no further! They were discussing things and it was mentioned it was a two-stroke and used gas/oil mixture. My Papa didn't like that, I was beginning to think I needed to explain things to Papa a little better, this wasn't working out right. 

We found ourselves next at the Honda place, there in the showroom was this metallic green SL 100, I was getting really nervous by now, what would be the problem with this one? I listened intently to the conversation and I discovered my Papa knew Mr. Creasy somehow. It sounded like they were working out a deal! They were! Before the day was over it was mine! Of course, Papa would not be satisfied unless I had a good helmet, he picked me out the best one they had. It was gold metallic to match the gold decals on the bike. I got a bubble shield to go on it, and they suggested some crash bars in case I fell over, to keep the bike from falling on me. Papa had them put a set on it. Wow! Now I had chrome crash bars too! I would eventually bend them up so bad I had to take them off, but that's another story.

There were still a lot of things in my world that were not so good, but this was pretty good! I remember sitting on it when we got home, it felt so big. I had to learn to use the manual clutch with throttle control which is a task for any beginner. I killed the engine several times before I got it to move forward. Wow! When it went it went, it was so awesome! I rode it in 1st gear for a while and then got the nerve to try 2nd. That was twice as awesome! The other 3 gears would come later, each one being even more awesome than the one before. My first trip down the driveway was my first test of those crash bars, it was that darn clutch and throttle control thing while turning around. I picked it up as fast as I could, I don't think anyone saw me, nothing was ever said, I sure didn't mention it. I took such care of that little bike, I washed it when it got the least dirty, waxed it, even put wax on the rims, and boy did it shine! 

I started making the circle around the field in front of the house, I could use 3rd gear out there. I rode that circle day and night. I never got tired of riding, Mom would come get me at night to make me go to bed. I eventually wore all the grass off the circle and I then had my own dust bole. I don't know what exactly it cost Papa, seems I remember about $450.00 total, I think he paid some down and the rest out per month. This was the summer of 1972, Papa would have a stroke the next year and I would lose him soon after that, speaking of it here still weighs heavy upon my emotions. I received one of the greatest blessings that year, I was able to care for Papa after he came home from the hospital. He needed cleaning from time to time, Dad was gone during the day and it was uncomfortable for my Mom to do it. So I took the task to hand and served my Papa that summer till he passed away. He was never able to talk after that, his speech was affected, so our talks went away, but I knew, and he knew. After I would get him clean, we would look at each other, I knew he love me! I was so blessed to be able to serve and show him just how much I loved him. 

These kinds of things are hard and life is full of them. I would never have wanted my Papa to have a stroke and become dependent on others. But had it never happened as it did, I could never have said with words "I love you" and had them convey the dept of love as my service was able to say. He never came to my rescue expecting something in return, but as it turned out I was able to give a little bit of rescue back to him. Many times we ask the why in such hard times, maybe entertain the idea God let us down or perhaps cared not. But I have come to understand over the years, it is best to trust His Providences, both the pleasurable and the hard ones, and let the questions work themselves out. 

My Papa was gone now, but the little green motorcycle he got me was going to fill my next few years with many adventures, next time we'll talk about some of those perhaps.

David  

Where it all began

 

We were in Parsons TN. I was riding in the back seat with my parents, I have no idea why we were in town. As we drove down the main street, just before the traffic light, I was looking out the window and this little red mini-bike caught my eye. I don't recall thinking much about motorcycles until that moment, I guess it's just a boy thing, I don't know, but I got excited enough to direct my Dad's attention to it. I guess it's just a Dad thing, but as we were coming back on the way home my Dad pulled over at the store. It was sitting out on the sidewalk in front of the store, the only one they had. I ask what we were doing, I don't remember the exact words, but my Dad was going to take a look at this little red mini-bike.

To my complete surprise, before I was able to process what was going on, we were loading this thing in the trunk of the car. I didn't know what was happening was the beginning of something that would last me a lifetime, I just know it felt pretty exciting. 

By the time we arrived home, it had rained and the grass was wet, but that didn't stop me from my first adventure! My Dad rigged up a makeshift cardboard rear finder to keep the mud and water somewhat intact, pulled on the recoil starter rope, and fired the massive 2.5 hp Briggs up! The seat felt soft and comfortable, and the footpegs were metal and slick. There was one brake lever on the side of the frame, it was necessary to remove your foot from the footrest and place your whole foot on the brake lever the operate it. This brake design was simply a crooked rode with a metal flap welded to it that rubbed against the rear tire when applied. Simple but suffieient!

I placed my hands on the handlebars and felt the vibrations of the massive Briggs engine hitting those heavy strokes! I twisted the throttle grip and the automatic centrifugal clutch began to engage. The movement I felt in response to the throttle, well, I can't quite describe it. But I was hooked, life would never be the same now, there was no going back! I was 11 years old, the year was 1970, and that summer was absolutely amazing! 

This was absolutely a total surprise, we didn't have much as far as possessions go. Heck, we were still going to the outhouse, no running water yet. Dad was a sawyer at a local sawmill, Mom was home with me and my little brother. I never expected to have something like a mini-bike, it cost nearly $100.00, seems like $88.00 was on the tag. That was a lot of money for us then, heck, just having a bicycle put you in an upper-class category, especially if it was one of those spider bikes with the banana seat. 

There was a path between two fields that lead up to my Great Uncles' yard, I literally wore the grass off that summer going up and down that path. Before long it was time to venture out a little more with this newfound freedom. I talked Mom into letting me ride it out to my neighbor's house, a cousin of mine lived there and we played together quite a bit. It was my first ride down the road for about 1,500 feet, but it was enough to get the wind in my face. Micheal saw it and before I knew it, his Dad had him one also, I guess Dads are just like that. 

Of course, the path and the yard were soon not enough, we needed more! Trails began to form, and red clay gullies were discovered. The next few years were awesome, we were soon asking more of our little bikes than they could deliver for us. Clutches burned out, chains broke, and throttle cables gave way. We did not have hills to climb, but some of those red clay gullies came pretty close. The bottom of the mini would hang at the top and then we had that awesome wheel spin! Sweat, smoke, tire burn, hot oil smell, and those times just sitting and talking, letting it all cool down made for an indescribable summertime!  

Our family still had their struggles, my Dad was drinking more and the atmosphere at home was sometimes a bit of a challenge, but it seems that little red mini-bike sweetened it just a bit, if things went bad, I could grab those handles bars and to some small degree put those things out of my mind. We were not going to church yet, I knew little about the church and the Gospel. I suppose I knew it was out there, but I didn't think much about it. My world was still small, a little red mini-bike called a Hornet (it had a black Hornet emblem on the front) and a few trails. But it was enough to have some wonderful summers and make some of these memories to share.

However, my world began to enlarge, and I discovered Motorcycle magazines!  I saw bikes in there much more impressive than my little red Hornet. I began to paste them on the wall in my room. I eventually had the wall covered, so I started to paste them on the ceiling. I didn't realize it then, but my Mom sure was gracious in letting me do that to her house! I started dreaming about having a real dirt bike, and I did everything I could to hint at it. The hints were not getting me anywhere, so I finally started just plain out asking for one. Dad explained to me they were too expensive, we simply couldn't afford one. I was going to just have to make do with the little red Hornet. I really understood, but I was getting bigger and the little Hornet was staying the same size. Then my cousin Micheal got an upgrade, a yellow Honda CL 100cc. Wow! It had blinkers and chrome, lights, a speedometer, gears, a manual clutch, and spoke wheels, it was a real motorcycle! I was glad for him, but it was devasting for me! 

I was learning that things in this life, as wonderful as they are in the moment, are only that, for the moment. The feeling I had when I first got that little red Hornet mini-bike was no longer there. It no longer gave me the rush it did in the beginning. I began to feel deprived, I deserved more! Now I was a good kid, I didn't give my Dad any lip over it. I still understood it was out of our reach to get me a real motorcycle. Nor did I hold hard feelings toward my Dad or disrespect him in any way for not getting me one. But it is what I felt inside, it didn't seem fair. Having to make do with that little red mini-bike was causing all kinds of uncomfortable feelings, and the summers didn't look so good anymore. 

Some would say I didn't deserve it, and if I wanted one, I should have gotten out and worked for it. They would be right, but somehow I didn't have that understanding yet. I was shy and not very socially oriented, I was not afraid of working, I just somehow didn't know how to put all that together. I lived in the rural country area of Tennessee, and my world was still small even though it was getting bigger. I would eventually put some of these things together, but it would be a few years down the road. That's for another story. We simply have to walk through things in our lives, sometimes they work out and get better, and sometimes they don't. When I get time for another post, we'll look at what happened next. 

Thanks for reading,

David