Sometime smaller is better. PART ONE

I began my motorcycle career in 1968. Earned money cutting grass, my father bought me a 1966 HONDA S90  I'd found in the for sale ads in the paper..  How many kids did the same thing... I don't know.  Dozens? More likely tens of thousands.

I won't get into my very early childhood, suffice to say, I was a European kid in a world unfamiliar to me. We were refugee's from the 1956 Hungarian uprising. Displaced, perhaps a suitcase for the 4 of us.  Mom, Dad, 9 year older sister.

Got picked on at Elementary school, knew no English, a foreign language to everyone except myself.

Once we'd moved from the rental home in Kensington, Edmonton to Wellington with  my best pal Smokey, a derelict cat, My Father bought the little black and Chrome Honda over on the south side in the "rich district" far from the railway tracks and suburbs, I'd begun to explore. Like many kids we learned from experience. My tutorial was handing the keys over from the previous owner who had ridden the bike over handing over the keys and then disappearing in the two seater sports car they'd driven over.

Lesson one, start bike, step on the gear shifter.  This would have been better done with some previous throttle work. The little Honda wheelied the five feet right into the garage door!

When Dad came home from his out of town job, instead threatening to sell the bike, we just pounded out the dent in the garage door and from there , those humble beginnings as they say, my career began with a "Bang and a crash!"

Some time later, the clutch stopped working.  We took the bike to Scona Cycle on the south side and was told by it's owner that the clutch was broken and wasn't worth repairing but he would take my Super 90 in on trade, at a low value of course.  Because the owners of the dealership were old time Hungarians, my Dad  felt comfortable doing the trade.  Only later as my experience grew, I realized that Uncle Rudy, actually , well let's say took advantage as what the bike needed was a 4$ cable.

The Honda stayed and the 1968 Suzuki "Scrambler" A 100 was taken home.

Lesson number two.

I rode that bike in the woods... well the vacant lot and it's dozen trees across the street, but it was really the beginning of my love affair with trail riding and eventually led to Baja, Motocross and adventure touring before there was such a thing!

Bike three was a 1968 Suzuki too. The famed X6 Hustler with it's 6 speed gear box. Man that bike could fly. Gaining experience I went hunting British 500's and 650's. The former had NO chance in racing the Suzuki and the hard pressed 650 models weren't reliable to even try.

Some time after that, the Hustler moved on and a Yamaha 305 Big Bear filled the space in the garage.  It was "only" a five speed (the Brits were 4) the thing about the Yammie was it's high pipes, one per side, continuing my love affair with "trail/adventure" bikes.

By now my experience was gaining by leaps and bounds, the bigger bikes allowed faster speeds and the faster speed gave me the ability to extend my horizons.  Both the Suzuki and Big Bear could easily roam out in the countryside.  I was getting my traveling feet wet!  On one trip to the Rocky mountains from home in FM, when neighbor Merv and I rode in monsoon conditions to Miette hot springs outside Jasper, (ask me about that one some time !)

At 17, I was working the summer at the "plant" in Fort MacMurray as a swamper on a fuel  truck.

I made so much money I bought my first new bike. A Suzuki 350 (which was really a 315cc over bored 250 from the factory, of the Hustler.)

I loved that bike but didn't have it long.  My long distance legs were growing and on a trip to FM from my home in Edmonton, I was returning on the gravel, highway 63, I was hit by a station wagon filled with 'Plamondons' from the same town as their names.  They were trying to pass a slower vehicle that went by me going north (I was headed south) and fortunately as was my practice to stick as far over to the right as possible.  The young girl (18) that was driving was frantic I still remember as they made room in the 5 family members and I was bundled into the station wagon and they dropped me at the hospital in FM.  Had I been even 12 inches further left, I would not be here today.

Anyway... the point of all this is thus... I began small, learned the ropes, (like always to have a couple of spark lugs in the tool kit) Soon I had a Yamaha LT100 MX from where my racing passion started. By this time we were all living in Fort Mac, I was an apprentice Machinist, earning a bunch of money 3-4 times what my cohorts I'd meet in my annual visits to Tech at N.A.I.T. *

Soon in addition to the race bike in our garage I had a a brand new BMW R60/5 bought new with all that overtime money.

At the ripe old age of 20 I rode the Beemer to the east coast, and now I was a long distance motorcyclist. I had not only survived, but I had gained experience and I must say, I have had an illustrious career riding.

There isn't near enough ink to put on paper even a tenth, nay ... a quarter of the last 52 years.

If you've been following the ten years I've been doing this blog you'd know what I am talking about.

I began small, moved up carefully, tried different things, some I adored some, mey... not so much.

Became the youngest Chief Instructor in Canada, Twice named as Outstanding CI of the year, first in Alberta and after moving to PEI, here too.

To say that Motorcycles have shaped my life would be a terrible understatement of the decade.

Between the humble beginning on a used , shining black and chrome Honda Super/Sport 90 and it's episode with the garage door to traveling tends of thousands of km in Europe.

If someone told you motorcycling (and cats) have shaped my life... well, it's certainly true.

*Northern AB Institute of Technology

My last thing on the agenda this morning sitting here in my home office in Spring Valley Prince Edward Island is to cross my fingers and hope I can continue blogging for you all.  Seems the Blog provider believes the format should change to one more compatible with technology.

My thoughts on that... in ways, this blog format is like that Honda 90...

Nothing like a light snack for lunch!

It was a wonderfully sunny day... Brenda exclaimed loudly with gusto... "I LOVE IT"

Don't even ask how many calories.

The weather has been very warm as of late.

The thermometer  on the Piaggio read 31 before dropping back down to 30. Traffic was brisk indicating that Islander's have for the most part, ready to move on from CoVid 19.  I can't help but be pessimistic.  My  normal Capricorn brain is telling me to be cautious but if the pool area at Victoria sea side park was an indication, it was a feeling the many didn't or wouldn't share with me.

It was a straight shot via Lower Malpeque Rd  right to the heart of Charlottetown, where Canada was born.

I crossed the heart of the Capital, parked the MP3 at a 1 hour parking spot and after a brief search in the downtown core found a small corner breakfast where we had the "Super" king size chocolate covered , berry brightened gazillion calorie Waffle touched off by black coffee for me and a  custom mix for Bren.

With no worry that we were going to be ticketed, after all the Piaggio was made for streets like this.  If anything, the cool little Italian would be held up by curious question asking passerby.

A nice cool respite Charlottetown  Victoria Park 

Riding scooters and especially a funky little one like we were riding in such a historic setting historic it was not hard to feel very "Cosmo" ! After the Fathers of Confederation hashed out the beginning making of the country. It's doubtful that didn't on a mega waffle, and they wouldn't be riding a neat little Three wheeler.

I get asked every place I go "how can you ride that thing." Well the secret is, forget it's got three wheels. Yes boys and girls... she's a leaner.

From there we took a myriad of one way streets, parked at the dairy bar, stowed the lids and took the better part of 90 minutes wandering the trails amid tall cool hundred foot tall trees at the amazed at the  resourcefulness of the ground squirrels and chipmunks. Looking for hand outs!



We didn't get a 12 gun salute at the battery, but did overlook the harbor where once sail vessels came and went.  Now it the occasional tour vessel, high speed motorboats and yes... a plethora of sailing ship albeit much more modern!



It was mid afternoon and suited up we headed back to rte two but just a block or two away I decided to take the Trans Canada Highway instead.




Still hot but with a blustering wind blowing us around some.  I stopped at Bonshaw to cool off a wee bit, and wandered around a little in the back country, eventually arriving back home around 6 pm.





A fabulous day all together, Rode from Victoria street in Kensington, to Victoria park and on the return ride, stopped at the quaint little Victoria (by the sea)

Lots of "Victoria's" on PEI.

Placid Bonshaw river

Legacy vs new look Blogger

Personally, after over ten years blogging from what began as a means of reaching more my friend list, entertain them and keeping in touch with people I knew while motorcycling Europe.

Seeing as I have reached the age of applying for pension, simpler is better is me.  I have a hard enough time deciphering much of the code in Twitter, Facebook  and if it was up to me, I would have one on hand called "chipper" which basically like wood... chopped all those up. 

I was good with email and happy with cell phone vs having to know everything and nothing.




Anyway... I was really pumped on my ride yesterday, in beautiful weather, with a blog in mind for you today. I geared up my CBR 300R and proceeded 105 miles (165 km) riding various back roads and even dry sand/gravel rural routes. Temperature was a wee bit cool the first half hour, but by 3 pm very pleasant. 



In fact I found the area know as Bonshaw, did some walking, watched some trout anglers wetting some fly's. In all my years, I had never been in this heart of the Island.  Twisty roads, nary a cloud in the sky and before long while in the heart of the hills, I found my paved road got less paved and more potholed, to eventually only dirt roads, and soon leaf cover and I was the only one there.  It would made more sense to be riding my Serow Yamaha, but it was dry enough to in this case, run what ya brung!



What I had was a 6 speed, clip-on handlebar, fully faired Honda. 

There wasn't going to be any stand up, just dodging water/mud filled holes and tilted watch for the big hole!

I know my riding friends may doubt me but hey, I wasn't about to speed home and come back on the 225.  I had snapped about 50-60 pic after all to show off this pretty area code of the Island.

So I thought...

As if having to deal with a "new look" blog  wasn't enough... I find out today... well actually what I didn't find, were yesterday's photos! 

It's rare, in fact I can't remembered that last time I had such bad luck.

Long story short, like many things in life, if you blink, you miss it!

So my combined 5 hours on the road with the little CBR included back country ATV and Snowmobile trails.  I just can't prove it.  Guess I'll have to do it again. 

In the meanwhile, I'm going to ad lib some photos that may give you an idea of what afternoon was like, and another day... I'll come back to retrace my route. You'll just have to take my word on the Honda portion, for now.

One more thing... please Mr. Blog guy/gal... I'd appreciate taken the well travelled route for me and keeping it.

My BEST pals...

The importance of  furry creatures in our lives.

Some times someone gets out of joint because I blog (babble?) about my cats, or animals in general. 

If you think I do... I have just two words... Too Bad!

I love animals and cats in particular.  I'm still cautious of big dogs... my boyhood memory of two white Husky's dragging me around our corner lot in the community of Kensington...  Edmonton, not PEI, AB.  Not their fault of course but when you get a bunch of kids hanging out playing games, one of which involved a well chewed "rag doll" a 4-5 year old and fear!

The scars of sharp teeth and jaws are still visible 60 years later.  Shame because I think I would be a great "Dog guy." 

Anyway... I made up for it by supporting the Meow  sect, having grown up with dozens of cats with a special bond with those that were in need of homes, loving and caring, especially those that really were on their last lives.  Many that know me refer to me as the Cat Whisperer! Don't know how much truth there is to such things but certainly many of my feline friends needed someone in their corner. 

I've unabashedly often put my furry pals above my two legged ones. 

I'm so much a cat guy that for the years I "dated," my bio specifically pointed out that I was a "Cat Guy"  and if your weren't a cat gal... not to bother clicking on my stats!

As I sit here at my desk on Spring Valley PEI, I have Coco nagging me for more food Dad!

She is the cat I found under the tarp of the Ascot at my home in Glendale AZ about 3 years ago.  She was very shy had obviously been in distress, but a patient week with food (I was already feeding Boo my own lone pal from next door)  Over the next couple weeks as she became bolder, I could tell she had a hard life.  She had at one time a broken tail, lower jaw and suffers from seizures. In other words, she was exactly what I was attracted to.  Boo wasn't keen on having to share me and my digs but I think she came to accept Coco, who I named after Coca Cola.  I tried to fly her home with me that December but rules didn't allow it.  Quick brainstorming between neighbor Judy and her sister in law and we had some assurance that Coco (from my Coco days) was well placed for the winter.

As often happens, that winter I planned her escape and I made my way back to Phx the following spring, I got her check-up.  Shots, transient papers and I was rocking in anticipation.  That's how it came to be. 

A couple of years have passed and apart the tremors and seizures and the occasional punch up with Willy, we're doing okay.

:)

Okay, back to Motorcycles...  

This is for William... cuz he like excavators.

HI Little guy... I know you can't read yet, maybe another month, but when I was out riding my motorbike I came across the huge machines, on the brakes and out with the camera.

What are they?

Maybe pretty soon we can visit at my place, I even have a bed now for a young man like yourself!

You know you're getting old when...

                                                                                                     

 You can feel it when you push around the C 70.

A twin seems like a lot.

Changing the knobby on your dirt bike takes all day.

You can use two liter oil containers as part of your fitness routine.

or... twin containers of chocolate muffins.

If you're feeling really energetic, put muffins in the containers.

If you feel really energetic, washing your bike is on option.

A long ride is from the Island to Moncton. ..and you wished the ferry still ran.

Your trail bike falls over and you wonder if you can still manage to get it up.

You find the keys to the house, that you lost yesterday.

Once you have your keys, you can't remember where you live.

When you have more than 2 dozen cylinders but can't remember what they were.

After moving through the ranks of your many bikes, of the five registered... five are under 300 cc!

You see a fox or a deer and say "Awe"

You don't know if you loved the good old days, but you can't remember what they were.

After a dozen laps on your grass track, you have to sleep 12 hours.

You sleep more than your awake.

The "TON" is now only 100 km per hour.

You go for a walk in your woods, and can't find you way back.

You've gotten over your fear of dogs you got at age 4.

People you sold bikes to when in your twenties, now call you "pop."

Instead of Paris to Dakar, it's long enough to get to Toronto.  That's Toronto PEI !

The "TON" is only a hundred "k"

You find you're repeating yourself.

Keep on truckin' ... you only live once :) 

   

Friends

I was outdoors this afternoon, enjoying some cool weather (just kidding, I'd rather it was warm) when good friend Chris Smith came round.  I was in my garage doing some minor maintenance and planning how I am going to spend my summer beginning with catching up on finding some way to get the best of whatever Summer we have and how I will deal with my two cats both of which are approaching middle age, them not I.

Willy, of course is like the million $$ cat, he was adopted from the Charlottetown Humane Society shortly after our move to the Island.  His timing was spectacular, we met the day before his "execution".

Luck? or Fate? Don't know, don't care.  I only had one cat prior to the cross Canada drive.  That was Phx, a kitten that made himself at home on one of my then frequents trips to Arizona, while I lived west.

After Willy we adopted Abby, a older female than desperately needed a new home. Since then, we've had some come and go but currently there is Willy, still kicking even those he has a myriad of medical issues (hence the $$ cat) and Coco a starving adult hiding under the tarp covering my Honda Ascot some years back.  Whether deliberate or accidental (not likely) she was in desperate shape, starving, fearful, and as I found out some time later, she has brain damage likely caused by a kick to the head (her jaw had been broken at some point) 

A more gentle kitty you'd be hard pressed to find... maybe Abby?

While working on the bike and tending to the pusses... I hear the sound of a well muffled four stroke single puttering into the drive.  I was pretty sure it was a Honda 300 because I have one.  Sure enough, even though weather was coolish, good friend Chris Smith, had rolled in on his wife's bike.  I've watched over both him and her as they began their motorcycle careers. 

If I had a pair of students, working on the art of riding and staying alive, I could use the two of them as poster children!

How do I know?  Well I was a Chief Instructor for a very long time. 

Chris reminds me of myself somewhat, he is a fine expert guitarist while I am strum a pretty dang good air guitar!  

With the restrictions across the country and in fact globally, imposed by the Corona virus, there hasn't been much socializing.  Taking a half hour off to "talk" bike was a well accepted break from my normal bleak days while keeping my distance. 

After Chris's departure, I hooked the booster cable up to the Triumph Thunderbird... it fired up after a few revolutions.  Unfortunately despite my efforts to trickle charge it through the winter, the newly purchased (last year May)  battery wouldn't hold a charge.  Until things are normal here, I deal with the battery replacement when it happens.