Twilight Before the Day of Dreams and Dragons

Preamble

      Most folks spent their childhood playing with Legos or G.I. Joe, but not me — I was exploring old lime stone caves, picking up arrow heads and rock climbing at seven years of age (unsupervised). At six years old I fired a gun for the first time (a 12 gage shot gun, supervised), did not hit the can I was aiming at and my shoulder was sore for three days. At eight years old I started "messing" with motors building junky old go-carts. At ten I was working, when not in school, cutting grass, and helping to plant strawberries. Also, searching past the cotton fields and Kudzu-Vines to pick poke salad or wild black berries to make a buck. Money was not easy to earn so I pinched every penny, saved it up for years and amassed a small fortune of a few hundred bucks. That was the stepping-stone to my first ride and my first real taste of teenage independence. A lot of bumps, bruises, and scrapes later I had the skills I needed to get my drivers license and take my old motorbike out on the open roads. I learned everything the hard way, (school of hard knocks) and found that riding a motorcycle was hot, cold, rain soaked, dusty, and down right uncomfortable at times. My first need was for transportation but soon I was hooked by the freedom of the saddle.  I loved riding so much I went on to build two more motorcycles before I invested in my first car. This rebuilder of old bikes has gone down a long road since then. This is my story of how I rediscovered the joy and excitement of riding. It was a twenty-one-year journey of a man with modest means to reach one of his life long dreams. Time can pass much too quickly and lady luck can deal a man a hard hand. But nothing can stop a man with a dream and the determination too see it through.

The Beginning of a Dream

I was fifteen years old when I got my first motorcycle. It was a used bent and scratched up Yamaha 175cc enduro. Being raised in the back woods, country of Morgan County Alabama. I had very little money and as there were not many jobs out in the middle of nowhere. I had to save every penny for years that I got from doing yard and garden work just to buy that junky old motorcycle. And I was proud to own it. After all this was my motorcycle and most of my peers were still riding bicycles.
            I had to rebuild the engine before I ever got my first ride on that old bike. I was young and inexperienced in the used bike business. And when I pulled off the jug I saw a hole burned in the top of the piston. Well you live and learn, never trust the guy trying to sale you something. Especially when he is 20 years older than you are and you’re still wet behind the ears. A few more weeks and a lot more yards mowed I managed to scrape up a few more bucks to buy the parts I needed. I remember cutting the gaskets out of a cereal box. Times were lean and I had to make do with what I had.
        When I finally fixed that old dirt & road bike and fired up the engine how sweet the sound was. Pop, pop, pop, was soon smoothed out to a loud buzzing like hum.
        My first ride was somewhat painful to say the least. I popped the clutch and landed in a bunch of thorn bushes so thick the bike remained standing up by itself. It was half an hour before I got myself and my motorcycle untangled.
        In time I learned how to control my bike well. And it was then that I became hooked on the feeling of freedom that came with each ride.  I rode my Yamaha enduro everywhere with the engine buzzing like a big old bumblebee around the countryside and the small towns I lived near. I loved to ride with friends or just by myself. I can’t count the number of old logging trials and narrow paths in the woods I explored.
            My best bud, Allen, and I would ride my motorbike together. Allen did not have his own motorcycle. So we would ride my bike to everywhere and back. We would ride to Brewer High School and the Snack Shack (a teen fast food hang out in Somerville). We rode that old bike seeking our teen adventures. And when we rode we always kept an eye out for one of the great mysteries of man, “women”. With the engine buzzing around the countryside, dirt or road riding it did not matter which. There were a lot of fun times and sunny days that I will always remember.
         For years I rode that beat up motorcycle and went on to buy and trade for two more motorcycles over the next few years. I had to rebuild the engines on these bikes too before I got to ride them. The biggest motorcycle I ever rode back then was a Honda 350cc. But my Yamaha buzzing bumblebee was the bike I owned the longest and rode the most. Not because of how well it rode but because it was in better shape than the other bikes I had at the time.
        Once my Honda caught on fire after I tried to put on a carburetor that was not manufactured for it. I had it in my mind that I would make it fit. You know teens; they have to try it for them selves to learn. I remember ripping off my shirt to have something to beat back the flames. Back then Honda motorcycles had gas tanks that were removable by lifting up the seat and unplugging the gas lines. A friend working with me ripped off the gas tank and through it in the yard to keep the fire from reaching it. We must have looked like a bunch of hicks jumping all around trying to beat out the fire. If you have not guessed it by now there was no fire extinguisher in this picture.
        Most of the damage was melted wires and what a mess it was. I did manage to buy a frame with good wiring on it and tore down my bike and rebuilt it back on a frame I traded for from a friend. It was to my good favor that I had a friend with a small motorcycle junkyard.  I had to learn to be a shade tree motorcycle mechanic if I wanted to ride at all back then. While other teens I knew had a little help from their moms and pops. I was not in the same boat and had to work hard just to scratch up a few bucks for what I needed. So it was almost three years from when I bought my first bike until I got my first car.

Puppy Love

        She was a blue-eyed blond with curves to match a Chevrolet Corvette. Her name was Kim and she sort of found me. I met her at Fun-Land skating ring in Decatur. I was just standing there when this gorgeous blond girl turned around smiling at me. Like a stooge I kept looking behind me thinking, “I wonder who she is smiling at”. She walked up to me and asked if I would like to couple skate. It was puppy love at first sight, and later that night I asked her out on a date. But to go out on that first date I would first have to overcome the bad luck that would befall me. Maybe it was some kind of an omen, who knows.
        While taking a Karate class at the Red Dragon in Hartselle, I tore the cartilage in my knee. Not having a car or the money for one, and like the hardheaded teen I was, I propped my bad leg up on the gas tank and rode with my busted knee. With a splint on my leg I had to stand up to shift gears. I was going to see my blue-eyed blond big boobed teen sweetie no matter what.
        I rode my motorcycle everywhere, it was the only transportation I had back then. But motorcycles were not just a way to get from place to place for me. It was a way of life and a very special part of my life. I spent countless hours riding nowhere and everywhere. I did not belong to any motorcycle clubs, as there were none in my area back then. I had no other friends with motorcycles as most of the guys I knew did not ride. I was a lone rider, and when I was not riding I was reading about motorcycles, (Easyriders Magazine and such). I loved to read about all kinds of bikes and the biker lifestyle. The reading was fuel for my dreams of living for the moment and the freedom of the saddle.
        I had to sell my Glenn-field 22 caliber rifle just to have the money to take that blue-eyed blond gal out on our first date. I used to love target practicing and just shaping up my aim. Cleaning my rifle and squirrel & rabbit hunting were a favorite pass time for me. I never did kill many little critters, guess they were to wise for a teen with no hunting experience stomping around in the woods of Oden-ridge, Alabama. But I did shoot up a lot of old oilcans. Strange enough the squirrels did seem to take pleasure in taunting me when I did not have my rifle with me.
        While I had been camping as a young boy with my grand paw, (Paw-Paw as we kids called him) had passed away before I was even a teen.  And my dad had been gone since I was three years old. So I had to try and learn things that fathers and grand dads teach their young men on my own.
          I remember walking many miles deep into the woods a lot back then. Hiking was the thing I could do with my next best friends, and that would take my mind away from the troubles of the day. Chiggers, poison ivy, and the cow itch vine were just a fact of life in my boyhood exploration of the deep woods here in the tail of the Appalachian Mountains. I remember once I was with my two half-breed hunting dogs. And I had walked past the springs and old hollow behind our house. Miles more almost to the old lime stone caves and waterfalls. I decided to knock back in a field of tall grass and I sat down to take in some of the warm suns rays.  There was a gentle breeze caressing the top of the tall grass making it dance in swirl motions. My dogs were full of fire that day; guess they had memories from our many uneventful hunts.
         While my mind was drifting with the clouds I could hear them barking up a storm in the distance. I came back down to earth and noticed that the barking was getting louder. It was the kind of barking that told me my dogs were hot on the trail of something. Probably a Possum I thought. I just hoped it was not a skunk or worse a diamond back. Then I saw the tall grasses parting like the red sea with dogs jumping and running. They were running to fast for it to be any of the little critters I was thinking of. I stood up just in time to see a wild rabbit running at full steam straight at me. My good-ol-dogs had no idea I did not have my rifle anymore. The wild hair made a 90-degree turn with out missing a step or breaking its speed. And in the blink of an eye it was gone, lost in the sea of tall grass. My dogs just stopped and looked at me with an almost human like expression. As if to say, “Dang it! I dropped that varmint in your lap and you let it get away!” They trotted off and pouted the rest of the day. Dogs just don’t understand the things a guy has to do for his gal.
        I later went on to marry that blue eyed fair-haired gal. Wish I had kept the rifle; it brought me more pleasure than she ever did, (but that’s another story).
        On the day we got married, my new wife, and Allen who was the Best Man from our wedding, stopped by a Honda Dealership.  We looked at all the bikes much to the boredom of my new bride, (guess some things are just not most women’s cup of tea). My eyes went to the big cruisers of that day (Gold Wings and such). 
        My heart started pounding and I felt myself slipping into a world of sleek lines and sharp mechanical fantasy. The horsepower of the BIG engines seemed overwhelming and almost unimaginable. It was as if I was in a dimension of pure cycle beauty and art like form. The cool street cruisers had curves flowing beautifully into each other.
        My mind was lost in a sea of chrome and I promised myself and to my new wife and best bud, that one-day I would own a really big street cruiser. Allen made the same vow then too for himself.
            The price tags might as well have been a million bucks for me, and Allen at the time. I did not know how but I was sincere in my vow that somehow, someday, I would own a cool big engine street cruiser. I was seventeen at the time.

                                                            Stillness of Time

        Time passed as time does and I found myself caught up in the every day run of the mill of, work, bills and taxes. That seems to be one thing every man cannot escape. I got older, my wife ran off with my best friend and I sure miss him. (Little joke) Actually, Allen and I just lost touch over the years as life lead us down different paths.
         One by one I sold my motorcycles. My Yamaha 175cc had spent most of its better days so I sold it to, and my last bike, my slightly scorched Honda. I saved up my money to buy a 70s something Chevy Malibu with a big dent on the side and a smoking tale pipe to match. This now meant I was on the boring, practical, work my life away road. But when you get married and are starting out at the bottom of the ladder looking up at all the rungs you have to climb it is the more practical things you buy.
         I later divorced and got a good job in Huntsville (best I was able to get for my lack of any experience). As the years passed by there were many jobs and women in my life. I kept putting off getting a motorcycle because of the lack of money. But I would dream of the big street cruisers and remember my buzzing bumblebee. I would remember how free my spirit was when I rode and that feeling cannot be put into words.  The feeling of the wind and the sun on my face stayed with me in my dreams. And I would ask myself, “How much longer must I wait until I have the money I need to buy my dream”.

Dark Haired Beauty

        Janice was a dark haired beauty with dark brown eyes. We were a pre-internet couple, (pen pals), who would-a-thunk-it, meeting a gal that way. I remember walking into her living room and seeing her for the first time, my jaw hit the floor. She was gorgeous, a real hottie as the younger kids say today. We both were swept up in a whirlwind of romance at first site. It was like Gone With The Wind all over again for this good-ol-southern boy, only I did give a dam.
               Joann, another dark haired beauty, which had been living with me, was now out of my apartment. Just about the time I started dating Janice. And Pat the girl friend before Joann had moved out over eight months before.
           So the shadows from the past year before Janice finally faded from my life. I have always liked to have beautiful women around me, (what man doesn’t). But I was getting tired of this week’s girl friend and who knows six months later who it will be. After all these years of living the singles life I finally met that special gal that would one day be my wife. We married seven weeks from the day we met. I was twenty-five years old at the time.
        Now I had married for the second time and starting a new life. I went to college and later got a good job in electronics. By this time I had passed the big three “O” and became more intergraded into middle class life.
        I started looking at motorcycles, new ones this time, with hope. I wanted to buy a Harley Davidson but got a house instead. Practical choices won out again, and as boring as they maybe they do seem more popular with wives. I had made up my mind that I would not settle on a small street bike just to have one right then. I was willing to wait until I had the money to buy the motorcycle of my dreams. So I went on to build my house, which was only two miles from where I was raised as a kid. And I had more responsibilities then ever before in my life and with them came more of the practical way of living.
        There were many exciting times that happened as the years went by. Life with my 2^nd wife was good. Janice is uninhibited, and a free spirited woman. We loved camping in the deep woods and skinny-dipping in the cool waters of small ponds & creeks with our friends. I remember once while we were camping in the fall with a group of friends. We were setting around a campfire, and I was trying to warm off the goose bumps I had from swimming. A lady friend of ours was telling us about signs and the Chinese’s calendar. She told me which sign was mine. And that memory of her tale inspired me for what would be my first tattoo years later.
               Janice worked with me over the years to build a life and a home. We both focused on goals together and worked to reach them. We went from a raggedy pair of blue jeans to cover our butt and a 2-dollar car, to a new car in the garage and a four bedroom, two-bathroom house.
        More time passed and after so many years my dream bike seemed closer than ever to being a reality. I began to dream of the big engine street cruisers and the feel of all that power pulsing in my blood with every piston stroke. I could feel an almost spiritual connection of this vision. Someday soon I knew I must be one again with this living dream of man, machine, and road. Visions of chrome, steel, and art like motorcycle perfection danced in my head. Just when I was getting to the point where I would be able to find a little time and extra money to even think of that dream bike, disaster struck my family.

Dark Days

        They say disasters happen in threes, I am not a superstitious person but in my family’s case it seems that this is true. First my grand mother passed away from heart problems and a few years later my mother died in a house fire. Soon after my mother’s funeral my mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer. Two years later Janice’s mother passed away. Janice and I were the only children our folks had. So we had no one to help us bear this terrible burden. Now it was just my wife and I alone, as the rest of our immediate family had passed away when we were children.
               My mother and mother-in-law did not have any insurance and the cost of their funerals wiped out any savings we had then. But I was not even able to think about any dreams of mine. Grief, and the financial problems brought my spirits down for a long time.
        I sank into depression and tried to find ways to keep my mind off of the losses over the past 5 years. I worked a lot of overtime on my day job and started moonlighting with a home Internet business. I also started a nightlife to spend the rest of any free time I had. Met a lot of new party friends and had one too many mornings with fuzzy memories and hangovers. I had never been much of a party animal before. Guess I was sowing my wild oats late in life and the timing was appropriate to provide a distraction from my problems.
        Three years later and three tattoos later I began to get my focus back. As my head began to clear, I found myself caught up in the trivial tasks of the everyday middle class oh-hum life. Too many years had gone by and I felt all the things that were important to my individuality, were being squeezed completely out of my life. Work was consuming too much of my time. All my effort, and creativity were drained away by each workday. I found myself on autopilot most of the time. And there were vast periods of times when I was carrying out my obligations like some kind of biomechanical man. I am not sure when I became aware of it, how long had my life been this way? Maybe for months, or maybe for years . . . I love life with all its flavor, exhilaration, surprises, and wonder it can bring. But something was missing, where was the real freedom and excitement that I had once so long ago.

Restless Spirit

        I stared at the computer screen on my desk. Trying to track every retrace line as it moved across the display in a futile effort. The things I had been working on, the ones that had seemed so important just a few moments ago. The work problems had not gone away, they just somehow did not seem important anymore. I began to finish my tasks and take care of the workday problems. But something was bugging me bad. Something was under my skin and it was not the typical Alabama tick. I could not quite put my finger on it. Finding the answer was not going to be as easy as digging it out with a knife and burning it with a cigarette lighter. A question kept arising in my mind, “Why am I here, where is the excitement in my life”.                        
           This was difficult question I was asking myself. I was soul searching for substance in my life. “Where is the passion that warms the blood and makes the heart beat faster”? I had it once long ago, where and when had it gone? At the moment I could not find the answer or remember.
        It had become obvious to me that something had to be done. Change had to be made in my life or I would lose that special part of my spirit that any sane man cherishes. A solution had to be found to find the excitement missing from my life that stirs a man’s soul.
        I have experienced this before, lost this fight before. But this time is unlike any other. This was a conflict to define who I am, and of what can become of my life. To lose it would extinguish the flame that is in my heart, my spirit, my lust and love for life. Ever increasing demands and commitments have required me to sacrifice the quality of my life for too long now. I realized just how wrong this was. Many men have been plagued with having to travel down this road before me. How long will I have to travel down it?

It is not enough to Exist 

                It occurred to me that there must be some way to find a balance of making a living, and the demands essential to live.
        Some were deep in the recesses of my mind I could hear a buzzing bumblebee in the distant. Suddenly I had a clear perspective; there was a path that could help me regain what was missing from my life. Whenever a man lets a dream die a piece of his spirit dies with it. And I had let a long time dream of mine fall to the wayside. The memories of a free spirited young man began to surface.
        I remembered riding down the country roads with the feeling of excitement, the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I needed to ride again and to find a ride. I needed to live again and have fun. Not the domesticated kind of fun but red-blooded, fast and rough fun that stirs the soul. The kind of fun that makes noise, makes your heart pump faster, and makes you know you are alive.  Long ago I had made a promise. One day I would own a cool big engine street cruiser.
        My dream, the motorcycle it’s self, is just a symbol that represents something much more important which I cannot find the words to describe.
        When I attempted to express this to people I knew, I was met with a snicker and “Midlife crisis,” or similar wise crack. “Midlife is thirty-six years old? Whatever.” Call it what you want, put my dream down if you have to, but that does not make it less important. Only my wife tried to understand even though she had never ridden a motorcycle in her life. It was not a good time to get a new motorcycle with the finances and all. But I realized that there is never a perfect time for something like this. And I made up my mind that rich or poor I had to make my boyhood dream come true.
        So I started looking at new motorcycles again, the big street cruisers. I did have an idea of what I wanted but did not know just yet what kind of bike I wanted to get. It did not have to be the most high priced bike or top of the line. I have never been one to keep up with the Joneses. But I did want a big badass street cruiser. After twenty years of waiting the choice was not going to be an easy one.
       

The Quest

               I looked at and read about a lot of big street bikes. And to write about all I considered would go well beyond the scope of this story. So my top choices are what I wrote about as they relate to the path that lead to my dream.
               Now it had been a long time since I have kept up with motorcycles, years in fact, and I was really under informed. So I had a lot of catching up to do. But I figured why not start with one of the oldest and most popular makes of motorcycles made in the good’ol U.S of A.
               I like bikes styled after the 40s or early'50s, the big Harley or Indian V-twins. There is just something so cool about them. Maybe it’s the history behind them or just the nostalgia. So, I went to a Harley Davidson dealership to check out the hogs. My eye was on the Harley Softails. The 50s classic look and all the chrome had my head swimming.
               The big 1450cc V Twin engine with twin cams, chrome accents and duel chrome exhaust would make any biker’s heart pound. The one thing I did not like about it was the belt drive. I like the look of nostalgic styled motorcycles but I did want more modern technology in the bike I would own. In other words shaft drive would be a big plus. And as some bikers like antiquated motorcycles, I just wanted the look of yester year.
 Harley Davidson does make some beautiful motorcycles. But just like anything that has a big name, often you find that you have to pay for the name as well as the bike. I got a price quote from the dealer over the Internet. Then I went to see the dealership to talk shop to try and strike a deal. The dealer said that in 30days they would have a teal color Heritage Softail Classic. The salesman almost had me but when we went into his office to talk. The price jumped up to over ten grand above what I was first quoted. I quickly came back down to earth. So I decided to take my time and do a lot more looking.

               I wanted to talk to other bikers that had been in the saddle for some time and get their opinions on different makes of bikes. I like the nostalgic look of the Honda VTX (Retro 1800) with cast wheels to give it a retro-modern twist. But at the time the VTX Retro had not been released for sale yet. I did get to set on the VTX 1800, something the Harley Davidson dealer won’t let you do. The Harley dealer actually had signs out saying, “Don’t Set On the Motorcycles”.
             The VTX 1800 has the look of a chopped bike. This street cruiser has the “look”, and one of the beigest V-twin engines I have ever seen. I was thinking very seriously about getting this bike.

             There is just something that I like about the VTX retro-modern styling and something that I don’t like. I could not quite put my finger on it. So I decided to check out other makes of motorcycle cruisers and do a little more homework before paying out my hard earned bucks.
          Next on my list were the Yamaha Road Star cruisers/ tourers. I liked the Road Star Warrior. This bike is very sleek and modern looking. And a step away from the classic look I had been seeking. But after reading about this street bike I was impressed.
The Yamaha Warrior had me reconsidering the vision of my dream bike. I liked that it has fuel injection but the engine is air-cooled and the bike is belt driven. After all that Yamaha put into this bike why not liquid-cooled and shaft driven to boot? But I went to see this fire breather up close and personal.
         Have you ever seen a picture of a pretty girl and when you met her in person somehow she just did not look as good as in the photo? Don’t get me wrong the Yamaha Warrior is a sharp bike but somehow it looked smaller than in the photo

.
               I’m a big guy so I wanted a big bike; I need a bike with lots of power and that has a big cruiser look. The Warrior has the power to impress but not the size to intimidate. Basically in my mind’s eye it’s a “Crotch Rocket” that looks like a small cruiser.  Just like trying on a jacket this motorcycle just did not fit me quite right.
          My next stop was the Kawasaki Vulcan cruisers. And I had my eye on the Drifter. This bike is styled after the 1940s Indian motorcycles. And is a big street bike that felt good to set on. The Drifter has a 1470cc V-Twin engine and is liquid-cooled.
               All the style and modern technology give this bike almost everything a biker could want in a motorcycle. And it has shaft drive. Guess it is obvious by now I really wanted a bike with the clean running shaft drive. After all the bikes I owned so long ago I wanted to upgrade from the mud and grease slinging chain or belt drives. 

               This bike with its distinctive styling has some very big pluses in my book. And I was almost ready to call this the end of my quest and ride off on this cool motorcycle.  But I decided to sleep on it and look just a little more. After all, while all the bikes I had looked at so far are great cruisers, I wanted the right bike for me; it had to fit my personallity and style.
               A coworker of mine had owned over thirteen motorcycles. “Allen”, not the same Allen from my teen years, had owned Yamaha, Kawasaki, Honda, Harleys and Beull. I told him about the type of bike I was looking for and asked what he thought. Allen answered me straight and simple. “If you want a dependable motorcycle that you don’t have to worry about get a Honda. If you get a Harley you will have to put a wrench to it every time you take it out.”  I like Harleys because they have style and they have got the sound. But I took into consideration what he had to say with a grain of salt and continued to do my homework.
               A lot of time had passed and I had checked out over a dozen street bikes and cruisers/ tourers. Talking to salesman after salesman had not helped me to make a decision. My head was swimming with all the choices that were a good match for the picture I had in mind of a cool street bike for me. I felt like a starving kid in a candy store that could only have one piece of candy.
               So I took a little time off my quest to think things out. While thinking things over I went on a camping trip with my wife and some friends. We had been having fun in the sun all day from hiking, volley ball games, and cookouts.  We all went skinny-dipping in the cool stream waters to top off the day and started a campfire to last us into the night. We all were a free spirited group having good clean fun in the outdoors. Some of the women had put on their clothes but the rest of us were still undressed. Me too, standing with my feet on the naked Earth and my tattoos were the only thing on my skin, two of which are Dragons. 
               There was an aura all around as the full moon lit our campsite. The reflection off of the pond looked like thousands of white fireflies on top of the water. The campfire crackled and popped while it cast a warm reddish-orange glow on the skin of the women still with nothing on, and glistening with drops of water from our swim. My mind drifted as I watched the flames twist and flicker around the wood, back to years before, on a night not unlike this one. Only it was colder and my wife and a few friends were setting around the campfire. I had been the only one brave enough to go swimming and now was covered in goose bumps. I stood next to the fire to warm my cold bones.
               We kept the fire going and one of the ladies was talking about the Chinese’s calendar and signs. I can’t remember her name but she asks what was my birthday. I told her it was in December 1964. She looked it up on a red scroll she had and told me my signs under the Chinese’s calendar was the Dragon. I can’t remember it all but I do remember this as she read, “might and power are the symbols attributed to the Dragon.” “Possessing great strength, wisdom, and dreadful power, the versatile Dragon is capable of soaring to the highest heavenly heights.”
               Later when we got back home, I remembered this night as I read an article on the Internet about a motorcycle that was called the Dragon. The term I read was, “For those who dare to ride the Dragon”.
               I went looking for this Dragon. I wanted to check out the bike I had read about on the Internet and that looked like no other bike out there. So I went back to the Honda dealer in Decatur to look again. But the Decatur dealer did not have it. So I went to the Huntsville Honda dealer and they did not have any new of the bike I wanted to see. But they did have a used one.
               From across the showroom I saw a used black 2000 model. From first site it was obvious that just seeing photos of this motorcycle did not do it justice. As I walked up to this bike the shine from the chrome-covered engine was like a beacon to the eye. The focus of the design is on the engine and focus on it the engineers did. Visually it is the centerpiece of the entire motorcycle design.  Everyone saw this chrome covered flat six that walked into the dealership. You could not help but have your eyes drown to it.
               Up close this motorcycle was huge and it’s engine was massive. This bike had a few add-ons from the previous owner. But was basically a stock bike. It was a very heavy motorcycle, and it was obvious that this is a strong man’s bike not meant for the meek. I sat on this monster, and it felt a little scary. It was then that the vision of my dream bike became clear. And I knew then that the end of my quest was near.

The Allusive Dragon

                        As I looked this pre-owned black motorcycle over my heart started to pound, hard and fast. It was as if I was under some kind of spell. Setting on this mammoth size motorcycle felt good, real good. It had a monstrous horizontally opposed six-cylinder 1520cc engine that is liquid-cooled, six carburetors, free flowing six-into-six exhaust system. The alternator pumps out a whopping 546 watts for lots of power hungry add-ons. Other touches include a smooth-shifting, five-speed transmission, and a dependable shaft drive system. Also it has a maintenance-free hydraulic clutch, electronic ignition and hydraulic brakes.  And a racing-inspired 45mm inverted front fork mounted to large-section, aluminum-alloy top and bottom triple-clamps. Polished aluminum hollow-cast wheels set off the whole package. Smooth running and sophisticated for long-distance cruising. This motorcycle was designed with the attitude.
     

It's over eight feet long, and has a dry weight of 714 lbs. With styling that could be easily customized for a nostalgic or modern twist.  This bike has everything a big boned biker could want. And chrome, oh so much chrome, I thought I would have to put on my sunglasses to get a good look at the engine. Guess it is obvious by now I had made up my mind.
               If you are a Dragon rider yourself then you already know the motorcycle I was going to buy. My top choice and my dream bike was going to be a, Honda Valkyrie. And best of all, this bike is made in the good’ol U.S of A; every Valkyrie rolls off the assembly line in Marysville, Ohio. This was a very sharp bike indeed but I wanted a color other than black, even though the Valkyrie wears it well. I don’t know about where you live, but in my neck of the woods you can’t swing a dead cat around with out hitting a black motorcycle. Also, I wanted a virgin bike with zero miles on it.

               My wife walked around the Valkyrie and looked it over. She then looked at me and smiled. She said, “it suits you, it suits you well”. I smiled back at her and said, “I know”.
               The Honda Valkyries had not changed much over the past 7 years. They have the same specifications from the 96 models to the 2003 models. The colors changed from year to year and after 98’s, the seats got a little more padding, but that’s it.
               So now that I knew what kind of motorcycle I wanted, it was just a matter of finding a brand new Valkyrie in a color I liked. I did not know it then but finding one would not be easy.
               It had been a little over a year since I started looking for my dream bike. At the beginning of this quest I only had a fuzzy image in my mind of what I would be riding after all these years. Now I could see the vision of my dream bike clearly.
               But by now it was late in the riding season. And every dealer told me the same thing. They did not stock many of these bikes because most people could not handle a bike this big. And if they could, a lot of them were inclined to buy a Gold Wing. One salesman told me he rode a sports bike for himself. But he also rode a Gold Wing because it was the only kind of motorcycle his wife would ride on with him. He told me that the Gold Wing rode like a stretched Limo and was not as easy as one to control.
               Something flashed in my mind about practical choices, and wives. A memory or two from years before in my past began to leave a bad taste in my mouth. This was no time for practical choices. I wanted a muscle bike. Back in the 70s the first Gold Wings started out as just that, a muscle bike.
               Then Gold Wing owners bought after market saddlebags, trunks, fairings, windshields, and radios. Honda saw that it’s customers had transformed its motorcycle. Honda followed the trend and now the Gold Wing is what you know today. The Honda Valkyrie filled the void in the 90s for those who wanted a big muscle bike with out all the other bulk. And the Valkyrie engine was setup to crank out a few more ponies than the Gold Wings that had the same engine.
                Every dealer told me the same thing that what few they had in stock had been sold back in the summer and it would be a month or two until the 2003 models came out. Always the cow’s tail, as my wife would say, last thing in the barn. And at the moment I was just that. Now after 21 years of being a day late and a dollar short.  Things were not looking good.
               Waiting for so very long for my dream bike, and now there were none for sale in my area. In fact one salesman from Cullman told me the only Valkyries he was able to locate was in Chicago. Now I had not been on a motorcycle for over 21 years. And a ride from Chicago to Alabama did not sound like the smartest thing to do for a first dream bike ride after not being in the saddle for so long.
               The salesman told me I could have the bike shipped from the Chicago dealership and pay the extra cost. Or I could wait a few months and he could order me one when the new models came out. This guy even told me he would have to have a down payment of 500 bucks if I wanted him to order a Valkyrie for me. And he said that he would only order a black one because they did not come in any other color for 2003.
               Now Honda was offering zero down for all new big bikes at this time. They had it posted all over TV and the newspaper ads. Also, I have never seen Honda have a year where they only made one color on the Valkyrie (who knew that ‘03 would be the year Honda only made black Valkyries). Anyway, I knew this guy was full of it. Guess he thought I had been under a rock for 21 years. This was my hard earned money I was paying out. I was not going to have a salesman from Cullman, Alabama dictate to me what kind of bike he was willing to sale me. I decided to keep looking and not just give up on one salesman’s word/ BS.
               So I would have to wait a little longer, “big deal”? It was a big deal because the riding season would soon be over. Old man winter was raring his ugly head and threatening to put any new dream bike in the garage for months. What an irony to have to park my dream bike for the winter just after I bought it. If there was a new Valkyrie in north Alabama I was determined to find it. The only question was where to look now.

Quirk of Fate

               There is a very distinct difference between the cagier and the rider. The cagier, driving in the cage, (some call them a car), and the rider cruising on the Iron Horse, (motorcycle). You’re not riding in a motorcycle you’re riding on a motorcycle. You’re not driving through the country; you’re riding in the country. When it rains you get wet. And when it’s sunny you feel the wind and warm sun on your face. When someone cuts his grass you smell it. And you can smell the farmer’s fresh cut hay, the wild flowers, and the cities miles before you get to them. You can hear, see, smell, and feel more of the world your riding in on a motorcycle. The biker has it in his blood, the craving for the freedom of the saddle. And after being denied for 21 years by fate, man I had the craving bad.
               I called and talked to every dealer I could find. I was at my wits end and coming to the conclusion that finding a needle in a haystack would be easier.  Just when it was about to look like there was no hope, the winds of fate twisted in my favor. I had been rummaging around on the Internet for dealers that might have eluded my search. I found a few that had, and called them with hope.
               Strike one, strike two, and third time at the bat. Only one left in north Alabama that I had not called. I was trying not to sound desperate when I talked to Bill, a salesman at the Honda dealership in Jasper, Alabama. Bill was an old biker with many years in the saddle. He told me that they had a 1998 Valkyrie Tourer. I said that I was looking for a virgin. Bill said that this was a new Valkyrie. I paused in bewilderment, “No, I am looking for a brand new Valkyrie”. Thinking that he had misunderstood what I was looking for. Bill said, “This is a brand new motorcycle”. Now I have heard of dealers with last year models before, but four years old and brand new? I said, ”brand new?” To which Bill replied, “Yep, brand new”. Thinking that something still was not right with this picture. I said, “with zero miles on it”. Bill said, “Yep, it has zero miles on it. And it’s on sale for $4,300.00 bucks off the list price.”
               My pulse rate went up and I had to know the story behind how they had a brand new 1998 motorcycle that had not been sold long ago. Bill told me the only reason they had such a deal was that it had been in crate at Honda where it sat in a climate-controlled warehouse for years just setting on the back burner. Up till 2003 a few lucky bikers were still able to buy a new 1998 Valkyrie. Who knew I would be so lucky to stumble across a gem like this. My luck has never been that good. Guess there is no need for me to ever buy a lottery-ticket again cuz I’ll never be that lucky again.
               I asked what color it was; direly hoping it was not black. Bill said it was a two toned bike, pearl red and ivory white. Kewl... times TWOOOO!! Trying not to sound overly anxious, I told him great, I would be down to look at it Saturday.  It was late Friday evening and waiting until the morning was torture. I don’t think I got a wink of sleep that night.
               When I walked into the dealership my eyes and feet went straight to the Valkyrie Tourer setting in the far back of the showroom. It was as if all the other motorcycles there in my path were just a dark blur.
              They had assembled everything on the bike but the windshield and wheeled it out for me too look at. I guess it was just the look on my face when I walked into the door. Bill met me at the bike and said, “You must be the fellow I talked to on the phone yesterday”. I said, “Yep, you must be Bill and this must be the Valkyrie you told me about” I said jokingly as it was the only Valkyrie setting on the showroom floor.
               It was a little dusty but it was one badass street cruiser. Being an old time biker Bill was cool and knew motorcycles. His great many years in the saddle showed through in the conversation. He told me about the 98 Valkyrie Tourers. And the story behind this motorcycle again but with more detail than our first conversation on the phone. The just of what he told me was that the 98s were a smooth ride and the bike has lots of character. A not so restrained hint of power that may be too much for the weak of heart, but for the strong it is just right. And the Fat Lady is rock solid and reliable.
               I had done my homework, so I knew this was not just a sales pitch. I sat on this beast and with out saying a word, I knew my quest had come to an end. The winds of destiny had brought us together and soon I would be riding off on my dream motorcycle. I did not bicker with Bill on the price and told him I would take it. We walked into his office to do the paperwork.

Twilight Before the Dream

               I’ll be the first to admit it: This isn’t a bike for everybody. Some riders just aren’t able to handle the weight or power of a machine like this. Some just aren’t committed enough to own a badass muscle bike like the Valkyrie. Or they are afraid they won’t be able to handle the attention, or the envy that goes along with it. Dragon riders understand. The Valkyrie seems to embody the absolute outer limits of what a performance cruiser can be.           
               I have heard of a few folks who have sold their Valks because they kept dropping them when backing, on inclines, or when they had passengers. Most had bitten off more than they could chew and knew it. I see a lot of novice riders buying bikes too much for them, but they don’t want to buy a smaller bike thinking people would make fun of them.
               Now after 21 years I was stepping up from a 175cc Yamaha dirt & road bike to a 1520cc street motorcycle. The night before I picked up my new dream cycle, my wife expressed her concerns. I knew I could handle the Fat Lady, but Janice had a few worries of her own for me. She said, ”you have not rode a motorcycle in 21 years, how do you know you remember how to ride one”? I looked into those worried dark brown eyes and said, “honey, it’s just like you have always heard. You never forget how to make love or ride a bike”.  She said prove it; let’s see you ride something.
               Now the funny twist to this story was that a year before I had won a bicycle in a drawing. I was at a bicycle & small engine shop in Decatur. And was having an inner tube put in my lawn mowers back tire. While I was there, and bored, I filled out a drop in the box entry slip of a contest for what ever. To my surprise I got a call two weeks later and was told I had won a new “Joker” stunt bicycle. Gee, too bad it had not happened 28 years ago. I would have been one excited kid. Anyway, I have never won anything in my life and was happy to park it in my garage. There it had sat colleting dust while I procrastinated in selling it.
               Now, my wife looking at it and said okay prove it. It was after dark and we live on a country road, so it was unlikely that anyone would see me. The things we men do to please our wives. Maybe she was that worried, or maybe she just wanted to see if I would do it. What a site I was, a 37-year-old fat man riding a kids stunt bicycle. Janice did not laugh and after a little coaxing I got her to ride on it too. Down the road she went giggling like a schoolgirl. “I still remember, wow!” she exclaimed, “I have not been riding since I was twelve”, Janice said. I said, “You see nothing to worry about”. Of course I had a little voice in the back of my head that shouted, “Hey buddy, that was no where even close to a flat-6 fire breathing dragon”. But I did not tell her that.
               Now that the insurance and financing had all been taken care of all I had to do was pick out a helmet. I drove to the dealership, and Janice would drive our cage back, while I rode my new motorcycle home. After 21 years it would be my first motorcycle ride in all that time.           

Ride of The Dragon

               I walked into the dealership and as before, all was a dark blur to me but the Valkyrie that was waiting for me. The bike looked very sharp with all the dust cleaned off. It was assembled with care and had a real magnificence about it.  I am so happy I got to get a 98 Valkyrie Tourer in crate, a good vintage.
               As I sat down at Bill’s desk and we took care of the final details. I only heard a few words of what he had to say. He said something about the warranty for the Valkyrie. Also, he shared with me a photo of his first motorcycle and it’s story. I’m sorry to say I only heard every other word of Bill’s story. All I could think about was my new Valkyrie. I bought an extended warranty with unlimited mileage so I would be covered for four more years above the factory warranty. That gave me seven years in all of coverage. You can’t beat that with a stick, Honda stands behind its motorcycles.
                I picked out and bought a 1/2 helmet or as I call them a skullcap helmet. I did not like the full-face helmets. Less helmet was all the better, that is my way of thinking. I stepped out into the parking lot where the service mechanic and Bill were waiting for me. The service guy went over a few details about the features of my new Valkyrie. And after a handshake with him and Bill: I was ready to ride at last.
               I put on my skullcap, turned the key and pressed the starter. The flat six growled as it awakened from its slumber. I pulled back the throttle and the engine roared. My wife turned pale white, so I smiled to reassure her. I was amazed at how smooth the engine was and that there was no noticeable vibration. I dropped it into first gear and heard a voice in the back of my head shout, “Easy with the throttle bud”. Now reality set in and I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. This was no buzzing bumblebee; this was a real heavy metal, fire breathing, six-gun Dragon. And I have been out of the saddle for 21 years.
               Wisely, I rode around the parking lot a few times to try and get the feel of this monster bike. And it was like wrestling a bear. I was not used to all the weight and the parking lot was long and narrow with barley room for one car to drive across it. The sun was at way past high noon; cars were pulling in and out making it a trying experience. I pulled up along side my wife and said, “let’s go, I have got to get out on the road.” It was getting on my already frayed nerves trying to concentrate on maneuvering in such a small space.
               I pulled up to US-78 highway, and just my luck, the traffic was bad. I finally saw an opening and took a deep breath and off I went. My heart was pounding and the bike wobbled a little cuz I was riding like and old man. Then I straighten up and saw that cars were coming up behind me fast. I quick shifted through the gears, pulled back the throttle and the Valk took off like a bolt of lightening. The cars in my mirrors that had been getting bigger and bigger fast, were now getting smaller and smaller, fast. It felt like I was holding on by my fingertips and my arms were being stretched a few inches longer than they were supposed to be.
               So much for a graceful start, I put my heart back in my chest. And soon had the Valkyrie under control. I only had a few miles to go before I could get on the back roads to home and get out of all the traffic.
               I turned onto Knight Road with just a hop and a skip then onto AL-69. I rode 20 or so miles and pulled into an old rundown country gas station. My wife pulled up behind me, got out of the car and I saw she had the color back in her face. I said, “Looks like you are not as nervous as before”. Janice said, “I started feeling better after I saw you could ride that big thing pretty good. But I’m not happy about you showing off as soon as you pulled into the highway. Keep that up Mr. and I will take away the keys.” She said with a playing little frown. I could not bring my self to tell her that my awkward start on the Valkyrie had not been intentional.
               In my excitement I had forgotten to buy a good pair of goggles to go with my skullcap helmet. A good pair of sunglasses would have to do until I could get some goggles. And I needed a coke and a smoke. So I had Janice watch the bike until I bought my wares.
               Most of the time I wear casual business attire, but today I was dressed to ride. Funny how people act when a big boned biker walks into their store. By the look on everyone’s faces and the way everyone in the store got quite, you’d think I had just stepped out of the movie, “The Wild One”.
               While I was standing by my new Valkyrie, drinking my coke, I saw that everyone who pulled into the gas station kept staring at my bike. And an old timer in an old pick-up truck could not resist talking to me about it. I chatted with the old guy for a while and after I smoked a cigarette I was ready to ride again.
               My arms were aching from holding on too tight to the grips of my bike. Then I remembered an old song by 38 Special, “Hold On Loosely”. So with the tune of the song playing in my head. I through a leg over the saddle and fired up the flat six engine. This time the ride was not the same. I had gotten over my nervousness of my first ride in all these years. And I knew as long as I kept my head about me the fat lady would take good care of me. With a lot less traffic on the back roads than the interstate, the ride was a lot more fun. I was enjoying the ride more than I had ever imagined I would. The Valkyrie rides like a dream. Once the bike is in motion its smooth with no engine vibration, just the feel of the road. Great handling and all the power a big guy like me needs to master the road.
               The sun was too my back and the wind was warm. And in a few more miles I would be turning off of the back roads and going north on the interstate. So before I got there I was tempted to test a bit of the power of my new Valkyrie but resisted. I did not want to leave my wife in the dust and the new engine needed to be broke-in before I pushed it hard.
               I turned onto I-65 and headed north. While I was riding I felt myself slipping into oneness; man, machine and road merged to function as one being. The elements, trials and tribulations of this world were but a whisper and soon were gone altogether. The great Dragon stretched out its wings and I was soaring out effortlessly into the world. This was a mystical land my six-guns dragon and I were now in. I had traveled down these roads before yet everything was new with wonders to explore.  Amazing new vistas stretched out before us. This world is ever shifting and changing with fruits to feed the most passionate of spirits and dangers to terrify the bravest of souls. I know this down into the depths of my soul. It’s etched into my mind and my bones. One twist of the throttle and new worlds await to be discovered. A motorcycle is the best way I know to get close to the world and the wonders it contains. I could experience this forever if only I could.  My Six-Guns roars in agreement as we ride into the twilight of the setting sun.
               I drift back to this world and ahead in my path I see the Hartselle exit. I turn onto highway 36 and ride to the base of the mountain where my home in the country lies. To my good fortune there are a lot of twisties all the way up. The roads used to be old wagon trails about one hundred years ago. And were covered in blacktop in the early part of the 1900s. I fly up twisting and turning while the golden-brown fall leaves flutter past me spinning in the air of my wake. Now the air is getting a chill to it as I ride up into the sky, the familiar smells of honey-suckle and home in the air. The sun is below the horizon, casting a blue ginger reddest orange glow beneath the clouds. So I pulled into my driveway and parked my new dream bike in the garage. My memory drifts back to a promise from the young man I once was. A vow I have now kept and I wonder, hope that my old high school bud “Allen” found his dream bike or will someday too. My ride was too short only 60 something miles. I would ride again tomorrow and dream of riding all night long.
               Life is about learning and new experiences. I learned many new things today and the experience is one I will never forget. I found out that the Valkyrie isn’t just big and powerful. I discovered that it’s nimble, adaptable and one of the best large-displacement motorcycles there’s ever been. I learned that you are never too old to reach your dreams and you should never stop dreaming. And never stop trying to attain your dreams, never let them collect dust and fade away.
               It’s true that you never forget how to ride. Even after 21 years out of the saddle. I can’t believe or understand why, or how long it had been since I had been riding on a motorcycle. Too many years had gone by much too fast. And one too many obstacles should have been over come much sooner. The reasons for such a long idle time and the wait seemed insignificant now. Time and fate can be hard, cruel and swift. But living in retrospect is no way to live and I look forward to the many years ahead and adventures to come of the ride.

 

Ride Safe, Ride Long, Ride Hard,

         Sincerely, El Jinete Del Dragón 

 Best Regards, John Froberg

F6Rider Webzine Story Index