Passes & Canyons Blog

The last time I’ve ridden my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom was early October when I took it to the shop for repair of the electrical problem that has plagued me all summer. It’s still sitting there.

Joel, who runs Mountain Thunder Motorsports, my shop, tells me the issue is a burned out rotor, which is on order. It’s been on order for six weeks now.

That’s a problem those of us who ride older machines run into with some regularity. It’s hard–or damn near impossible–to get parts sometimes. In this case, getting a new rotor is dependent on Honda doing a manufacturing run of this particular part. Presumably they wait until demand builds up and it makes sense economically for them to do it. Meanwhile my bike sits and waits.

The issue for me, however, is that if it’s another month before they do a run it will be sometime in December before I have my bike back. And that would mean not riding the bike even once in November. Anyone who knows me knows that is totally unacceptable.

I’ve been riding this bike for more than 20 years, and when I bought it I made myself a promise that I would ride it at least once a month every single calendar month. It got pretty iffy a couple times but in all these years I have kept this string going. But now it is threatened.

So I did the only thing I could do. I told Joel it is extremely important to me that I have the bike back before the end of November and if that means replacing the rotor with a used part rather than a new one, then so be it. He said OK, he would do that, and he promised I’d have the bike back before the end of the month.

Obviously I’m hoping this doesn’t turn out to be an expensive move. Obviously, a used rotor has more of a chance of dying soon than a new one does. Will I be right back in for another one all too quickly? I sure hope not. And it may be silly, so you can call me sentimental or whatever, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take to keep my every-month string going.

Recent from National Motorcycle Examiner
NTSB calls for helmet laws nationally

Biker Quote for Today

I don’t know, it’s kinda weird, but the constant chest pains seem to go away when I let the clutch out on my bike.

When my parents moved into a well-to-do development in South Carolina about 18 years ago I remarked that perhaps I’d ride my bike down to visit them there. They informed me that motorcycles were not allowed in this gated community. Of course I was indignant. The reason was noise, but as usual the community had not attacked the actual problem — noise — they had attacked what their preconceived notions focused on. That is, motorcycles.

Never mind that plenty of cars, trucks, delivery vans, and lawnmowers make a lot more noise than my 1999 Kawasaki Concours or my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who found this offensive, and while change takes time, change does occur. A few years passed and my father, who was the editor of the homeowner’s association newsletter, sent me a copy of the latest issue featuring a story about half of dozen residents who had ridden their bikes on a 5,000 mile journey. No Hell’s Angels, these retired engineers, accountants, lawyers, etc. And the community was pleased to see their neighbors having such a good time.

We just got back from there — Keowee Key, on Lake Keowee, outside Clemson, SC — yesterday. We went down for Christmas with Mom and the rest of the family. As my wife and I walked around one day I was pleased to notice a motorcycle in an open garage. Then the best of all was as we were leaving yesterday for the airport. Just as we were passing through the exit gate four leather-clad riders came up on their big cruisers and passed unheeded through the entrance gate. Things do get better.

One of the big events in motorcycling recently has to do with one of the smallest bikes. Honda recently announced that it has sold more than 50 million of its 49 cc Super Cub bikes. This bike was introduced in 1958 and is still in production.

For me, the bike has meaning because it was the first bike I ever dreamed of owning. Back in the early 1960s I was living in Nebraska and in those days you could ride a motorcycle at the age of 15. I believe it was in 1963 that Honda came out with the advertising campaign that said “You meet the nicest people on a Honda.” I still remember the brochure, with the shiny red and cream-colored bikes on a white seamless backdrop and young, happy people riding without helmets, without eye-protection–you know, the way it was back then. Up to then the biker image had been defined by Marlon Brando, James Dean, and the excessive partying that went on at Hollister, CA, and was then over-inflated by the media. Honda set out to turn that image around, showing that everyday, clean-cut folks rode bikes, too.

As I turned 14 I desperately wanted a bike, and the “Honda 50,” which was the only name I ever knew it by–none of this “Cub” business–was the least expensive and therefore most accessible bike around. It cost $300 new at the time. I had a paper route and I announced that over the next year I was going to save my money and when I was 15 I was going to buy a Honda 50. I saved scrupulously and by the time my 15th birthday rolled around I had $300 in the bank and I was ready. I announced my intentions and then, to my horror, my mother finally spoke.

“You’ll never own a motorcycle as long as you live in my house,” was what she said.

“But, but, but . . .” I protested, “I’ve been saying for the last year that I was going to get this bike when I turned 15 and I’ve saved my money. You never objected before!”

True enough, but the fact was that she would not budge. And all my dreams came crashing down. Years went by and I got sidetracked away from bikes so that even after I was no longer living in her house I didn’t get one. Finally, though, I did. And the way I did it at least balanced the scales a bit.

I was unemployed at the time. My reserves were running low and I didn’t know how I was going to make the mortgage payment. I finally decided I needed to ask my parents for a loan. They were happy to oblige but then I decided to take some of the loaned cash and buy a bike, instead of using it for the purposes stated when I borrowed it. So I paid $900 for a 10-year old Honda CB750 Custom with 19,500 miles on it. It wasn’t until years later that I told them where I got the money to buy that bike.

I still have that bike and I ride it plenty. Back in 1999 I also bought a new Kawasaki Concours so I split my time between the two. But it was that Honda 50, the Super Cub if you will, that I once craved more than anything in the world. And at 50 million sold, there must be a lot of other people out there who have found it appealing as well. Congratulations Honda.

I rode my Kawasaki today, its first trip for April. I own two bikes — a 1980 Honda CB750 Custom and a 1999 Kawasaki Conours — and I make it a point to ride both of them at least once a month every single month. I’ve had the Honda since 1989 and the Kawi since 1999 and haven’t missed a month with either. Of course there have been plenty of months when I’ve ridden each numerous times but even in the coldest part of winter I manage to get out on each of them at least once. I already rode the Honda about a week ago so today was the Kawi’s turn.

Of course this is one of the joys of living in Colorado. I read about how people in Wisconsin or Ohio or so many other places put their bikes up for the winter. You read articles about “do I drain the gas or should I just use stabilizer” and those things just don’t mean anything here. Sure there are plenty of days in winter when you couldn’t ride if you wanted to, thanks to deep snow, icy roads, etc., but it never lasts. You just have to be opportunistic. Maybe it’s only 30 degrees out but the roads are clear — let’s ride! Sure, tomorrow may be 40 but it may snow tonight. You never know, so don’t hesitate, do it now! You may not get a chance tomorrow. It’s a dirty job but you’re the one who gets to do it. How lucky can you get?