My used Honda 90 I bought at Frank's Honda BMW. I paid cash from paper route, two years worth. I don't remember how much. I had to put it in my dad's name. You could not own a car or bike then till you were 18 years old. My school of riding was: This is the kick starter, this is the rear brake, this is the front brake, this is the throttle. Happy Motoring.
Frank and his son would be killef a few years later on the bridge from Columbia to Wrightsville. A truck coming toward them on a 2 lane bridge did not see the slower car in front of them and swerved across the yellow line and hit them head on. That is what I remember. His older boy ran the shop for a while, then it closed.
I learned learning into turns, wheelies, breaking and everything else by trial and error. Error meant losing some skin. My worst spill happened when Jim at school rode with me. He was really good at cornering, I was not yet. We turned into a leaning curve in East Petersburg, I cut it too wide, the road had another road entering at the curve. It was a couple weeks after winter. I thought the stones they spread over winter were gone. I was wrong.
About 50 MPH the rear end slid sideways and I flew off. My knee was ripped up for the first. My left side foot peg was pushed up. They were not on a hinge like now. I was not bleeding too bad. Lots of Docs told me all my life I heal good. I guess a Caldwell trait. Lloyd always healed good too.
Jim rode my bike home, I rode his. Mom had a field day. I had the bike about 8 weeks. Jim, about 2014 was killed on his dirt bike. He knew how to ride, everyone figured he had a medical problem, he hit a telephone pole head on.
I used the Honda to deliver my newspapers. The biggest shock I got riding then was on the loop route. There was an older gent that kept riding the loop. I raced him one time. My 90 cc motorcycle beat his 50 cc step thru Honda.
We stopped and talked. He said he was going to soup it up. He said he would race me the next year, I would be amazed about the new power. Next year; we lined up at the light on a Sunday afternoon. I was always good at the green light. In all my years of racing, no one beat me off the line. The light turned green, I opened the throttle and blaster off.
Beside me I saw nothing. I heard his bike, a gutted muffler screamed at me. About the fifty foot mark he roared past me. And kept about 2 cars ahead of me. We stopped to talk again. He told me about boring for a bigger piston. Cams that open longer so more gas and oxygen in combustion chamber. Modifying the carburetor, more gas in, open the muffler more, less restriction out; more horsepower.
I started reading, and picking Lloyds head, since he worked on his brothers race car. When he had his trucking business, he modified the flathead trucks that pulled trailers, his were faster than others.
More to come.
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