Jimmy Lewis
Editor-in-Chief, magazine
1981 Honda XR80
"It is hard to imagine that one little Honda XR80 could have led me down the path I've taken. That dependable, slow, twin-shocked four-stroke brought me into dirtbikes in an era of junk that needed to be modified to last and to go faster. It taught me about four-stroke power and made me crave two-strokes. I learned how to fiberglass plastic fenders, drill and re-tap threads, reinforce with rebar and braze and gas-weld aluminum (yes, you read that right.). I learned to adjust valves, time cams and do a lot of mechanical stuff that scares people off today. It taught me the value of a dollar, the rewards of hard work and how to get good grades in school. And somehow, in mimicking the photos I saw in the magazine on that very bike, it led me to where I am today. Good bike, that XR80. I still own about 10 of them!"
Kent Kunitsugu
Editor-in-Chief, Sport Rider magazine
1974 Kawasaki 750 H2
"Perfect: Marty Estes' restored '74 Kawasaki H2 is an exact replica of my first bike."
Jimmy the Greek, age 14, and his first motorcycle: a 1963 Honda C115 Super Cub Scrambler.
Jim Gianatsis
Publisher of Fast Dates Calendars and producer of the L.A. Calendar Show
1963 Honda C115 Super Cub Scrambler
"I was into roadracing bicycles as a kid, when in '62 my family moved to Clark Air Force base in the Philippines, a stop-over and staging point for flights to Vietnam. I quickly noticed that all the teenage boys on base age 14 or older had these cool little motorcycles called Hondas. Most of the bikes were 50cc C100 step-throughs and C110 Sport Cubs, but when I turned 14 I had to have one better. My pilot dad flew a military transport plane over to Tokyo and bought for my birthday a big-displacement 55cc Sport Cub for $175, which I promptly modified with a downswept C114 exhaust (in place of the stock upswept Scrambler pipe) and an NGK racing spark plug."My school mates and I spent our time cruising the roads around the huge military base in 'Wolf Packs' of 10 to 20 bikes like in the movie Hells Angels, racing our bikes down the high-school hallways after class, hanging out at the Officer's Club swimming pool on weekends and the Teen Club at night. In '64 my dad was transferred back to America, the Honda 55 was left behind, and my next vehicle at age 16 was a 1952 MG TD. Clark AFB was later destroyed in the mid-'80s by a volcanic eruption and abandoned."
Jack Lewis
Motorcyclist columnist and Iraq War vet
1967 Harley-Davidson 250 Sprint
"Our first bike existed primarily to hurt my dad. We watched in awe as dad kicked over our 'new' '67 Harley-Davidson 250 Sprint. And kicked. And kicked. Ethyl dripped from the carb.
"'Ya' know,' said my 260-lb. genitor, "sometimes you just have to get mad at it.' "He leapt into the air, crushing down the cruel stub of a kick-starter. The horizontal cylinder blared to life and dad triumphantly hobbled off on his sprained ankle.'Harley Sprints were popular for dirt-tracking, but ours was pregnant with street gear and offended by its spotty maintenance regime. To ensure Multistrada capability, we ran a ribbed streetie up front and a knobby out back.
"One day, dad hared up our half-mile gravel driveway right after work. The Sprint's engine snarled like a crop duster--then silence. Moments later, the doorbell rang. The creature on our porch resembled dad on its right side, but its left side was a gory blend of blood, skin and Hart, Schaffner and Marx suiting. It said, 'I sprained my ankle again.'"Dad bought a Yamaha and quit riding the Sprint, but I rode it everywhere and learned many lessons, none of which were 'trust the tires.' One afternoon I was in the garage, industriously flooding the carb, when dad came in to offer encouragement: 'Get mad at it, Jack!'
"I pinned the throttle, bore down with all of my 120 lbs. and POW! The end cap blew off the muffler, shot across the floor...and broke Dad's ankle!"
Joe Gresh
columnist and Key West barfly
Homebuilt mini-bike
"When my older brother rode his sleek, four-speed, '67 Yamaha 60 home from the dealership, I got his homebuilt mini-bike in a three-way trade that sent two minor leaguers to Boston. The mini was a 20-inch bicycle, belt-driven by a Briggs & Stratton 3-horsepower engine. My dad rigged the mini with a foot-clutch. You pushed a pedal down against a spring to tighten the idler pulley and engage the engine. Lifting your foot was neutral, the opposite of a suicide clutch.
"It looked pretty easy when my brother showed me the controls, but when my turn came I pinned the throttle, stepped on the clutch pedal and froze in terror. In retrospect, I should have removed my foot from the clutch. Mini and me drove WFO into the family Studebaker.
"The mini-bike was stolen a few months later, but by then I could wheelie the thing. I've never stopped looking for it. It had a pretty red gas tank, black frame and a goofy belt-drive, single-speed transmission. If you see it, let me know."
Ed Milich
Motorcyclist magazine contributor and author of
1981 Honda CB650 Custom
"My motorcycle roots sprouted when I was 18. At that time, the next logical step in torturing my poor parents with profound worry for my safety and continued deliverance from the dark forces of nature was to spend $1000 from my high-school graduation gifts on an '81 Honda CB650 Custom. My plan worked: Mom and Pop were instantly terrified. I quickly compounded their anxiety by T-boning a truck at a nearby intersection within my first month of ownership. Luckily, I rode away from my first crash-test-dummy experience with a fresh appreciation for defensive driving and an insurance settlement that funded some early two-wheeled travels. While my CB650 was as pleasant and trustworthy as the girl next door, it was as mild as a county-fair roller-coaster. Ultimately, it left my restless heart craving more visceral thrills."
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