[Ducati] First Bike (was Confessions)

Fri Jun 30 12:19:35 EDT 2006

My first bike was a 1989 Honda CBR600F1 (bought new in 89).  I still
remember scaring the hell out of myself on many occasions on that bike!

-----Original Message-----
From: ducati-bounces at ducati.net [mailto:ducati-bounces at ducati.net] On Behalf
Of Ducman
Sent: Friday, June 30, 2006 5:25 AM
To: Ducati Owners Group
Subject: RE: [Ducati] Confessions

Good story Ted, I think most of us were reckless in youth. Everything I had
would be wound up to full speed on the lonely highways of my home turf, from
my first bike, '81 honda cm400e, to the '86 yamaha fz750. I was surprised I
and my friends made it out alive, the fz was capable of some fast speeds ~
145mph-ish. Now take the same kid mentality, that doesn't change from
generation to generation, and put them on the 180+ hp machines of today -
Yikes !

PaulM

-----Original Message-----
From: ducati-bounces at ducati.net [mailto:ducati-bounces at ducati.net]On
Behalf Of Ted & Vicki Brisbine
Sent: Friday, June 30, 2006 3:57 AM
To: ducati at ducati.net
Subject: [Ducati] Confessions

First I see the Rollie Free photo link posted here and then my wife comes
home with the World's Fastest Indian DVD (Rollie's in the movie).   It
reminded me of a story I wrote a few years ago (Rollie's in the story) about
my two-wheeled experiences.  I've copied an excerpt here about a certain
Yamaha that got me into trouble in 1970.  Maybe it will bring back memories
for somebody.    Ted

Ya ma ha's too hot

With the street stuff striped from my Matador, I was left with no road bike.
This will never do. My friend Willy had a street bike. Funny thing was, he
was only fifteen and his parents didn't know he had it. He left it at my
house until he noticed a few too many miles gathering on the odometer. Did I
mention that it was a beautiful green 500 Triumph? I can still feel that
mellow, throbbing pony underneath me. I should have bought a Triumph but
instead fell for the allure of a bike I had read about in the magazines.
Yamaha had brought out a two-stroke, twin cylinder, 350cc bombshell called
the YR1 Grand Prix. What is a YR1, you say? It was forerunner to the famed
(or infamous) RD series. It had a chrome-sided gas tank like the S90 but not
quite so aesthetically pleasing. It was reputed to be faster than Willey's
Triumph so I was on the prowl.

I found a local girl who had one and convinced her to let me take her (the
bike) out for a spin. By now Willy was riding legal and he led the way up
Stemilt Hill. I soon discovered this bike had a characteristic none of my
previous bikes had. The brakes actually worked! Unfortunately I made this
discovery on a decreasing-radius corner while trying to keep up with Willy.
Can you say "rear wheel lock-up and subsequent high-side crash?" As in,
flying off a steep bank into a rock-infested field. We had to chop the rear
fender off with a hatchet so I could limp home. The girl was not happy.
Turns out the bike was on long-term loan from her old boyfriend who was
still making payments, so he was happy to sell the bike to me. I fixed it up
and thus began a crazy year in the annals of my moto life.

The Yamaha was rather manic in personality. The motor was a big bundle of
razzmatazz and loved to go fast. In fact, that's all it really wanted to do.
Willy's Triumph was a strong runner and our bikes ran pretty even in a drag
race but his didn't mind being ridden gently. I should have bought a
Triumph.

When my friend Jim showed the slightest interest in getting a bike, I
pounced immediately and began feeding him tasty morsels of information about
another bike I had my eye on. Yes, the very one and only Bultaco Metralla.
This was not to be a good combination. But we were young and only had our
whole lives to lose. The best way to describe the Metralla is to say that it
felt like being astride a large razor blade. Bultaco had built a
championship-winning road racer and then decided to bring it out as a street
model with minimal conformity to civilized conventions. Actually it was well
mannered enough on the street but just a very, very effective tool for
carving a corner. For a 250 it would really honk too. And honk is the right
sound effect. Whip 'er the chocolate, as the Brits would say, and that
two-stroke motor would pull and honk like a big goose. My Yamaha would beat
it in a drag race for sure, but out on the open road Jim and I were nothing
but trouble.

I hope the statute of limitations has run out for what I'm about to divulge.
Jim and I thought it would be fun, and perfectly acceptable, to ride the
forty miles to Lake Chelan at the greatest possible speed whilst lying flat
out on our bikes, Rollie Free style. If you've seen the photo of Rollie
setting the land speed record of 150 miles per hour on a Vincent, you know
exactly what I'm talking about. He couldn't get to 150 with his clothes on
so he stripped down to slippers, a bathing suit, and a bathing cap and lay
down over the bike with his feet straight out behind him, hanging on like a
one big handlebar streamer. I wonder if there was a Mrs. Free? "Hi honey,
I'm home." "How was your day dear?" "Oh, fine. Got a little windburn
though." Trouble is, I can't blame our antics on Rollie because I didn't see
this photo until later in life. There were a couple of differences too. We
wore clothes, and while he rode on the Bonneville Salt Flats, we rode the
entire trip on the highway centerline. That way there was no need to worry
about when it was safe to pass. Also, our average speed to the lake was only
105, not 150. My friend Steve claims to have seen me whiz past that day. But
we didn't meet for another year, so I was wondering how he figured that was
me on the bike even before I told him the story. "Who else would it have
been," he said.

The Yamaha motor used to say things to me, such as; "Do you want to speed up
or slow down? What's with all this in-between crap? Make up your mind." In
an ill-considered attempt to appease the unruly thing, I developed a riding
technique for city streets which went something like this. Open the throttle
a good bit and run up thru the gears, which resulted in fairly hard
acceleration. Said acceleration continued unabated until a corner or stop
sign called for a lower speed, where I then hit the brakes. This would have
been fine had I been the only living soul in town. After a year of this sort
of thing the statistical probabilities caught up to me . in the form of a
black and white police cruiser. Actually the cop said he had a hard time
catching up to me. I was sedately motoring up Crawford Street (a 25 mph
zone) in my usual manner and didn't realize he was behind me doing 80 mph
and watching me pull away from him. Lucky for him I needed to make a right
turn onto Okanogan Street. Well, the jig was up. In a case like this they
don't just write you a big fat ticket and drive away. After bailing out of
jail, appearing in court, and pricing high-risk insurance, I tendered my
driver's license and was back on a bicycle for the next three years. This
gave me plenty of time to think about my next motorcycle.

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Ducati On Line thanks its sponsor and friend, Cycle Cat, maker of some of
the most beautiful products ever for Ducati's.
Visit http://www.cyclecat.com/

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