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Posted on December 20, 2012

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The first motorcycle my dad brought home for me shortly after I rode my bicycle without training wheels was a used yellow Honda 50. Could I have been 5 or 6? I remember riding it for what seemed like hours or all day on Saturday afternoon. We had a very long stony driveway where I rode – kind of like two driveways that connected our farm with 2 different roads and passed the grassy barn hill in the middle. I also remember a dirt circle track my dad made in one of the smaller fields across from the barn and behind an old chicken coupe. The circle track may have been later when I rode a Yamaha 80 and my brother chased me in a red go kart. He later inherited the Yamaha and I got a Honda TL 125. Motor sports ended there for me. I moved on as a lot of kids do – trying out other things and wanting to move as far away as possible from the stuff that made my family unique. But I remember each motorcycle and each bicycle and even my first red tricycle. Anything with wheels was important in our home. Wheels moved us through space.

Here is a Honda QA50 (1970) just like mine. This one’s a beauty! The photo is courtesy of David Cran.

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