Fairy-Tale Four

In 1986, as a sophomore at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater, I announced to my parents that I intended to buy a Kawasaki Ninja.

Their response was to give me a used Chevrolet Chevette.

Three years later, I was married. We bought our first house in June 1992. Child No. 1 arrived in May 1993; No. 2 followed 18 months and five days later.

At that time, bicycling was my passion, and its many disciplines filled my time and drained my savings. So, the purchase of my first motorcycle was delayed—again.

Several coworkers at the startup bicycle company where I worked rode motorcycles. Industry peers also offered advice. I began searching the classified ads.

A 1973 Honda CB750 appeared, asking price $3,000.

After selling a couple of titanium bicycles, I had sufficient money to buy the Honda. The owner was in Cleveland, roughly three hours northeast. I told him I would phone for directions after returning from a business trip.

I called as promised, but a Japanese collector had offered $9,000, which any fool would have taken.

The quest for my first motorcycle continued.

Sixties-era Triumph Bonnevilles, Norton Commandos and BSA Gold Stars filled my head. After considerable research, I finally settled on a 1974 BMW R90/6.

Bicycle/motorcycle journalist Maynard Hershon and Salsa Cycles founder Ross Shafer both spoke highly of the Bavarian airhead. This particular model had lots of “nines” and “sixes” to its credit: a 900cc engine producing a claimed 60 hp; a 462-pound curb weight with a 6-gallon fuel tank.

In early 2000, I discovered a well-cared-for R90/6 with 43,000 miles on the clock for sale near my home.

Problem was, I didn’t have a motorcycle endorsement on my driver’s license. I visited the owner and convinced him to give me a test ride—as a passenger.

I forked over $2,400, and he rode the bike to my house and parked it in the garage.
Two weeks later, I passed a Motorcycle Safety Foundation course, which, at the time, didn’t bypass the Department of Motor Vehicle’s written exam and parking lot test.

My local DMV was the hub for DUI offenders, delinquents and other scofflaws. Worse, for me, I killed the engine, toppled a safety cone and dabbed the ground with my left foot, failing the parking lot portion of my test.

Round 2 wasn’t much better. A co-worker had purchased a new BMW R 1200 C, just like the one that actor Pierce Brosnan rode in the James Bond film, “Tomorrow Never Dies.”

We decided to take the motorcycle test together. Just before my buddy arrived, however, I discovered the R90/6’s front tire was flat. Solution? Take turns on the R 1200 C. Fortunately, we weren’t handcuffed together, like Bond and Wai Lin in the Hollywood movie.

The modern boxer was much more responsive, with smoother clutch operation and less-touchy brakes. I passed the parking lot test, but, alas, my friend did not. It was a bittersweet ride home.

Two years later, both legal, we rode to the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America rally in Trenton, Ontario, with another coworker, who owned a red R 1100 R. We covered 1,200 miles, rolling through Toronto, camping at the rally and riding past Niagara Falls on the way home. By then, we were experienced riders and able to laugh about our DMV experiences.

In 2008, two years after moving to northern California, I sold my R90/6 to a first-time rider. Shortly thereafter, the economy tanked and the world spiraled into a depression.

There’s a fairy tale ending to this story. In September 2020, more than 20 years after missing out on the Honda in Cleveland, I discovered another four-cylinder Honda, a 1976 CB750F Super Sport. That one didn’t get away.

Now, about that Ninja ….

Gary Boulanger is an AMA member from Mountain View, Calif.