By Tom Dean

Remembering My Father And My First Motorcycle

It’s important to honor the memories of loved ones who have passed on.
Early this year, I said goodbye to my father, who passed away at the age of 82. A lifetime smoker, he sadly succumbed to complications of lung cancer. But it’s his life and his influence on me that I remember far more so than those last few tenuous days of his life.
My father was instrumental in my becoming a motorcyclist. He didn’t ride himself, but he provided the means for me to become interested in the sport.
In 1981, when I was the tender age of 10, my father bought me my first minibike for Christmas. It was a fire-engine red Honda XR80.
Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe the delight I felt that Christmas morn all those years ago. The magic of the holidays was intermingled with the magic of motorcycles. I know of no happier childhood day.

Back then, everything seemed bright and new. The XR gleamed with its bright red plastic and the exhaust system was a clean jet black (no rust on the muffler that eventful first day).
And eventful it was.

My father had never ridden a motorcycle before. But, being the dutiful father, he tried to show me how to ride it.
The XR kicked over quite easily and, somehow, Dad revved it to what seemed like 8,000 rpm. With that handful of throttle, my dad popped the clutch, and the XR promptly flipped, sending him flying off the back of the bike.

I consider this lesson No. 1 in learning how to ride a motorcycle—go easy on the throttle and the clutch, if you want to have a smooth takeoff.
My dad picked himself up and shook off the dirt. We picked up the XR that had traveled a little ways in the yard. Levers were bent, and grips were ripped, but the XR escaped mostly unscathed. There’s a reason those old Hondas are known for being indestructible.

I never begrudged my father for flipping the XR. His heart was in the right place. And isn’t that what kids want —parents who make the effort to teach their kids important life lessons, even if the lessons don’t go 100 percent smoothly? The effort and the shared experience, those are the things.
So, my dad tried again, this time with a lot less gas and a much smoother hand on the clutch.

After stalling a couple times, he got the hang of it and went riding around the yard, with me chasing him. I don’t know who was happier, him or me.
I eventually got my turn on the XR. At first, I didn’t want to give it any gas, for fear I might flip it, too. With my dad coaching me to “give it a little bit more, give it a little bit more,” I took my own ride around the yard.

From that first ride, I was hooked, and I haven’t turned back since.
Today, my bikes are bigger, and the speeds are faster, but the thrill of that first ride is still hard to top.
As I write this, I keenly remember the good times I had with my father. And that keeps his memory alive for me.
Is there someone in your life who helped you become a motorcyclist when you were first starting out? Let that person know what an important influence they had on you in your riding life.

We all started somewhere. Cherish those good memories. Even better, help a new rider or two to develop their own good riding memories.
When my dad dusted himself off after that first “flip,” he looked at me and said, “You have to respect the power of motorcycles, son.”
Nearly 40 years later, those words still ring true every time I leave the driveway.
Dad, you taught me more than you know.