By Jim Luken

It seems the older I get, the less I know. One exception to this depressing realization is my current sense of how motorcycles influenced my time here on Earth. The pieces of this finished puzzle did not simultaneously drop into place overnight. Instead, they came at random times.

The frequent bubbling up of motorcycle memories prompted me, at 63, to map out my personal moto-life timeline. The process of recollection tends to unlock little brain rooms, and the contents come spilling out in surprising detail: the buying, selling and trading, the people involved, the lessons learned and the unique features—bad and good—of each motorcycle.

For me, it started about 55 years ago with a Lil Indian minibike. It had a cool, automatic two-speed drive system that frequently failed, as a result of a faulty one-way clutch bearing. When the bearing went, there was no go. I rode that Lil Indian until the engine was a disaster, probably due to my removal of the air filter.

Then, I convinced my father to see if we could trade up to something that better fit my growing stature. The Bridgestone dealer in Springfield, Ill., had just taken in a used Yamaha Twin Jet 100. The previous owner removed the mufflers and replaced them with straight pipes. A two-stroke with straight pipes is crazy loud, and when the dealer fired it up, I was sold. Unfortunately, the test drive was the one and only time that bike ran well.

When it was time for another trade, we went to a Kawasaki dealer in Jacksonville, Ill., and bought a new 125E Enduro. To this day, I have an incredibly vivid memory of walking into that dealer showroom and seeing several 125Es lined up against the wall. I recall almost nonstop riding with friends, as we traveled the country roads of the featureless Illinois landscape looking for any type of relief: ditches, construction sites, creeks. We even made an amateur movie of our exploits.

For some reason, I sold the Kawasaki to a friend and bought a Yamaha DT250. It was relatively heavy and low on power. And when I tried my hand at enduro racing, I planted it up to its fenders in a mudhole. I sold or traded it for a Suzuki 125 RM. Motocross racing was in the offing.

The Suzuki 125 RM was a production race bike, and I was lucky enough to be among the first in Central Illinois to own one. Everyone else had street-legal enduros modified for racing, which meant they added expansion chambers and removed the lights.

On my first motocross race at Peoria, Ill., I shot out ahead of everyone. Coming into the first corner with 50 bikes in pursuit is a memory that does not easily fade. I began taking trophies at every race and started to entertain the notion that I would be a professional motocross racer.

However, this dream faded when my competitors got their hands on production racers from Honda and Yamaha. My racing career ended just as I graduated from high school.

College, and then marriage, put an end to riding for about 14 years. But the urge persisted. And in 1987, I scratched the itch with the purchase of a well-used BMW R80ST. This was a type of early adventure bike that gave me numerous adventures in repair. A leaking gas tank was the last straw, and I sold it to a woman who was planning a cross-country trip.

There was another 14-year gap in motorcycle ownership. In 2011, I started working with some guys who owned bikes, and they got me in the mood again. This time I bought a used BMW R1150GS. It gave me the experience of adjusting valves and replacing a clutch slave cylinder. Although it had great brakes, it was heavy and it shook a lot. So I sold it to a fellow from Florida.

I test drove a Triumph Bonneville SE and bought one on the spot. Finally, a new motorcycle that yielded many problem-free miles. However, the longer I rode it, the more I realized its limitations as a long-distance bike. So, once again, I sold, this time to a recently divorced guy who was trying to introduce his new girlfriend to the world of motorcycles.

The Triumph was immediately replaced by a new Honda CTX 1300. This seemed to be the solution to my developing need for a long-distance touring machine. However, that Honda was an odd mix. The engine was velvet power. But the suspension was a disaster, and the long, swept-back handlebars killed my elbows and wrists.

At the young age of 62, I started looking for a motorcycle that would be comfortable and easy on long-distance rides.

By chance, I saw an ad for a CanAm Spyder RT. The owner was willing to trade for a motorcycle. So now I have a Spyder that my girlfriend and I regularly take to the North Carolina mountains. It acts almost like a motorcycle, has great storage, and two-up riding is a joy. The automatic transmission is really slick.

I’ll admit with some guilt that I also recently added a hardly-used Kawasaki KLR 650 to the garage, just because of the great reviews. And guess what? The reviews are correct. I’m now commuting almost daily on this thumper, and it makes going and coming the best part of the work day.

The thrill of riding is real, and the itch to ride is persistent. Unlike social media, motorcycles will actually expand the dimensions of your social circle. I don’t know where my timeline might end, but lately I’m thinking that a Royal Enfield might make a nice point along the way.