Share your fondest memory of motorcycling

Just too many to list. As of next spring, I will have been riding for 50 years (with some breaks in between).

I'll list just a few:
* jumping a rail intersection on my IT 250 to launch well over 15 feet up and maybe 80 feet out
* doing 70mph wheelies in top gear on my KX 420 (what a lemon they were, though)
* finishing my first trail race that felt absolutely impossible, and beat 2/3 the field
* hanging out and leading rides for years, which has made me lifelong friends
* keeping pace with top pros on my RSV4 at Calabogie and gaining time on the brakes
* getting my first race podium on my anaemic R3
* getting 2nd overall in RACE AM Superbike on a 600 despite missing two races
* doing Deal's Gap area rides for so many years, and the camaraderie of committed riders
* picking up my first "real" track bike from Joey McRae (GSX-R 1000)
* uncrating the GSX-R 1000 racing bike from Clint McBain (see avatar picture)
* picking up my first RSV4, my v4 dream bike
* buying my first bike for $100, a Yamaha GT 80 in mid condition

Yeah, that's a few. But there are just so many more, over 5 decades. I first started riding at the age of 8, despite my father being terrified of motorcycles. He remained that way until the day he passed, but he let me follow my nose and supported my competition efforts.

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Your second place finish in Superbike is quite an impressive achievement.,that’s a very competitive class.What were you riding if you don’t mind my asking.
 
61 years riding...just too many good memories and few dire ones with weather.
Riding western Canada with my son ranks highest perhaps...cooling off after a very hot traffic filled trek through Yellowstone dodging bison horns way too close to my knee- 40 minutes later shivering at 9,000' + at Beartooth.
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but I see him every day on the screens rolling through my travel photos. Brings up lots of good memories.
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Early on clearing the entire top one of those flat top rail bridges in the St Catharines on the Honda 305 SuperHawk with a pillion on board ..... :eek:
Lighting a little fire under the crankcase of the same bike to get it going in winter.

Sitting around with other riders chatting at The Forks ...my northern office. Don't have anything similar here.

Chasing through the twists in PA with the vstrom wound right out to avoid deer'o
clock.

Too many memories to count...having a slow time making more....just too hot.
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Braaaap! NOTHING said serious injury and broken bones like the big bore two strokes. :love: Respect `em or suffer.
Yup. My neighbour traded me his IT400 for my CanAm MX125 (for his son, we were both 17).

You could get hurt just kicking that thing over.
 
Yup. My neighbour traded me his IT400 for my CanAm MX125 (for his son, we were both 17).

You could get hurt just kicking that thing over.
On the CR500 it took me a few months and many many kicks (and bruises) to realize that unless you kicked it just past TDC it wasn't going to start.
 
Your second place finish in Superbike is quite an impressive achievement.,that’s a very competitive class.What were you riding if you don’t mind my asking.
A GSX-R 600, formerly owned by Brett McCormick (I bought it from Eric Fiset). Good times. I ended up in 3rd in Supersport, same two missed races and one crash trying to defend first place from Mike Hood (who immediately also crashed into the front wall, sadly for him). If I hadn't given up a position to Fehr with a brief trip into the grass in one race, I might just have had the points to threaten 2nd in Supersport too, but it wasn't to be.

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My best memories are those of misery and mishaps born of bad decisions.
Things like ignoring the weather report and carrying on only to find myself riding in the worst conditions ever...
Or... passing a gas station with a 1/4 tank and thinkin "I'll stop at the next one"... only the next one never seems to appear until my range anxiety almost reaches max level.
 
On the day of the 2003 power outage, I rode from St. Mary's up to Little Baptiste Lake to a friend's cottage. Starting before the outage I didn't realize that it happened until I stopped for gas in Creemore.

I'd passed one light where a cop waved me through an non-functioning light, but it wasn't enough to tip me off.

In Creemore no pumps were running. Nobody could get gas. Except me! The woman running the gas station gave me what she had in a jerry can donated. The kid pumping gas ran over and got some from his house. Thus not having to cut grass the next day he hoped.
They wouldn't even let me pay for it.

While filling up, I found out that there was power in Minden because they were on a different grid - one based out of Quebec. So with a precious load of questionable gas, I headed off slowly for Minden.

Another really weird ride. I passed other bikes at gas stations, and would point to my tank and they would reply with the thumbs down.
Everything was dark. Hardly any traffic. Felt like riding after the apocalypse.

Made it to Minden and treated the NInja to it's only tank of Hi-test.
 
I did Mount Washington on my ST1300, I could see that being a little intimidating for some.As long as you look straight ahead and don’t look down as they say, most people will be fine. I remember as we were going up, you could smell the overheated brakes and transmissions of the cars coming down. I certainly would think twice about taking a new car with an automatic transmission up there. Did you get the “This Bike Climbed Mt.Washington” sticker?
I did get the sticker, and a photo that hangs on my wall. Did look out over the scenery but never down. Where the road turns to gravel the rider in front of me lost control of his bike and ended up with it wedged in the rocks at the side of the road with the back tire hanging over the edge. That trip up and down the mountain gave me a lot of confidence in my riding abilities but I still know I have a lot more to learn.
 
The most profound?

In 2008 I imported a 1500 Goldwing from the USA in January via enclosed trailer and spent several months waxing and making vroom noises.

When summer came, I kept thinking about Mount Rushmore, a place I always wanted to see after watching Hitchcock's North by North-West.

I mentally and tactically geared up for the trip, planning make the first stop in Ohio. If problems arose it was only five hours from home.

Then I got a phone call from Manitoba, an uncle had died and could I be a pall bearer. Every bone in my body said if I deferred the trip to Rushmore, it would never happen, so I declined.

The trip to Mount Rushmore went well, Ohio then dodging washed out highways in the Midwest, through Fargo (Not a woodchipper in sight) and Sturgis a week before the rally. I arrived, parked, took a selfie and was gone in a half an hour, heading to Wall SD for the night.

Then I headed north to Manitoba and at least paid my respects at my uncle's graveside.

I stayed with another relative for a day or two, being a bit tired of all day in the saddle fatigue and, sitting in Brandon, thought If I was normal, I'd be planning to head home via Greyhound to Winnipeg and Air Canada to YYZ.

The next day I was off to Winnipeg on the Wing, passing through Portage la Prairie where a week later a guy went psycho on the bus, chopping off a guy's head and trying to eat it. Glad I missed that. Superior country was beautiful, the weather great. Wawa for the night and home.

I still feel the trip would never have happened if I flew out for the funeral. Every once in a while, I toast my uncle with his regular, rye with diet caffeine free Coke.
 
The most profound?

In 2008 I imported a 1500 Goldwing from the USA in January via enclosed trailer and spent several months waxing and making vroom noises.

When summer came, I kept thinking about Mount Rushmore, a place I always wanted to see after watching Hitchcock's North by North-West.

I mentally and tactically geared up for the trip, planning make the first stop in Ohio. If problems arose it was only five hours from home.

Then I got a phone call from Manitoba, an uncle had died and could I be a pall bearer. Every bone in my body said if I deferred the trip to Rushmore, it would never happen, so I declined.

The trip to Mount Rushmore went well, Ohio then dodging washed out highways in the Midwest, through Fargo (Not a woodchipper in sight) and Sturgis a week before the rally. I arrived, parked, took a selfie and was gone in a half an hour, heading to Wall SD for the night.

Then I headed north to Manitoba and at least paid my respects at my uncle's graveside.

I stayed with another relative for a day or two, being a bit tired of all day in the saddle fatigue and, sitting in Brandon, thought If I was normal, I'd be planning to head home via Greyhound to Winnipeg and Air Canada to YYZ.

The next day I was off to Winnipeg on the Wing, passing through Portage la Prairie where a week later a guy went psycho on the bus, chopping off a guy's head and trying to eat it. Glad I missed that. Superior country was beautiful, the weather great. Wawa for the night and home.

I still feel the trip would never have happened if I flew out for the funeral. Every once in a while, I toast my uncle with his regular, rye with diet caffeine free Coke.
I remember that incident on the bus. I think the guy doing the chopping was found to be mentally ill.
 
Or... passing a gas station with a 1/4 tank and thinkin "I'll stop at the next one"... only the next one never seems to appear until my range anxiety almost reaches max level.
Been there ....really stretched it a few times on the CB500x riding in rural BC ...laughable.. was really on fumes and pulled off figuring I was toasted. Could not see a fuel station that was marked on the map. :unsure:
Nother rider pulled over and I asked ...he pointed slightly behind me through a screen of trees - it was actually on another parallel road the map didn't pick up....very grateful :rolleyes:
 
Summer, 1968. The hard core / punk / criminal dude up the street just got a 350 Honda.
He was 18yrs old, 6'4" 225lbs (400lbs later in life) full beard, intimidating af, etc,etc.
I had never spoken to him.......until I saw the gold shiney paint, chrome gleaming in the sun, on those 2 wheels.
I said "I gotta ride that". He looked down at me, and chuckled, saying "I don't think so boy", but, he knew I'd been driving my old man's 3 on the tree Pontiac.
I was 13.
I kept bugging him (while being afraid he was going to eat me, or worse) until he caved.
Hopped on and somehow "it just worked", and around the block I went.
Hooked ever since.
 
Wow what a great thread, and I don't know if I can just pinpoint to just one.

I always wanted to ride, but as others my family was dead set against it, and as the 'you're under my house...my rules...blah blah blah' I kept away from it until I moved out. Then I bought one immediately. A CBR125. It sucked, but it offered freedom and joy.

Moved to the CBR250R for about 5 years and 27k on it and that bike still brings me joy when I look at it. I did a 'Cold November Iron Butt Ride' with a handful of GTAM members and had a blast. A Busa, an 1100 Blackbird, and an 1100 Ninja...and my 250! Good times! Cold, freezing, and fell asleep on the ride home at 1am...but it was awesome.

That was followed by an epic camping trip over 4-5 days through northern Ontario with the Busa and had a blast during that trip.

My fondest memories are taking the bikes with my cousins on a trailer to the Barry's Bay area and bombing around while our wives hung out suntanning with the kids and I will always cherish those memories.

As more kids came, riding went from 10-12k/year down to 500km/year in 2025...which is making me question my desicision to continue riding as frankly I don't have the time.

But each and every time I fire up the Duc, listen to the exhaust, and blip the throttle on a downshift I just smile and wonder where does the time go and why I can't make it work.

The bike is up for sale still, with a final price drop that I took last week, but if it doesn't sell...shucks...guess I'll have to keep it!

But on the Duc it's simple...every ride I take I enjoy it, and going through Blue Mountains, Barry's Bay, Muskoka, or any other roads I've taken with @shanekingsley on his extended rides (even if I can't keep up) really put a smile on my face and I enjoy it.
 
And he`s out under a different name, living among us. The gator pond should have been the answer.
Schizophrenic. There are lots of them and although many are scary, drunk drivers are more likely to kill you. Alcoholics have a condition as well. Both need their brains rewired but we aren't there yet medically.

Schizos are OK if on meds to the point they feel normal and think they can stop taking their meds. A family I know had a son with the problem. When he died they found a shopping bag full of his Rx's under his bed. FWIW he was a brilliant scholar.
 
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