The Best Motorcycle I Ever Had

My first motorcycle was a 1982 Kawasaki 750 Z. I have no idea how many miles I put on it because the odometer didn't work. I also had no idea how fast I was going because the speedometer didn't work either. It had an electric start that worked until the second time I dumped it (which happened on the first day I'd ever ridden a motorcycle). With no replacement starter to be found, I quickly figured out I was going to have to learn how to start the bike by kicking it if I wanted to ride. At least the kickstart still worked.

When it was cold it could literally take about 50 kicks to get it started. One day I was kicking and kicking and kicking and finally my ol' man walked up to the bike, laughing, and flipped the kill switch to on. I'd have been pretty upset except that I managed to actually get it started after that with just two kicks. That was before we figured out the sequence to go thru with choking, compression strokes and sometimes a shot or two of starter fluid.

My kickstart and I had a love hate relationship. It seemed like I would always stall at the most inopportune times like in the middle of Little Rock at a busy intersection. I had to put down the kickstand and kickstart the bike with traffic passing me and a line of cars coming up behind me. My ol' man was almost through the light when he looked in his mirror and saw what was going on. I got it started and caught up to him having a another good laugh.

Even though my bike would usually get cussed for taking so long to start, there were sometimes I could almost kiss it. One night we went out to eat with some friends of ours. We had just finished eating and were walking out to the parking lot to the bikes. There was another couple that was parked beside us on their bikes. One of them was a big burly guy on a chopper with a kickstart. It took him 2 kicks to get it started and he said something smart like that's how a man does it. Everyone looked at me as I got on mine and got it started with one kick. Now that's how a girl does it.

Through all the heartache and grief the bike gave me, it was still my bike and I did love it. I knew that one day I would have to move on to a newer model. When the opportunity did come up to get the bike I have now, I was able to keep it so I didn't quite feel like I had betrayed my first love. Eventually I did start feeling bad about it just sitting there and not being ridden so I sold it to my little brother who was just learning to ride. He was the happiest thirty year old kid I'd ever seen.