pi's motohistory:
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It has been a while since this group started, and I think many of you don't really know each other's riding histories, so I'll be the first to sum up mine. I think I may add rider bios linked off of the directory page if there is enough interest. Anyway, here goes. Those of you not wanting to journey with me through my meandering motorcycle past please feel free to hit 'delete' on your friendly neighborhood e-mail reader.

I have always liked motorcycles. When I was little I used to watch CHiPs and pretend I was Jon (Ponch was just too macho for me). However, I never thought much about owning one until I was about 14. I was a little younger than the rest of my classmates going to Harwood Junior High in Bedford, TX (we used to call it 'Harvard on the Hill'); back then you could get an M class license to ride a moped when you were just 15 years old.

I was playing tennis a lot back then; one of my friends had a Honda Aero 80 that he used to ride to practice at the public park. I asked him one day whether I could take it for a spin. He made the mistake of saying yes.

I took off and attempted to ride it down the narrow sidewalk just inches away from the tennis court fence. I didn't know about countersteering or anything cool like that so natually when I tried to steer it away from the fence, I ended up turning right into it and snagging the handlebar in one of the chain links. Boom, down at 15 mph; scraped knee, broken mirror, and bruised ego, not to mention the 6 courts of laughing spectators... I bought John a new mirror and he made me promise to never to even look at his scooter again. Scared me away for a while.

Fast forward a little. I'm now 19 and the year is 1990. I buy every motorcycle magazine in sight. I'm going to school at Texas A&M (a long story in itself). A 300+ lbs friend of mine, Tom, has a Kawasaki KLR650, and he's willing to teach me how to ride...

I don't know how many of you have ever seen one of these bikes up close before, but it's huge. Really huge. Dual-purpose 650cc thumper. Not to mention the preload was cranked waaaay up so that the sag was correct when Tom was sitting on it...when I got on the bike (I need help; where are the stirrups?) it didn't sag AT ALL. I could only have one foot on the ground at a time, and only on my tip-toes at that. Anyhow, looking back, Tom taught me...pretty much nothing and neglected to tell me how to countersteer (actually I don't think he knew either), but at the time I was just grateful to get some seat time. It was at about this point that I realized just how full of B.S. bikers are...he was telling me about this time that he couldn't stop his Virago in time before he hit a car and so decided to instead pop a wheelie so that the motorcycle would cushion the impact. :0 Yeah, right, and I can do a Nac-Nac (the patented Jeremy McGrath supercross move) on my VTR.

Anyway, so after a taste of that bike I started to REALLY want a bike of my own. Tom let me borrow the KLR occasionally that year and I (remarkably) only dropped it once, in a parking lot while stopped. Anyway, the next year I went and lived at home, which allowed me to save up some money...

I voiced my obsession to my parents, and let's just say that they weren't exactly thrilled. Actually, at one point they threatened to disown me if I bought one. So of course I went and bought one... <g> BTW this was 1991.

First I looked in the newspaper and Cycle Trader for a couple of months to see what I could come up with. I was a college student and therefore relatively poor. Luckily my parents were taking care of tuition, so all I had to deal with was books, supplies and entertainment expenses. I had saved up about $1K, which I had deemed enough to buy a good, simple motorcycle. Nothing fancy mind you, just something to get me on two wheels so I could learn to be Doug Polen. Came across an ad in the paper:

1987 Suzuki GS450l. Not pretty, but runs well. $1000 obo. <phone #>

I called the guy up, and he was pretty nice about answering all of my inane questions. I even had him ride it up to the dealer (I drove behind him) for a compression check and a once-over, then back to his place. The bike was kind of a standard/cruiser with a 450cc parallel twin. Sounded good, had a little rust on the mufflers, and the tank paint was messed up (black). Ended up purchasing it for $800, including a ratty old flat black full face helmet. I rode off, shaking (I had never ridden a real street bike before, and definitely not in traffic).

Now, as I couldn't really bring it home, so I kept it at a friend's apartment complex (thanks James!), outside. It was pretty homely so I wasn't really worried much about it getting stolen. Rode it everywhere for a few months. Amazing how that thing could accelerate (little did I know); at one point I was challenged to a 0-80mph race by my friend's slightly modified Mustang LX 5.0 and beat him by a bikelength.

Eventually I just got sick of hiding the bike and brought it home. My parents were actually very calm and didn't kill me, but suggested strongly that I sell the bike. I said "uh-huh, uh-huh" and promptly put it in the paper for $2500. <heh>

Countersteering was unknown to me. I didn't have an M class license (I actually didn't know that there was such a thing). I rode in shorts and a t-shirt. Luckily Texas has a helmet law or I probably wouldn't have any better. I wish I had somebody to teach me motorcycle essentials back then. <sigh>

So I rode, and I was content. But then...

...one day I was riding by the local Honda dealership (I *still* make that mistake... <g>) and CJHT (Clank, Jaw Hits Tank). There was a *beautiful* shiny 1990 Honda CBR600F for sale sitting outside the dealership. The F2 (like Steve's) had just come out, and apparently somebody had traded in their 1990 model for the newer model. It was red and black, which was very rare down in Texas (most were white/grey). I gritted my teeth and went into the dealer.

Two days later I arrived back at the Honda dealer. I made the purchase using

- the trade in for the GS450 ($900, not bad, huh?)

- a check

- two credit cards (I know, I know...)

While the dealer was finishing up the paperwork he invited me to take it around the block. It was dusk, plus I wanted to be careful, so I short-shifted up to third gear going about 60 or so on the access road and then whacked it open. Even at lower revs it was obvious that this bike had more power everywhere than my old GS. The tacho swung by 8 grand, then the handlebars attempted to yank themselves from my grip as the bike lunged forward and the whites of my eyes I'm sure could be seen for at least 100 yards. Holy cow! I let off and went back into the dealership with a big smile on my face. *This* was what motorcycling was about. (right)

I loved my new bike, although I kinda missed backlit gear light that told me what gear I was in on my GS. <snicker> I did notice that it actually seemed tougher to turn than the GS; later I would find that this was totally due to my lack of understanding of countersteering. The power was intoxicating, though, and I strafed the highways with abandon, although leaning it made me leery. Still in helmet, short-sleeves, jean shorts. No gloves, no jacket, no full length jeans. That's MR. Squid to you, bucko.

Recipe for disaster, no? Hah-hah...you are correct SIR...

I had just bought my 1990 CBR600F. Cherry!

3 1/2 weeks later, I was supposed to meet my friend (the same one with the Mustang, actually) at his house after class. There is a parking lot by his house that is just huge (see YSR through the fence story), and I had decided that it would be cool to learn how to wheelie. So since I was early I decided to practice in the parking lot. How to start? I didn't know. I had heard somebody say something once about 'popping the clutch', so I decided to try that first. It's just like a car, right? ;)

From a standing start, 4000 revs, pop the clutch. By popping the clutch, I meant releasing it suddenly with little slippage. The bike lunges forward and then bogs. Not enough revs, I guess. 6000 revs, bang. Same effect, although the leap forward is quite a bit more. 8 grand, bang. The front pops up off the ground slightly then slams back down as I chop the throttle. I do 2 more "successful" smaller wheelies, then decide to go for it; this isn't so tough, is it? 10K. Bang. Front end comes way up. I panic and freeze. Unfortunately this leaves the throttle WFO. Foom! (that's the only sound I can thing of to describe what happened next) I'm hanging onto a bike that is no longer touching the ground...because it's almost upside-down...

I pushed the bike away from me and the both of us came crashing down on our left sides. My beauty made a heart-wrenching cracking sound as it bounced slightly, then gracefully skidded across the rough pavement and to a grinding halt, pirouetting ever so slow-motion-like.

So I did what anybody would do. I immediately got up and jumped up and down, cursing myself soundly. I'll just summarize here: f*ed up left side plastic, broken left footpeg, broken left mirror, large tear in my backpack, scuffed leather belt (see, I was wearing protective equipment!!!), half of my differential equations book was missing a corner of the paper, bruises, cuts, roadrash, and a sizeable chunk of my right palm missing. Funny how you never really think about how bad roadrash could be until you have to scrub that crap out of your skin...BTW I had ordered racing gloves from the dealer and they actually arrived the day after this incident.

Anyway I took the bike over to my friend's and parked it in his garage and pondered what to do. My parents had no knowledge of the new bike...

Ended up getting a new mirror and footpeg, then storing the bike in a Shurgard storage garage for most of the winter. It was a weird winter. I remember going there at least a couple of times a week to drop off the car, pick up the bike, and go to school. This continued for months. I finally once again got sick of hiding it and brought it home. The plastic was still munged so I had planned to take it into a paint shop for repair.

About one week before the date to drop off the bike for painting, I managed my first real street crash. I was cranked over (felt like it, anyway; I know better now) coming off of a freeway exit feeling rather confident, as I had just dusted a new ZX-6E a few minutes earlier on the freeway (130+ speeds). Was doing just fine until...I hit that little bit of silt on the exit. Immediately low-sided (at about 40mph I guess) and lucky for me there was gravel on the ground that shunted me up the curb and right into a big pile of dirt. My fairing lower came off and I ended up with some scrapes, but nothing as bad as the wheelie crash. Set the lower on top of the tank and headed immediately for the repair shop.

Had it repainted (very squidly design, too) and repaired. The CBR never again touched the ground other than rubber except for a couple of years later when somebody backed into it and knocked it over, bending the handlebar.

That summer ('92), I decided to get into racing to increase my riding skills. I looked around for a while; I didn't really have much money at the time and I didn't want to go converting my street bike back and forth, so I ended up pretty bummed. Somebody had told me about YSR50 racing as a cheap way to get into roadracing, but I wasn't really interested at the time. How much can you learn; it's only 5 horsies? <scoff, upturning nose> Besides, they looked funny...

I happened upon a used race-ready YSR at a local shop that they had a deal on ($350!) that I couldn't pass up...so I bought it. It was *so* fun, and still is...my fiance April wouldn't let me race until we had gone to see one race weekend, so we went down to Waco (yes, the same town as the Koresh incident) to watch. It looked like they were going *so slow* and yet so leaned over; it looked like a lot of fun and it was very competitive! People were crashing and stuff all over the place only to get back up and keep going...we were about 1.5 hours into a 2 hour endurance when somebody died 20 yards away from us in a freak accident (I'll explain that one some other time).

Anyway, so I finally went racing that fall of '92. My first weekend out (the last race weekend of the year) I had an oil leak on my YSR; ran two practices and two sprints and crashed 6 times (1 highside where I flew about 10 feet off the track, 3 lowsides in my own oil, once braking too hard during a <cough> off-track excursion, and once braking too hard while leaned over, taking down another racer that I had been dicing with for 4th place. <g> All in all, good family fun...but actually I went home not knowing if I really liked this sport or not. Two days later I couldn't wait until the start of the next season.

That winter I bought new tires for my CBR. Not knowing any better and being used to cars, I naturally bought the biggest tires I could fit on the rims, which meant a 160 section rear tire. Let me put this in perspective...the F2 was running the same tire, but on a one inch bigger rear wheel width... Needless to say the contact patch was all screwed up (small at the limit) and I rode slower on the street after that, as the CBR took on nervous and twitchy handling traits. Hey, I didn't know any better and the dealer encouraged the bigger tire. Bastards.

I really got into racing in '93 and '94. The YSR and I started crashing less and less, and I was actually feeling pretty good about riding in general. There is just nothing like head-to-head racing, no matter what kind of racing we're talking about. Missed a couple of races at the end of the year due to mechanical problems and sharing the bike with a teammate and wound up 2nd in the Lightweight Novice class. The last race of the season in '94 our team suffered when our other rider, Darren "Spawn" Bortel, was used as a ramp while lying down on the track during a sprint. Don't worry folks, he's as okay as he was before the incident. BTW we have this on videotape if anyone wants to relive the moment...

My street riding has changed drastically since I started racing. I began to lessen my straightaway speed on the street and corner faster than ever while feeling more confident. Racing definitely helps boost ability and confidence, and at the same time makes you aware of just how little has to be wrong for a rider to crash; as long as you realize that the street is NOT the track, you can use the track knowledge to go faster on the street and yet still be safer than you were before.

Ali joined the team in the spring of '95; he's a pretty fast street rider who is not afraid of leaning. Again, see the story on the YSR impaling itself in a fence.

That next spring ('95) I sold my CBR and YSR in preparation for the move up to Chicago. Imagine having PMS for 12 months (!), with the notable exceptions:

- when I went down to Texas for Thanksgiving that year, I went riding on Darren's F2 with Ali on his ZX-7

- that same trip, I was doing my boy-racer impression while riding my mom's moped and slid it underneath a parked truck

In the spring on '96 I had the fever too bad and bought what I could afford: a 1990 Suzuki GS500E. I was actually looking for a CBR600, Hawk, Bandit 400, or a CB-1, but couldn't find anything I liked. The GS was a good little bike except it needed about 20 more horsepower (I estimated 30 RWHP). 500cc parallel twin, good broad powerband, chassis was ok.

I started becoming very active on the rec.motorcycles and rec.motorcycles.racing newsgroups, which is how I met John Maher. John had a helmet for sale so I went over to take a look. Turns out he had an original, pristine 1986 CBR600F; although I didn't buy the helmet he had for sale, we ended up going for a ride up Sheridan (that little strip of twisty/valley/forest part for those of you who know).

John later invited me to go ride with he and a few other people he knew, including his current SO, Lynn Yanis. Hence COMPoST was formed. See the story on the site.

Rob and Scott helped me put PVC spacers in the GS500's forks that summer, and that combined with new Bridgestone BT54's the handling was improved tenfold.

In the fall of '96 I participated in the 12 Hours of Texas (Denton, TX), which was a 12 hour endurance race for YSRs. Placed 1st in class with 3 other riders during this gruelling event, which was cancelled during the last hour due to flash flooding.

GS500 developed a lack-of-oil problem (operator error) and died during the warmup of the fall 1996 Slimy Crud Motorcycle Gang ride. I ended up trading it as part of the payment for my 1989 Honda RS125 that winter.

So, I was streetbike-less once more. Scott offered me several rides on his CBR and CL, but you know, it's just not the same as having your own bike. So in the spring of 1997 I again made the mistake (chuckle) of checking out the new SuperHawk. Love at first sight...the very next day I rode my new VTR out of the dealership under the expert camera eye of Scott Lambert.

COMPoST flourished in 1997, expanding out to about 12 active members; I hope everybody had fun. TWISTAR was a blast, as was the Popsicle Ride that fall.

That about brings me up to date. Raced through the '97 season, although I feel like I got hardly any track time due to mechanical clumsiness. I have about 7K mi on my SuperHawk now and I'm ready for a set of new tires.

Oh yeah, last week I purchased a 1993 Honda RS125. Scott will be campaigning my '89 model this year.

What's coming up for me motorcycle-wise? More street trips I hope...Deal's Gap, Madison, or wherever. I think braided brake lines for the VTR are in order, but I really don't plan on modifying it much this year as my budget gets concentrated on racing. I hope to place in the top 5 in points for amateurs this year if I can keep the bike running. Oh yeah, and do plentyplentyplenty of street riding with the COMPoST crew.

That's about it. It would be great if some others would step forward with your own motohistories, however long or short!

--
pi.

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