BORN AGAIN

Written by John Kerfoot

In 1957 Harley-Davidson introduced the "Sportster" name. It was 883cc's of long, lean, low and manly bike; it exuded power and strength. This formidable image had a Walter Middy effect on anyone that rode it, transforming ordinary people into "Sonny Barger". 1959 Triumph introduced the Bonneville 650cc twin carb high performance motorcycle with classic looks and stylish lines. It was a perfect blend of form and function and offered an intangible quality that the average enthusiast might not be enough of a rider to notice - handling.

This was the beginning of a long standing rivalry for “King of the Boulevard Cruisers” in the sixties. I was a teenager in the sixties; in my adolescent years, "the turning point after which the future is redirected and confirmed." My older brother and his friends were already feeding on their testosterone and met at our house prior to their Saturday morning run. When they charged off on their bikes I would stand there in the driveway in awe of their freedom, and frustrated with my helpless position. My parents were wise enough to know that there was no sense in fighting with me. It was my destiny, and at 16 I purchased my first bike - a 500cc Triumph Tiger. The excitement and freedom this gave me was the fork in the road I needed as a teenager to forever shape my thoughts and actions. I was hooked on motorcycles forever. This was no mask to demonstrate how I thought, this was the real me, or so I thought.

It is well known that Motorcycling is a potentially dangerous sport. You can ride safely or you can ride recklessly, it’s all in the attitude of the rider. Along with the freedom came the excitement of risk, and as young adult now weaned off the Triumph Tiger and riding faster bikes, I often found myself starting off riding safely but edging towards the wrong end of the scale. On one particular motorcycle trip near Balsam Lake, a friend and I were riding identical Norton Combats, and in our typical street squirrel fashion we would slip stream each other everywhere we went. Outside of Coboconk my friend slammed into the back of my bike, causing us to drop our bikes and go unceremoniously sliding down the highway on our backs. Fortunately we weren't injured, however the bikes were banged up and we had to push them into town, straighten out some of the bent parts, and tie down anything that was hanging loose. I found my Norton was only running on one cylinder and traced the problem to a damaged coil. As I sat there trying not imagine my trip home on a 375cc single, a car pulling a little Bennelli Minibike rolled into the parking lot. The Bennelli owner offered his help and in a few minutes the minibike coil was lashed to my Norton and we were running on all cylinders. God Bless the Italians! The 4 hour ride home was thankfully uneventful and I mailed the coil back to the owner.

Two years later I was married and was well on my way to settling into family life. Established priorities had to be maintained; family came first and my motorcycling days were in the doldrums. Fast-forward 25 years, one marriage, 5 children, 3 moves, and 4 dogs later. It’s time for my mid-life crisis. I don't know if I’m in the right job, and I wonder what life is all about. There’s this deep need to know my destiny. Hey ! Wait a minute! I've been down this road before. The personae I've been presenting for the last 25 years needs to be re-vamped. I need to reintegrate with my inner-self. I need to take this feeling and transform it into an occasion to buy (“the family needs”) a motorcycle. Comedian Rita Rudner once joked "male menopause is a lot more fun than female menopause. With female menopause you gain weight and get hot flushes, with male menopause you date young girls and ride motorcycles."

This statement may be true for some, like the new riders who star at 40 plus and are executives by day and bad-ass bikers by night. These types tend to wear expensive suits at work and black leather with bandanas on the weekend. They don't drink from the well of life, they only take small sips. As in the case of a true enthusiast who may have to cocoon for many years, I knew before I disappeared from the scene that it was only temporary, so I stayed in touch with the industry until I could emerge once more to catch the wind.

Last year I bought a Ducati ST2 and headed for the Kawartha's with my teenage son in tow; to do a little male bonding and forget about the seriousness of life.