Honda s65

The Law

One time while riding with a couple of friends through farmer fields, a squad car siren sounded from a nearby road. We stopped to see why, and were surprised when the officer jumped out of the car and motioned for us to come to him. Apparently he did not like the fact that we were on someone else's private property (as it turns out, it was his friend's place). He had us leave our bikes beside a nearby barn, and carted us off to the local cop shop. We were instructed to call our parents to come and pick us up. I was seriously worried mine would be quite annoyed, but when they arrived a couple of hours later, I don't remember getting into any trouble. I was dropped off to retrieve my bike and I rode it home watching over my shoulder. Little did I know that this would become a regular habit.

Ironically, the only time I ever spent on a motorcycle helmet-less was when my father volunteered to take me for a ride about the countryside. Although motorcycle licences were not required in Quebec at the time, a drivers license was mandatory and one had to be 16 to get one. Helmet laws had not yet arrived. But as great as it was to be out in the wind unencumbered, I wanted to be the one up front. So I purchased the cheapest 3/4 face helmet I could find and wore it in the hopes that it would make me look older as I illegally took to the road on my own. Whenever I saw a black and white, I would wish myself invisible, somehow melting away within that helmet. It must have worked because I never got caught, although there was one time where I was convinced I'd soon be wearing a less than fashionable pin stripe jumpsuit.

High Maintenance

As everyone knows, it takes money to keep any vehicle operating. Repairs, upgrades and of course gas and oil are always draining ones pocket book. My savings account held about $5 - just enough to keep it open, so the lack of a source of re venue was no longer an option. I needed a job! As luck would have it, just as I was getting desperate, one was offered to me.

A friend's father operated a warehouse and needed someone to correct a manufacturing flaw with the Flemming bottle and glass cutter kit. These kits were recalled from a local department store and numbered in the hundreds, maybe millions (how else do you think the product name has imprinted itself in my mind?). Each box needed to be opened, a metal rod bent to a correct angle, repackaged and resealed - over and over and...

The pay, however, was excellent, and it was all cash, so I didn't even need a social security card. The only problem was that the warehouse was located near Montreal's Dorval airport, and I lived more than 15 miles away. Public transportation was available, but far too complicated and expensive as far as I was concerned. So I instead opted to ride my Honda through some of the heaviest traffic of the city without a license or insurance. What I did have was my invisibility helmet which was almost as good. The first couple of weeks went by without any drama, but finally my luck ran out.