Honda s65

Crash and Burn

Riding in the rush hour traffic home on a very busy four lane boulevard, I was suddenly sideswiped by a large American made car. I was quite far left of centre in the inside lane when my left handlebar made contact with the car's front right fender. Before I knew what was happening, I was down on the ground sliding sideways. I think I was up as soon as I stopped, but everything was evolving in slow motion. My first thought was that I was dead meat. Not because I was going to experience pain, possible mutilation, or even death, but because I was involved in an accident when I wasn't legal.

Concerned citizens appeared from nowhere all around me asking if I was OK. "Yeah, yeah - I'm just wonderful; now go away," I pleaded. Then a miracle occured. The driver of the offending land yacht looked me over and decided my injuries were insignificant. With a final "Y'OK?" he hopped back behind the wheel and vanished. I had just experienced a hit and run, and I was euphoric.

A quick kick to the left foot peg straightened it back in line. Another quick jab at the kick start returned the engine to life. Then after looking carefully in all directions for any signs of the law, I hightailed out of there as well. The worse damage to the bike was a broken clutch lever, while I survived with only a gouged ankle and a scraped chin. In retrospect, it was amazing that I was not run over by the following traffic. In the end, I almost felt sorry for the other guy. He had a gouge on the side of his car running from the front fender all the way to the rear. I have wondered ever since what would have happened if he had not run, and if he still keeps watch over HIS shoulder.

The Easy Rider Influence

Having managed to escape what could have been a very serious situation, I decided that the money was no longer worth the risk and quit my job. Besides, by then I had more than enough cash to keep me riding. I returned to much safer activities like practising popping wheelies and terrorizing our local residential streets. But then it happened: I got bored.

That little Honda was one extremely dependable motorsickle. Just add gas and go. No matter how much I abused it, it always started without hesitation. Most of my friends could not say the same about their machines, and so were quickly becoming mechanically adept. This frustrated me, and I found myself secretly hoping something would finally break on the Honda so I could justify taking it apart. It never gave me that satisfaction, not even a flat!

Having to do something, I decided to customize instead. One of my buddies had ripped off a megaphone exhaust from a Triumph twin the previous year, and it somehow ended up in my possession. I originally had it on my mini-bike as it slipped on perfectly over the existing muffler, secured in place with a single pinch bolt. With the Lil' Indian gone, I decided to try it on the 65 and it fit like a glove. This was very fortunate because my meagre selection of tools consisted of rusted cast-offs that were better suited for pounding in nails than any serious mechanical undertaking. The bike immediately gained a powerful rip snortin' personality, or was just plain obnoxious, depending on your point of view.

Now that it sounded cool, it needed something to make it look cool. Off came all the sheet metal in preparation for a make-over. A trip to the hardware store for primer, magenta laquer, and laquer clear coat and in no time at all I had custom painted myself a beauty. It actually was a pretty good job. No runs or ripples and as smooth as rattle can technology would permit. I even hand painted cigar chomping woodpeckers on the sides of the tank. With the front fender discarded, it was as close to owning a Captain America chopper as this 15 year old could expect. Hell, I even started dreaming about a big bore kit from Powroll to take this sucker up to 80, maybe even 90cc. Lucky for me, events beyond my control prevented this from ever happening. After the FLQ crisis, the language hassles, and the lack of steady employment, my father finally decided to head for greener pastures. We moved to the centre of the universe - aka Toronto, Ontario.

Take a look at a snapshot of a spec sheet.