1985 Yamaha Virago XVN1000

Having recently sold my Honda xl500 street enduro, I was in a position to buy myself a new bike. Still annoyed with the pathetically short shelf life of a performance motorcycle (see Yamaha xs11), I concentrated my research in a segment of the market that placed more importance in style and drivability rather than dyno or track statistics. I also wanted something that would be easy to work on, and that had a classic rumble emitting from its pipes. I wanted a laid back riding position. A Harley would have been the ideal choice, but I also demanded rock solid dependability. This was something the shovelheads didn't have and the new Evo motors had yet to prove.

What I ended up buying was a Yamaha Virago. It had a wonderful air cooled v-twin motor that easily carried me and a passenger as fast as we reasonably wanted to go. With a set of Jardine slip-ons, it had that deep bass note that was authoritive, but not too loud. A few basic accessories such as highway pegs, windshield, luggage rack and throw over leather bags transformed the cruiser into a pseudo tourer. About the only thing that I found lacking was the leg room. The bike just felt too small. And don't imagine that I'm some tall dude, 'cause I'm actually below average in height at five foot eight, and my inseam is only 30 inches. It's just that I really like being stretched out when I ride, or for that matter, drive.

Black Sheep

Unlike today where there is far more after market support for metric cruisers, bolt-on parts for the Virago back then were quite limited. And riding a bike that so much wanted to capture the mystique of a Harley also garnered little respect from the crowd it wanted to belong to. Some creative craftsmen did wonders modifying their Viragos to a point that at first glance, it would not be obvious that the machines came from the land of the rising sun and not Milwaukee. But they too would be for the most part shunned by the elite.

I wrote letters to magazines such as Canadian Biker, as did many others, complaining about this lack of camaraderie with our American riding brethren. They were hurting our feelings by not waving to us, and sometimes went as far as to ridicule our machines. Didn't they know that Canada's largest trading partner was Japan and not the USA; that aside for Bombardier's short lived CanAm dirt bikes, we didn't build any bikes to be patriotic about.

The artist was unsuccessful in painting a decent wolf, so I traded for a Harley.

Apparently the subject was beaten to death as my letter was politely rejected for publication.

I was actually quite happy with the bike and rather enjoyed riding it whenever I could. I just didn't like being a wannabe. I once attended a Fall Colors event in Peterborough where the then relatively new Harley Owners Group had the privilege of riding on to the rally grounds in formation complete with chapter flags. An announcement over the p.a. proclaimed their arrival and I must admit it was an impressive entrance. As I rode home later that day, I realized that I missed being part of a club. It had been many years since I had left the York Wings MC and the greater Toronto area.