A bunch of us were out for a ride one sunny Saturday afternoon, and like most dyed in the wool enthusiasts who eat, sleep and breathe motorcycles, we made one of our stops at a neighborhood bike shop just to check out what's new. It was the summer of '77 and the shop was the Toronto Motorbike Centre located on the world's longest street, Yonge Street. This relatively new shop was a dealership for a number of motorcycle manufacturers from the orient and had quickly built a reputation for aggressively marketing their products. Always on the lookout for a good deal, I entered the store in the hope of spying up some type of "must have" accessory that I had not yet known that I needed. Walking up and down the aisles of mot Two Bikes in Every Garage So while my riding buddies were perusing amongst the chrome gee-gaws, I purchased myself a motorcycle. Talk about power impulse shopping. But as we left the dealer, reality started to bite. I still lived with my parents who were less than keen about my two-wheel passion to begin with, and certainly would not be impressed by this latest addition. The memory of the hassle I had when I attempted to own a car and bike at the same time previously, which resulted with my one year painful separation from the motorcycle world, well, let's just say I wasn't ready for WW III. So how does one hide a motorcycle? Luckily for me, I had a friend, John, who had a garage and was amenable to me stashing the new bike in it, for at least awhile anyway. Unfortunately I would have to travel across the city to use it, but I decided to worry about one problem at a time. The following week I picked up the bike and proceeded to break it in. After the Honda, it felt rather small. I guess anything
My only notable moment on the Yamaha occurred one evening leaving a friend's home in downtown, Toronto. I don't know if the half dozen or more of Labatt's finest had anything to do with it, but I had decided to make a rather grand exit on my bike. I don't have any idea how high the rpm's were when I dumped the clutch, but I do remember smoking that rear tire for at least thirty or forty feet before being forced to shut down by a busy intersection. What a rush that was. To convince myself that I really had done that, I turned around to witness the long black stripe trailing back to the crowd, frantically flailing their arms about trying to rid themselves of the sweet smell of burnt rubber. What Was I Thinking? Maybe there are those who can find the time to enjoy all their toys, but it turned out that I was not one of them. I found that I had to force myself to find reasons to ride the 500. I quickly got tired of the time it took to just to pick up the bike from my friend's garage. So I finally brought the bike home and was forced to explain its existence to my parents. I was just helping a friend with storage problems - so what if I happened to neglect to mention that I was that friend. But I knew this game could not go on much longer. The bike was being used less and less, and sat mostly idle in the garage as a perfect home for wayward spiders. Owning two totally reliable bikes was not what I thought it would be. I was getting tired of the whole situation, and truth be told, regretted ever buying the Yamaha. Which begged the question, what was I thinking? |
orcycles, I came upon a middleweight Yamaha street bike. A fellow member in the York Wings MC had an older model of this bike and I was always impressed with its performance and looks. I looked at the tag attached to the handlebars and was quite surprised by the sale price (note: I believe it was in the $1000+ range, but this is a guess). The wheels started to turn in my head. My still new Honda 750K was a proving to be an admirable tourer, but it was bulky for around town. Wouldn't it be cool to be able to choose between a heavier bike for the open road, and a light and nimble one for the city's mean streets? Of course it would.
