I grew up outside a small town in Ohio, and my dad was my first influence in mechanics. Except for maybe a tech for our fuel oil furnace or the well pump, Dad fixed everything. He set the ignition dwell on his Pontiacs, adjusted the carburetor, and taught me bicycle and lawnmower repair, carpentry, and even how to work with aerosol paint. However, when I got a taste of go-karts, mini-bikes, and motorcycles, I had to look for others in the know.
At 13, while riding my go-kart illegally on my road, I crossed paths with someone on his bicycle who was as ready for “powered personal transportation” as I was. He saw my 3hp Briggs & Stratton-powered go-kart, and we talked about it, bonded. Then he bought an old mini-bike, and I bought one. He bought a problematic Honda 300 Dream, then a Honda Super Hawk, and I bought his old Dream. Learning about mechanics and bump starting along the way, we were 16 and had wheels!
Out riding, sometimes we would peek into shadowy garages to see what might be lurking there. Bob found a guy with old motorcycles in a big garage, bikes laying everywhere around his place. As a machinist and mechanic, this guy had a refined yet practical engineering sense. We learned he did not care for Harleys and once he showed us a set of Ariel Square Four crankcases. “They have a tendency to throw rods,” he said, pointing to the hole in the crankcase and explaining that he didn’t care much for British bikes. What Nelson had learned was that Hondas, which came to distant dealerships around 1962, were the best. “You can run these Super Hawk engines as hard as you want. They rev to 8500 RPMs and don’t shed fasteners or leak oil!” Here, we had our mentor who would show us the way with bikes for a few years. He put CB160 engines in S90s and Super Hawk engines in CB160s. No mechanical project was too difficult. He built a couple of small bike frames from half-inch conduit. I started feeling that working on mechanical things could “be my life!” This Honda guy was a full-tilt motorhead, and whether he knew it or not, was among our first mentors.
Working with my dad’s tools, we gained confidence to adjust a drive chain or fix a Honda throttle cable with a little soldering. The Honda shop was 30 miles away, which was too much of an adventure. We changed our tires, adjusted our carburetors, and tried our hand at candy apple red on a Super Hawk because we had seen others do it.
Today, by example, through this magazine, we can focus on the old motorcycle passion. This issue marks the 20th volume of the magazine conceived by Richard Backus. Like having mentors around, people who often know more than you, who can expand your universe and instill confidence, Richard circled a great crew of writers, photographers, and in-house staff who could edit, design, and print Motorcycle Classics. I’ve enjoyed motorcycle and car magazines since the early 1960s, receiving over a dozen a month, so I’m excited for the opportunity to lead this fine and unique magazine.
Back to the mentoring thing, you may be asking what you can do. When the situation is right, give a young person some of your old tools, extra wrenches or screwdrivers, or pass along an old magazine, maybe an unbuilt scale model. If some neighborhood kids are watching you work on a bike in the driveway, invite them in for a closer look. Through those gestures, you’re a mentor, keeping the old motorcycle enthusiasm burning in future generations.
