Specialized, niche motorcycles are a relatively new thing in our world. Take the Triumph brand, for example. Up through the 1960s, the product line included basic street bikes in a few levels of performance and trim, and some off-road machines, like the TT Special for dirt track racing, 650s and 500s in high pipe form for scrambles and enduros. The machines’ equipment was described, but you could participate in any form of street riding or racing with any model Triumph made. Not much direction as to how you would use the bike was in the brochure terminology.
Today, our egos are played, I think, as we select between machines defined in Triumph and other brands’ promotional literature as touring, superbike, street fighter, dual sport, enduro, motocross, and… adventure touring. So, if your ego is grabbed by that word “adventure,” showrooms are filled with any number of 400 to 600 pound bikes with lots of ground clearance, 34-inch seat heights, luggage, extra lights, knobby tires, GPS mounts, powerlets, skid plates, heated grips and seats, and guards for everything that might get dinged in a tip over, all in the $6,000 to $30,000 price range. Then there’s the accessory catalog and the aftermarket to help you complete the sculpture. Adventure bikes are hip.
Don’t get me wrong. Many of these feature-laden bikes are a great ride, especially if you are on the tarmac. Upright riding positions, cushy seats, great advancements in comfort, function, dependability, and safety far beyond the offerings of a fine 1967 Triumph Bonneville (which, as offered new, was not intended for land speed record competition).
But let me introduce you to Drew Perlmutter. Drew is a hard-core rider in his 30s — which makes us old guys hopeful for coming generations of riders. And Drew is one of those adventure riders, but a lot of his adventurousness is focused on his motorcycle: a 1964 Honda CL72, the 250 Scrambler, worth only a couple of thousand were it at a swap meet. Other than repairs and patches here and there, the bike is stock, with really no accessories, and seems a bit worn beyond the patina word. Drew carries camping gear, tools, extra fuel, and a calculated cache of spare parts. Judging from some write-ups that attracted me to his adventures, this bike breaks down in the middle of nowhere, yet he has the parts, tools, and skills to fix it. So, it was an adventure for him to get to some piece of wilderness, riding the stiffly sprung 2.5-inch suspension travel beast from 60 years ago on rutted dirt roads, rocky paths, desert sands — and yet another layer of adventure — fixing the bike. Does he ride with backup? Sure, and the other guy, Ian, is on a bitsa 1970s Triumph.
Since I felt I would really enjoy observing his adventures as he experienced them on the road, I wanted him to tell you his story. So, with this issue we put some of Drew’s adventure riding writing onto our pages in Scrambler Summer. I hope you are inspired by Drew, who has a knack for selecting exciting routes, performing trailside repairs, storytelling, and being a fine photographer to boot. If you have a motorcycle story you think would be enjoyed by Motorcycle Classics readers, let us know and we’ll send you our submissions guidelines.
