This is just a brief story about my quest to learn how to ride a motorcycle.

Finally, it was happening. I could feel the warm summer wind beating against my chest as I cruised down the road on my motorcycle. This was it. I finally made it to the last step of something I had wanted since I was kid. I was going to get my motorcycle license. This was going to be the beginning of the end of my motorcycle dreams.
This quest to ride began exactly twenty-two days ago. Well, the desire to ride a bike began far earlier. To this day, I blame two things for this two wheeled craving. One is Evel Knievel. As a child, I remember watching his exploits on TV and thinking to myself, WOW. As I watched him make that bike fly over cars, trucks and buses, I knew one day I had to learn to ride a bike. Also, I have to put some blame on the TV series CHIPS. I know it sounds ridiculous. Who could possibly be influenced by a TV show filled with mediocre story lines and bad 70’s acting? Well, it wasn’t the story lines or the characters that influenced me. It was those great motorcycle scenes. From that moment on my nighttime dreams were filled with scenes of me riding a motorcycle.
My desire to ride was further fueled by my surroundings. As I grew older, I saw friends and cousins enjoying their knobby wheeled beasts. I however did not have one. I always wanted one. I wanted to ride with my friends and my cousins but I couldn’t. I even remember as a kid my mom would say to me, “I’ll ask your father. I’ll get him to say, ‘yes.’” However, my very sneaky mother recently admitted to me that she never relayed this request to my father because she was too afraid I would get hurt. So as a child, I never got to learn how to ride a motorcycle. The dreams still continued. Please understand that when I say dreams I mean that quite literally. Those dreams at times even rivaled those wonderful teenage dreams involving me and some lucky young lady. Apparently, riding a motorcycle wasn’t the only thing I desired.
Life moved on though. I worked hard in school and played some sports. Then after high school I went to college. The dreams continued but I was too busy to act on them. Then a ray of hope shined down upon me and my dreams. I became aware of the fact that my college offered a motorcycle training course. I was extremely excited. But alas, my schedule did not allow such indulgent pursuits. Once again my motorcycle dreams remained just that, dreams.
After college, I entered the workforce for several uninspiring years. Then I got married and went back to school to earn my Masters Degree. With a new marriage beginning and more college loans building, there were no motorcycles in my future. The dreams though continued. Now though, my dreams were getting stronger. My father in law was an avid motorcyclist who spent a lot of time on the weekends riding in charity bike runs or just spending hours upon hours of time traversing the windy county roads of southern New Jersey. I was filled with jealousy.
After my Masters program, I was immediately hired by a local school district. I was to start teaching in September. Finally, my education was settled, I was on the verge of a new career, and it was time to pursue my motorcycle dreams.
I went to my wife’s father and let him know that I was ready to learn. I asked for his help in finding a bike and we began looking in the back rooms of motorcycle dealerships. I say the back room because as a novice you don’t want a front room bike. The front room bikes are usually brand new and shiny. If they’re used and are in the front room then they are completely loaded with chrome trim, custom parts and exquisite paint jobs. These are not novice bikes.
As a novice you want a bike that’s scratched, dinged and has been used well beyond its years. Then I found such a bike. It was a 1985 Kawasaki EN450. It was all black with a huge dent in the side of the gas tank, a ripped hand grip and more rust than chrome. It was perfect though. I didn’t care what it looked like. This was the bike for me. This was to be my learning bike. With great enthusiasm my father in law and I loaded the bike up into the back of his pick-up truck. All the way home I kept staring into the bed of the truck looking at my new bike. It didn’t matter that it was dented dinged or scratched. I now owned a motorcycle.
The very next day I went down to the local DMV office so I could take my written test for my motorcycle license. It was the only time I was truly happy about standing in the back of a long line because I used that time to study for the test. After about a thirty minute wait, I signed up for the test and was led to a computer terminal.
I went through the test quite quickly. It turned out I passed the test, barely. If I would have gotten two more wrong, I would have failed. I was filled with excitement. My motorcycle dreams were coming true . After I received the glorious results of my written test, I proceeded to the counter so I could schedule my appointment for the riding test.
“What’s the earliest I can take the test?” I asked.
“Well, you have to have your permit for at least twenty-one days before you can take the riding test,” the man responded.
“Then schedule my test for twenty one days from this date,” I requested.
I left the DMV happy and excited. But then reality hit. I didn’t know how to ride this wonderful two wheeled machine I had just purchased the day before. I didn’t even know how to work a clutch. Up to this point in my life all of my cars had an automatic transmission. Now I had only twenty-one days to learn the delicate symbiotic art of motorcycle riding.
The next several weeks gradually progressed from me driving straight lines and stopping in a parking lot, to driving from southern New Jersey to Ocean City Maryland and back in one day. During those twenty-one days my father in law exposed me to almost every kind of driving condition he could think of. I drove at night, during the day in the rain on back roads and on highways. I learned motorcycle riding at 55, sometimes 85, MPH. By the end of the twenty-one days, I felt confident I could pass.
So there I was riding the back roads leading to the test station. The summer wind surrounded me and I all could hear was the whistling of the wind blowing up and over my helmet. In front of me, I could see the taillights of my father in laws bike. Behind me, I didn’t even care what was behind me anymore. I just knew I had years of motorcycle riding laid out in front of me.
When I finally did arrive at the testing center, I watched the people before me off-load little no-clutch scooters to ensure they would pass. Not me, I was going to take my test on a real bike. I wasn’t afraid of this test.
I was extremely nervous but all went well. I mean, I did knock over some cones during the cone weave portion of the test. As a matter of fact I dragged one halfway around the course. Then I did bobble the u-turn test. But, I passed and the license was mine. All the way home all I could think about was all the fun and adventure that would now be mine. I was proud of myself too. In twenty-one days I learned how to ride a motorcycle. I couldn’t believe.
After an extremely euphoric ride home, I pulled into the driveway beaming with pride and happiness. My wife came out to greet me and I told her, “I passed.” She was happy and asked me to come in so we could enjoy dinner. She promised she would go riding with me later.
So, as a fully licensed motorcyclist, I swung my leg over the bike and began to walk away. Then I heard the one sound that every bike guy fears – CRASH. It seems that my blind pride prevented me from putting the kickstand down. I cursed, then laughed and quickly picked up my bike hoping the neighbors wouldn’t see.
All in all, it was a good day. And that night, I stopped dreaming about motorcycles, because that day I began living the dream.