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Friday, January 8, 2010

The first ride on the first bike.

The day after I became a legal rider, a Ford Galaxy driven by a drunk Sergeant Major coming home from the Sergeants’ Ball turned in front of me while I was playing boy racer, head on the tank, flat out down the Watsonia hill. I hit the rear panel with quite some force. The Suzy stayed put in the side of the car while I did my Evel Knievel impression. The world went into slow motion as I flew gracefully through the air. In one great swallow dive I traveled at least two house blocks and landed on my back sliding another house block, shaken but not stirred.

Luckily I had borrowed my father’s suede safari jacket, remember it was 1972, so not a scratch. Well, the jacket was OK but I had a large gash through my thigh which contained some pearl white paint from the Galaxy. It was totally the Sergeant’s fault, so the up shot of all this was that the Suzy would get a proper front end rebuild at the sergeant’s expense.
The Suzuki Titian 500 would be better than ever, so the whole episode was well worth it.
The Suzuki 500 was bought as a crashed wreck; some poor soul had bought the farm on this one. So with the help of Wim the Racer, we began the process of getting her back on the road. Parts were a plenty in those days and cheap if they came from the wreckers... Still the wait to get her back together was excruciating.
Riding tall in the saddle, the smokey Titan turned a boy into a man. 1972 was a big year for the artist. The dream had come true. I wonder where it is now, I would love it back.

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