Bike One

Jim and Neil are consummate dirt bike cowboys - two riders with campfire narratives whose tales are occasionally and blatantly tall. But, for the most part, their outlandish stories are simply true beyond belief. I grew up imagining perilous gorges crossed by a single railroad tie and the adrenaline rush of ditching police cars across the desert of San Bernardino county. My first time really riding with them was spent on a tiny chain slapping Honda CRF 100 in the Sierras, pant legs wrapped up with duct tape and shifter falling off at every small hill. At the time, I was in a funk of blues and aimlessness. A four month trip meditating in Thailand had made nominal difference on my state of mind. I felt untethered, overwhelmed, probably more than a little bored. My Godfather, Jim, thought riding would boost my confidence and give me something I could lean on for the rest of my life. He was totally right.

















My first bike was a used 2003 Yamaha TTR 125, without electric start, in perfectly cobwebby condition. The bike had unworn original knobbies and a small scrape on the left side fender. I rode as much as possible, every weekend practically, out in Desert Center or Big Bear or "Mentone Beach". On long weekends, we trekked to the Piutes or Nevada or damn near close to the state line at least. I learned how to swap the fishy fork oil, replace bearings that were ghosting my steering, adjust my suspension, check carburetors, change fluids, tires, handlebars. I lugged my first big purchase on and off trails, through sand and cactus, fields of rocks. I dropped it. I scratched it. I had a tremendous amount of fun. The camaraderie of the trail and the peace of the dusk fires made me forget the peccadilloes of day to day life that seemed suddenly inane out there with my face in the wind. On two wheels, testing my abilities against the earth but riding only against myself, I felt (a little sheepishly) free.

Moving back to the Bay Area last year I had to let the Yamaha go. No truck, no garage, no trailer, no tools... Without a single doubt but after a lot of contemplation, I started the process of getting a new bike. Easy for my small body to use as well as ridable on the street and in the dirt, the new bike needed to have a little more power then I was accustomed to. With emissions being so strict, there's not a whole lot of options in California for a small dual-sport bike. With it's low slung seat, the 2008 Yamaha XT250 is really one of two. The other is the new (for America) Honda CRF 230l with an extra gear then the Yamaha and updated brakes. I'm choosing the latter since the shop nearest my house is a tiny local garage filled with a bunch of white haired gentlemen who know Hondas, but foremost because all the cowboys I know wear red.