Ross and I planned to take our motorcycle trip after we graduated from high school. There was no way I could use my 125cc trail bike for a week-long trip to New England, I needed to buy a true street bike. I had worked each summer at Dad’s machine shop, so with cash in hand, I went to Garhearts Cycle Shop to pick up my new S3 400cc Kawasaki street bike. I had mixed feelings about giving up trail riding, but there was no choice with the Mount Washington trip approaching.
Galand, the owner of the motorcycle shop, handed me two sets of keys. Smiling, he said, “Here’s your new bike.” Then with a serious tone, “Be careful, this is much more powerful than what you’re used to.”
He was right about that. My 125 had a single cylinder engine with 14 horsepower. My new bike had three-cylinders and 42 horsepower and only weighed 353 pounds. This high power to weight ratio gave it better acceleration and stopping ability than many sports cars.
I put one key in my pocket, inserted the other into the ignition between the handlebars, and clicked it to the on position. I pulled in the clutch and kicked down on the kick starter. It started on the first kick. I put the bike into first gear and slowly pulled onto the road. I accelerated and shifted into second gear, then third. Before I knew it, I was going seventy miles per hour. Seventy was top speed on my 125! I loved the adrenalin rush the speed gave me. All the mixed feelings I had about giving up trail riding evaporated.
I pulled into my driveway and stopped in front of the house. I beeped the horn, the door to our house opened, and everyone came out. Randy ran up to my new bike. “This is so cool. How fast does it go?”
“I’m not sure… very fast.”
Dad walked up and circled the bike. “Very nice, Scott, but be careful.”
Mom stood in the background, smoking a cigarette with a weak smile on her face.
I walked into the house, and Randy ran upstairs to the kitchen. “Scott, look what I got.”
In the middle of the kitchen table sat a small glowing container with a single light bulb. Randy opened it up and, in the middle of some straw, lay an egg. “It’s going to hatch into a chick soon.”
“That’s cool, Randy. A little chick will be cute. I’m going downstairs to watch M*A*S*H.” I went down to the TV Room and began watching my favorite show. After about ten minutes, I heard Mom screaming, “That’s it! I can’t take it anymore!”
I ran upstairs to the living room, where my parents were yelling again. I glared at them as I opened the front door.
“This is bullshit! I’m going for a ride.”
I slammed the door behind me. This wasn’t the first time I rode into the night after one of my parent's fights. However, it was the first time I rode something as powerful as my new motorcycle. I pulled out onto the road from our driveway. Angry tears stung my eyes as I shifted from first to second gear. I shifted into third going fifty miles per hour and angrily twisted the throttle. The front-wheel came off the ground. I backed off the throttle, and the front end returned to the road with a thud. I pulled over to the side of the road with my heart pounding. When I returned home, the fireworks were over. I managed to get into my bedroom without seeing anyone and eventually fell asleep.
Randy’s egg hatched into a cute chick in no time. It remained a cute chick for what seemed like five minutes and then turned into a loud squawking rooster that would crow every morning at dawn.
I planned to go out and buy supplies for my trip. I walked outside, and there on my motorcycle sat the chicken perched on the handlebars. It looked at me and cocked its head to the side and back again. “Squawk!”
”Randy! Your goddamn chicken is on my motorcycle, and it shit all over the gas tank.”
I got a broom from the basement and while everyone watched, I took a level swing and swatted the chicken off the handlebars. It squawked as it fluttered to the ground. My parents were smiling, and Randy was aghast. “Scott, don’t hit my chicken.”
I went to Garhearts, where I purchased a red tank bag. I also bought a leather motorcycle jacket. It had sleeves that zipped so the wind would not flow up your arms. As I tried on the different jackets, I could smell the aroma of new leather. I zipped and unzipped each sleeve with great satisfaction. I had everything I needed. We were set for our trip.
But, I didn’t know it at the time, many things would happen before my trip that would change my life completely.
This is the end of act one from my upcoming book Motorcycle Stories - Finding forgiveness on the open road. It is the story of Scott, a young timid boy saving up and buying a motorcycle that becomes his lifelong love. He and his best friend Ross take motorcycle trips around the northeastern U. S. where Scott faces his fears and comes to grips with his drug addicted and abusive mother. For a complete list of excerpts, please see
For more about the book, visit my website at https://www.scottocamb.com and subscribe to my Substack to stay informed about the book’s launch this fall.
"Before I knew it, I was going 70 miles and hour." AND ... "It remained a cute chick for what seemed like five minutes" . Time is funny that way, isn't it? I will buy your book. Sharron from 🍁LEAVES
Looking forward to more ...