Like most red-blooded American boys, I grew up thinking and dreaming of anything that had wheels. At a very young age I would watch all the older kids in the neighborhood as they learned to ride a bicycle. I would eagerly run behind them cheering them on as they wobbled down the street. I was still too young for a bike of my own so I got my wheel fix by collecting Hot Wheels cars. My brother and I would collect money taking pop bottles back to the stores for change. We would then use that change to buy Hot Wheels cars. For Christmas we had asked Santa for race track and we would create elaborate tracks and have all the neighborhood kids come over for race day. It was a badge of honor if you had the fastest Hot Wheels car on the block.
While small diecast cars would help pass the time, what I really wanted was a set of wheels of my own. As soon as I could convince my parents I was old enough, they finally relented and got me a bicycle. I would practice every day until I could master riding by myself. While the bike did include training wheels, there was no quicker way to be shamed by the other neighbor kids than to be seen needing training wheels. I quickly graduated to a full size bike that I could ride on my own.
There is nothing better than to feel the wind in your hair and the sounds of baseball cards hitting the spokes that we used to simulate the sounds of riding a motorcycle. Riding bikes wasn't just a form of transportation, it provided us with the first real independence in our lives. Before that you would need to catch a ride with someone but with a bike, you set the rules of where you could go and when you got there. At least I thought it gave us that freedom. It wasn't long before my parents set down the rules that they still needed to be involved in deciding where and when I could go somewhere and if it was even safe to ride a bike to where I thought I wanted to go.
Shortly after I turned 12 years old, I talked my dad into helping me get an off-road motorcycle so that we could ride together. Growing up I had watched dad ride his bike and that was all I could think about. Dad agreed and soon he and I were riding in the mountains of southeastern Idaho. My younger brother Rod also got a small motorcycle and we would ride all weekend. These were some of my fondest memories growing up.
One of the huge perks for growing up in Idaho was that the state allowed you to get your learner's permit to drive a car at 14 years old. This was necessary because many of the teenage kids would need to be available to drive the trucks during potato harvest. Although we were not farmers, I wasn't about to let this opportunity pass me by so I got my parents approval to take driver's education just a couple of months after my 14th birthday.
Suddenly I had a new appreciation of independence only to be reminded by my parents that they still needed to be consulted before I decided to take a road trip to anywhere beyond going to the grocery store. It's funny, after I started driving my mind immediately went back to when I was young. All those Hot Wheels cars I had now raced through my mind. Suddenly I started dreaming of what it would be like to have a car like one of those I had as a kid.
In this section you will find stories of the bikes, motorcycles, and cars I have had or want to have.
 |
 |
 |
| Cars | Motorcycles | Mountain Bikes |
If you're a car or bike fan like me and want to share some of your favorite vehicles, rides, or accessories please feel free to reach out and contact me and I’m always happy to talk to someone with similar interests or in some cases obsessions.
Back
