Welcome to 2009
Welcome to 2009, Coastal Cruizers! I don't know about you, but for me, the New Year is, or can be, a time for a certain amount of reflection; here I am in my life, but how in the world did I get here?
For purposes of his article, I'll ignore the career crossroads, the kids who are no longer kids and the continuing journey on the road to Marital Bliss and I'll focus
mostly on the motorcycle scene. I think it's fair to say that I was born to ride a bike, even though I got a relatively late start in buying my own. As far back as I can remember there was always a motorcycle in the house. Sometimes
Literally. When my elderly sister was born, my dad surpri My dad owned a number of bikes. The two I remember the best through the fog of many years are the Vincent Black
Shadow and the '38 Harley, with the suicide stick. Through the eyes of a five year old, that Shadow was a huge glistening Iron Horse. (I've since done some research and found that in comparison with modern bikes, the
Shadow wasn't nearly as physically imposing. Still, it was blinding fast and an impressive bike in its day.) My dad would prop us up on the tank and give us rides all around town, while we'd hang on to the center of the handlebars
for dear life. Not the safest way to ride, but it sure was fun and it was then and there that I got bitten by The Bug. The Motorcycle Bug.
I don't remember ever riding on the Harley, though I do remember that it was painted HD orange and it had "Gerty" painted on the front fender. It reminded me of an old WWII bomber and only need a Betty Boop or gorgeous Pin Up Girl painted on
the tank. That bike was always in fairly rough shape and it spent a lot of time in the garage. At one point, my day had actual car tires on it. It must have been a treat trying to lean that
into a curve. Even though my memories of those bikes are hazy, I know I'd give my eye teeth to have either one of them today.
Fast forward through the rest of the 60's and the 70's (some of which I actually do remember) and through the 80's (some
of which I'm still trying to forget) all the way into the 90's. My kids were mostly grown and I was living alone, working two jobs, one of wh Once I made that leap, I couldn't think about anything else but getting a bike. With a somewhat limited budget, I had to be frugal, but I figured I
could afford it, if I was careful. For the next few months, I researched bikes constantly. While I was trying to figure out how to get the most bike for the buck, I signed up for and completed the Motorcycle Safety
Foundation riders course down at BCC. Even if it weren't required for all new licenses today, I'd still recommend it. It's an excellent course and it'll make even the most experience rider, a better one.
After months of research, anticipation and drooling over every bike I passed, I finally decided on a brand new black Shadow Aero. Made in Marysville, Ohio, it could boast a "Made in the USA" label and it had an
old-style single-pin crank engine for that potato-potato sound I love. (That sound was especially impressive after I picked up a set of Bub Big Willy's pipes.) I was particularly taken with the retro look of the
wide handlebars, big tank, deep fenders and the white wall tires. Even though it looked absolutely nothing like my dad's Vincent, his old bike was on my mind on the day I brought it home.
It didn't take me long to realize it was the best money I'd ever spent and I ride it every chance I get. In the ten-plus years
I've had it, I've racked up well over 50,000 miles and it's never once left me stranded, when it wasn't my own dang fault. Now, my twenty-four year old son has that gleam in his eye. He talks a lot
about getting a bike and I think it's only a matter of time. So, I've not only passed on a stunningly good, though sometimes bizarre, sense of humor, I've also passed
along a love of motorcycles. I can think of worse things. I've got a sticker on my helmet (yes, I do wear a DOT half-helmet) that says, "My dad was a biker, I'm a biker and my kid will be a biker." And the rest, as they say is history. So, what's your story? How did you come to be bitten by The Bug? Visit my website at www.NicholasHopkins.com, hit
the e-mail link and tell me all about it. If you've got a favorite road you like to cruise or a bike you'd like to see reviewed, tell me about that too. We're all in this together and I'm always looking for good article ideas.
In the meantime, ride safe, have fun (it really is possible to do both at the same time) and again, Happy Dang New Year! 
sed my mom as she came home from the hospital with a brand new motorcycle… in the kitchen. Okay, probably
not the best way to greet mom as she toted a new baby home, but it sure made for some fun family stories.
ich was as house emcee at a short-lived comedy club in T-ville. My best buddy had just gotten a shiny new Fat Boy and couldn't get the grin off his face. I was jealous as hell. I
desperately wanted to get one of my own, but something oddly vague was holding me back. Since I was between marriages, it took me a while to come to the realization that I didn't have to convince anyone
that it was okay for me to get a motorcycle. What a concept.
