When I was eight years old my father taught me to drive a motorcycle. He had learned, I’m sure, that it was better to be around for my adventures than to find out about them later.
The bike I learned to drive was his 80cc Suzuki. I couldn’t reach the gear shift with my abbreviated legs, so he sat on the back and shifted gears for me. I was an ace on the clutch, throttle and front brake (couldn’t reach the back brake any better than the gear shift, but the front brake stops a bike faster). View full article »