The Buying a Motorcycle Story

                                                 The Buying a Motorcycle Story

                                                                      1956

                                                                 A true story

                                        Written 2010 and re-written 04/2016 unedited

                                                                Howard Yasgar

  

In 1956, I was 15 years old and I didn’t yet have a Connecticut driver’s license.

I had a phone call from my good friend Richard Andrade.

Richard  lived on Springs side Avenue in New Haven.

Richard and I were good friends, as we both always hid in the back row of  home room number 12 when we attended Sheridan junior high school.

When no one was looking, Richard and I would sneak into the library behind us, and get the National Geographic magazines that had lots of pictures of naked Africans.

When Richard called me said that I should come over to his house right away to see a motorcycle he was thinking of buying.

I rode my bicycle down to the Gulf gas station, and one of the fellows there drove me to Richards house.

Richard was there along with his two brothers, they were all standing around what looked like a motorcycle.   

Richard’s home was built right next door to a lawn bowling court that the Italians  called “Bocce Ball”.

The bocce ball court was owned by a private club, and they had a big fenced in area where about 10 teams could play Bocce at the same time.

Next to the fenced in bocce ball courts was a long gravel parking lot, it was for all the bocce ball players when they came on Saturdays and Sundays. The parking lot was about 400 feet long, and 75 feet wide.

At the very end of that long parking lot was a wooden shed about 10 foot square that contained all the bocce balls and the Bocce ball court maintenance equipment.

The bocce ball players gathered only on Saturdays and Sundays, so the rest of the week my friend Richard used the big  parking lot like it was his.

Not knowing anything about motorcycles myself, I was very curious as to what was going on.

So I walked over to see what they were looking at.

It was a motorcycle and I noticed that it had hand levers similar to the brake levers on what we called at the time an English bicycle, and I knew how to ride one of those.

I watched as my friend Richard got on the seat of the motorcycle, he did it just like he knew what he was doing.

Then with his right foot he hit the starter lever, and the motorcycle engine roared to life.

I could see Richard was hesitant like he didn’t know what to do next, so  I watched as he turned the key and shut the motorcycle off.

“The guy wants $500.00 for the motorcycle,” Richard said.

So are you going to buy it, I asked him?

“Yes, I want to, but I don't have $500.00 right now.” Richard replied.

Then Richard said “Why don't you buy it?”  

I said I don't know how to ride a motorcycle.

“It's easy,” Richard said. “Triumph is an English company so it’s just like riding an English bicycle.”

“Then he said, this rubber thing on the handle is the gas, and this lever is for the brake, and this one is the clutch, and it’s as simple as that.

You turn the key on, hit the starter lever with your foot and the bike will start.

Then you kick this other lever, it’s the transmission which you operate with your right foot, other than that, it is like riding a bicycle.”  

Still It was all a bit confusing, I wasn’t so sure which was the brake lever and which was the clutch lever, but I didn’t want to appear stupid.

Richard got off the motorcycle and I got on.

He was right, it appeared to be very easy, my left foot was on the ground and held the bike balanced.

My right foot hit the starter lever just like Richard had done. As the engine started up.

How exciting.

I released the clutch and the bike lurched forward, and everyone jumped out of the way.

In my panic to stop the motorcycle, I accidentally turned the gas  and the bike went forward even faster.

I was terrified, I knew I had to watch my balance, and I was now going pretty damn fast right down the middle of the bocce  ball parking lot.

I knew I had to remember which lever was for the brake and which one was the clutch. That’s when I looked up to see the wood shed at the end of the Bocce ball parking lot, it was getting closer.

Just then I remembered which lever was the brake and I squeezed it, but it was the wrong one, it was the clutch.

It was all over in a matter of seconds, the motorcycle at about 30 miles per hour proceeded right through the wooden wall of the shed, with me on it.

Fortunately the wall of the shed was built correctly, and the handlebars of the motorcycle hit the  wooden studs and this stopped the motorcycle pretty fast, but it didn’t stop me.

Had the two 2 x 4 wood studs not stopped the motorcycle, I would have gone completely through the shed.

I sat there on the motorcycle dazed. It took a few minutes for my adrenalin to recede back to normal, and for me to realize that I was still alive.

I looked over myself and I didn’t see any blood.

By then Richard and his brothers had reached me and they stared as I tried to extract myself from the mess of broken boards.

There were broken pieces of wood everywhere from where the front wheel had hit the wall.

I could see that the headlight on the bike was broken and its housing was all bent up. The front fender was also a bent and twisted, there were several dents in the gas tank and the front wheel and tire was bent like a pretzel.

The motorcycle was a mess, and I was scared, I knew I must be hurt  somewhere.

It turned out I was OK,  

“It looks like you just bought yourself a motorcycle.” Richard said.

And that’s how a 15 year old boy that never rode a motorcycle before became the proud owner of a bent and broken early 1950’s Triumph 650cc Bonneville motorcycle.