Thumper Number One We've all been there. You had a great bike (or car, or guitar, or whatever.)
You've regretted selling it ever since. You're convinced that anyone who would say you can't go home again, has never ridden a motorcycle. You want to relive the past, in spite of your wife's insistence that you're no longer sixteen. And you'd willingly pay way too much for another one!
At the age of fifteen, back when dinosaurs ruled the earth that's the mid-seventies, for you neophytes, I got a razor sharp, low mileage '74 XL 250 K1. I don't remember the exact financial arrangements; I know it involved the sale of my Hodaka Wombat and, more than likely, a partially-repaid unsecured loan from the ever-understanding First National Bank of Dear Old Dad.
It was a beautiful bike, a wintery silver-blue, with matte black and orange striping. Conical front brake. Wonderfully quiet and civilized, after my Hooker-equipped, smoke-belching two stroke. You think an Iroquois stalking deer is quiet? You could sneak up on both of them on that bike. And at 5'8", I find I don't fit many of today's excellent dual sport bikes. But that was never an issue on the XL. Scuse me while I touch the ground!
At first, I was a bit let down by the power. I was used to the staccato power bursts of the two-stroke; it took me a few miles to appreciate the smooth, wide-as-a barn curve of the XL. I don't think I realized at the time how well matched that bike was to my style riding. I've always leaned to the conservative in my riding, and that little Honda fit the bill perfectly. It would plod along over logs and boulders when I played at trials riding; it was smooth and torquey enough for two-up trail riding and hill climbs. Snow donuts in parking lots? You bet!
At little over 300 pounds, it was undeniably overweight; serious baja riders lobbed off 50 pounds or so by swapping the water pipe frame for an alloy one and selectively removing or replacing components; bone stock was just fine for me, thanks.
Reliability? Considering I had, essentially, nowhere to go nor money to get there, I put an absurd amount of trouble-free miles on that Honda.
I rode interstates, the Lincoln Highway, fire roads, to school, you name itƒincluding many, many trips to the Triumph dealer to get parts for the disabled Daytonas and Bonnies of my friends! The day my learner's permit came, I grabbed my helmet, pocket change for gas, and lit out for a crisp October all-day jaunt through the rolling hills around Johnstown, Ligonier and Greensburg. It was that kind of bike you could just jump on it and go. It never let me down.
I changed plugs and points more out of guilt than necessity. I stopped checking the valves at some point when it finally sunk in that they weren't going to need any attention for quite some time. Nothing else. Ever. Oh, wait, once I did center punch a rock playing Roger Decoster, and we had a devil of a time finding someone to patch the magnesium side cover.
It was a wonderful little street bike, too, as street and trail bikes often are. It would zip through city traffic with the usual good natured thumper grace. Ground clearance was never a problem. It got nearly 70 m.p.g., and remember, I was a teenager, not the middle aged guy I am now.
About the time the fuel crisis hit in the Spring of '79, wanting a little more power for longer road trips, I traded up to a Yoshimura-equipped Honda CB400F, a bike good enough to keep for nearly ten years. For some reason, I never considered keeping the XL and saving longer for a bigger street bike. What can I say? I was young. I was stupid.
Would I buy another? In a heartbeat. Today's dual sport bikes are, without a doubt, much better machines, but I find their styling (and prices) often vulgar and besides, damn it, I can't touch the ground! (Wouldn't mind that electric start, though!)
So, anyone got one for sale?
Jim Colbert (FSSNOC 2811)
410 Toftrees Ave. Apt. 109
State College, PA 16803
jcolb@barashgroup.com
08/21/97