My first adventures on two wheels started innocently enough. When we were like 7 and 8, I and my brother Miguel Bichara spent all of our time riding bicycles. We lived in Merville Subdivision, which at the time still had a lot of vacant lots and some nice construction sites. We'd BMX everywhere, especially in the unoccupied land under the airport approach.
Then Miguel got a copy of Cycle Magazine. At the time my big hobby had actually become racing radio remote control cars in Greenhills. It was Honda's mighty CBX that got me hooked on bikes. It's 11.4 sec. 1/4 mile, 140 mph top speed made it a king of its day and turned me into a bike fanatic!. I would start bike vs. car debates in school and preach the two-wheeled religion. Then we got a lot more motorcycle magazines. We started watching cheap Japanese biker movies, and of course followed the king of all jumping - Evel Kneivel.
Honda Philippines has a riding academy. At the time, it had a big field next to it with a crude motocross track. We went there and rented a couple of bikes one day. For some reason, this academy was pretty loose about renting out bikes, and they just asked us if we knew how to ride. Of course, we said yes, since we had been reading bike magazines and we set out onto the field.
The track was run down, but abused is not a strong enough word for the bikes. These XL100s looked like they'd been ridden to Hell and back by hippos. The rear suspensions, subframes, and seats were loose and probably held together by wire. But we didn't care, and set about with the important business of jumping stuff. One time, the engine quite while I was mid-air and when I landed we went out of control and I hit a fence. A large piece of fiberglass broke out of the cheap helmet and I can still remember the sound. We did this half a dozen times and then they closed the field to build a warehouse. For all I know they threw the bikes away.
My first ride on a big street bike was when we went to visit our cousins in Tucson, Arizona in 1979. My cousin Joey Cox had a KZ650. He took us for rides pillion, and then let us take him pillion, so he could teach us on the fly. I found the bike heavy at first with our combined weights but after Joey let me alone on his 650, it felt quite nimble and smooth. I felt comfortable with its low seat height and standard bars but hated the semi-cruiser looks which I detest up this day.
When we got home, our dad had a surprise for us. He had heard about our new passion and we had been doing well in school, so he surprised us with a 76 CB 750-4. It was still the summer after my second year of high school. Miguel and I shared it.
I remember the day our uncle, Randy Limjoco, brought his mighty CBX to our place. It was my dream bike, black on black and right here in the flesh. Miguel and I were in awe and salivating for a test ride. My uncle had the courage to let his two young nephews ride a P75,000 motorcycle (price of a mid-size sedan at that time).I guess he trusted us.
Miguel outran me to the keys so he got the first ride--Damn! I just loved how it sounded so much like a Porsche. I just couldn't wait for my turn and when I threw a leg over it, that was it! My first orgasm was on a motorcycle! The CBX was silky smooth, torquey and very responsive. I was amazed how it was able to hide it's 600 lb. weight! The Honda engineers mounted the mighty six barreled engine lower in the frame. Great engineering! It felt like a 750 more than my old and porky 750 did!
We borrowed that bike and also his 79 Suzuki GS750EN. The GS 750 was actually the better bike. It was smoother, easier to turn, and had that gear indicator. All bikes really should have a gear indicator.
Later we swapped the CB750 for a CX500. For one thing, it had mags, but more importantly, it was lighter. The CB750 was a tank. The CX had a great little engine, but the shaft drive took some getting used to. There was a delay when you shifted gears and it would jack up the rear end under power in a very strange way. Pus, it has a weird wobble over 95 mph. Looking back, maybe it needed to have the forks rebuilt and perhaps some new steering head bearings, but we didn't know anything about that stuff at the time. And we weren't too worried about it, either. We fought over it constantly, and alternated possession every Sunday.
One day I took it out for a ride with this old riding group, R&R. I remember we were fixing the headlight and it was off. But I took it out anyway, figuring I'd get home long before dark. It was a great day, the roads were clean, and on the way to Nasugbu, I started passing everyone. After I passed the guy in front on the entrance to a big sweeping left hander, the wobble came in with a vengeance. The bars started slapping out of control and I remember looking at the front wheel in disbelief and saw that the road wasn't really under it any more. Next thing I knew, I was lying in between some big rocks in the soft mud by a little river.
The group had decided that I was missing pretty quickly, since after that last turn was a long straight and there was just no way I had cleared it that fast. The guys towards the back of the group were flagged down by a farmer who had seen everything. Too bad he hadn't been a tourist with a videocamera instead. Anyway, he said the bike had cartwheeled spectacularly and directed them to where I was lying in the mud. I broke two metacarpals in my left hand and sprained both ankles pretty well. Guess I did some cartwheeling, too. I can vaguely remember flying over a big berm.
The forks were bent, the subframe was pretzeled, and lots of parts were missing. The only thing we managed to salvage was that headlight. Miguel was big time pissed off. He was always telling me to be careful, and now he had to pay the price, too. The insurance company gave us P20,000, even though at the time it replacement cost was around P60,000. We were still underage and our parents banned us from riding bikes ever again.
But we kept borrowing the CBX and the GS from uncle Randy on the sly for three years anyway. I was a bit more careful. In 1987 Miguel went back to Tucson and worked in my cousin's auto upholstery shop for awhile. He saved every thing and bought an 81 CB750f, which he brought back with him. I almost died from envy.
I sold my souped up Isuzu Gemini (that'll be the Opel Kadett in the international market) and got an 80 Kawasaki KZ1000. The one with the huge square edged tank. It came with all this Vetter touring gear, which I immediately stripped off. Got it back to pretty much stock. The only aftermarket thing was a Japanese "Beat" exhaust. We were of course still getting motorcycle magazines, so I ordered Progressive shocks and springs and a set of Michelins.
The KZ1000Mk.2 it was called. I enjoyed this bike for almost two years, even embarrassing guys on newer bikes like FZRs' GSXRs' and VFRs. Miguel and I had the oldest bikes but we were always up front, especially on long trips. I rode a couple of times to Baguio with it no problems. That bike was worry free. Sold it to a Chinese chap who died a year later of gall bladder complications. His wife wanted me to restore his bike for him and sell it but she never called me again.
A year later I sold it so I could buy a real sportbike. The infamous Jake Swann had a couple of GSXRS for sale. I bought the 85 Japanese spec GSXR750 with the tiny flat top tank and round mirrors. I got the carbs, exhaust, shock, and wheels from a GSXR1100, which put me on a fat old 4.5" rear rim. Jon (check out his Vespa page), who got the GSXR1100 knew about the swaps and got a damn good price on the 1100, which even after the swaps was a fierce widowmaker. Jake wanted someone to run with on his 89 FZR 1000, which many people still think is the EXUP.
Miguel around the same time traded up to a FZ750. Actually, it was a better bike but it was ugly. I took off all the body work on the GSXR and painted it, along with the rims. It looked beautiful and as we all know was a wild bike, with 100 horsepower and that flimsy frame. But I didn't crash it. Two years later I sold it back to Jake.