Ben Clauss, Motobenco

I have been acquiring and restoring vintage Japanese motorcycles and there has been one bike that has always been in the back of my mind.  After 10 years of pestering a family friend I was finally able to acquire the little Harley that started my relationship with motorcycles. 

This past August we made the journey from Chicago to Central Michigan, back to where I was raised and where the bike resides.  Fortunately I was able to make the trip with my mom, who had flown in from VT to spend a little time on the road. 

After wandering the back roads of rural MI we were headed in the right direction, the asphalt ends and the street turns to dirt and the driveway begins.  There is was, the distinctive shape, diminutive size and blue tank gave it away.   I haven’t see this bike in so long, looking a little worse for wear and showing its age, it was the same machine that sparked the passion for motorcycles years ago. 

Reunited after 35 years:

Summer of ’81, family took a trip to a friend’s farm; this is the bike that started it all. After a day of watching my parents ride around (that’s mom on the “piglet” in my bmx helmet), she also flipped a Kawasaki dirt bike, story for another time, it was finally my turn. The next morning, deal was if I could kick start it I could ride it. I spent the morning, kicking, choke on, kicked some more she finally turned over.

After some instruction from the owner JW, as I rode, he provided guidance from the pillion, when to shift, when to brake and where to look.  This continued through the day until he was satisfied I could manage on my own and promptly exited the rear.  He had forgotten about the turn signals on the rear, which caught his leg and flipped him on the ground.  I glanced back to make sure he was ok, but I was free, big eyes now focused forward.  Roaming the cow pasture, shifting gears, enjoying the experience and finally on my own. 

As the day ended I found myself on the far end of the pasture, miles from the farm in unfamiliar territory, soggy ground with limited traction.  I remember the engine revs increasing as the rear wheel struggled for traction and the whole bike became squirrely.  I was on my own at this point not wanting to drop the bike and have to walk back in the fading light. Something, call it natural instinct, sheer determination or just a will to survive kicked in, my focus increased and I willed my way through that situation. I made it back; bike covered in mud, my confidence elevated knowing that someday the skills I learned today would help me in a similar situation.

Fast forward 24 years, racing at Daytona, I ran wide at the dog leg, ended up on the grass heading towards turn 4 and the racers in front of me on the track, front brake, no traction, rear brake no, traction, down shift, asphalt closing fast, gradually slowing down, finally the front wheel touched the pavement, full front brakes, release and turn, disaster avoided.  (Flashback to that day on the farm.)